Lost Girl: Hidden Book One (23 page)

We sped to the neighborhood Bash and Dahael directed me to, radio cranked up, Brennan in the passenger seat nodding along to the beat, six imps sitting in the back seat like small, terrifying children. Even the imps seemed to have some fight in them today. I had kept them on a short leash since they’d pledged themselves to me. No more rampaging, not more causing trouble, no more instigating fights between the Normals. I met Bashiok’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “Do you want in on this?” I asked him, shouting above the stereo.

“It would be an honor, Mistress,” he said, baring his sharp little teeth in a terrifying grin. The other imps nodded in agreement. I could feel excitement from them. The crazy little bastards were actually looking forward to fighting demons.

They weren’t the only ones.

I didn’t make a secret of our presence when we pulled up to the brick ranch. Radio blaring, tires squealing as I braked at the curb. I jammed the car into park, and Brennan and the imps followed me as I stalked toward the house.

And when the Puppeteer walked out onto the front porch, I couldn’t stop myself from giving her what I hoped was a disturbing, creepy smile. Yeah. This was going to make me feel a whole lot better.

At least, that was what I thought, until I heard Brennan groaning behind me, and the Puppeteer’s bubbly, childlike laugh.

I turned to glance at Brennan to see him holding his head in his hands. Then I felt the Puppeteer’s presence, trying to poke her way into my mind.

I’d been preparing for this, of course. All of that work with Nain, all of the migraines, all of the practice, even as I drifted off to sleep at night– all of it had been because I never wanted to feel her slimy presence in my mind again.

And it was worth it. It took no effort to keep her out. I turned back to her as I felt annoyance start rolling off of her.

“My, we’ve gotten stronger, haven’t we?” she finally said in her annoying, saccharine voice. I just glared at her. Brennan groaned again behind me.

“Unfortunately for you, I can’t say the same for him.” She smiled at me, and I lunged for her.

“Grab her,” the Puppeteer barked, and Brennan grabbed my arms from behind, holding me in a vise-like grip as I tried to lunge for her again. “Just hold her, puppet,” the Puppeteer said as if she was speaking to a dog; smiling again. I struggled against Brennan’s grip, but it was pointless.

The Puppeteer closed her eyes. “Oh, this is too easy. I wonder if you have any idea how tumultuous his thoughts are regarding you.” She opened her eyes, winked at me, closed them again. “Desire. He wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anything. The fantasies he has about you! He’s pretty sure he loves you. Silly boy,” she said, giggling. “Falling in love with a demon is a terrible idea.”

I struggled against Brennan again. Useless. I tried to feel for anyone else around. No supernatural presences, other than the three of us and the imps, who had flanked me, waiting for my command.

“But, there’s so much more. Anger. He feels betrayed by you. He wonders why he’s not good enough for you. You make him feel worthless, and this is something a shapeshifter can’t abide. They are a proud race, shifters. And you have turned him away, over and over again. Part of him hates you.”

I went still, her words doing more damage to me than I wanted to let on. Brennan was silent behind me, his hands on my arms. I could feel my biceps bruising under his grip.

“Isn’t that right, puppet?” The Puppeteer said to Brennan.

“Yes, my Lady,” he said, his voice a monotone.

“I can use that. All of it,” the Puppeteer murmured, looking at me again in that creepy way she had. “I nearly ran, when I saw your car. I can admit that. Astaroth had just left me. We don’t get much alone time anymore, thanks to you.” She pouted, for just a moment. “I know you’re stronger than I am in some ways, dear. But I thought you’d be smarter. I thought you’d come alone, or that you’d bring your pet demon with you. But you brought me a gift instead.” And she giggled again, and my stomach turned.

“Puppet, see that she is disabled. I want her weak, unconscious. I owe Astaroth an anniversary gift. She’ll do nicely.”

And that was when Brennan’s hands went from my arms to my throat, and he started choking me from behind, strong fingers digging into my windpipe.

I thrashed my head back, heard a wet sound as his nose broke. His grip loosened, and I leapt away.

“Sorry, Bren,” I said to the man I hoped was still inside there somewhere.

He lunged for me again, and I did all I could to evade. I dodged, I ducked, I ran. I didn’t want to get too far away from the Puppeteer. I had to be close to her if I wanted to kill her.

And I did. Oh, I did. I would.

“Do whatever it takes,” the Puppeteer said. “I know this much about the Angel,” she said, with a note of disdain in her voice, “she won’t hurt one of the few people who have ever cared about her. Weakness. Keep her alive. Barely.” And with that, she sat down on one of the white plastic chairs on the porch, crossed her legs, and watched us with a look on her face that reminded me of a child at the circus.

God, I hated her.

Brennan kept lunging for me. He shifted into a cat. His animal forms were always harder to fight. They were stronger, faster, than his human form. And they had sharp teeth and claws. I twisted away, just missing being raked across the stomach by his claws.

“Brennan, remember me,” I murmured. I knew trying to mess around in his mind was pointless. I’d already seen what happened when I tried to cut the connection to the Puppeteer. Her puppets ended up very much dead.

“Remember,” I said again. I may as well have been talking to a statue. He slashed at me again, catching my thigh. I grunted as I felt claws slice through muscle.

“Imps!” I pointed at the Puppeteer, and my six imps charged.

“Oh, please,” she said. “Sleep!” she ordered my imps, and they fell to the ground, snoring.

“Don’t order my imps around, you bitch,” I growled, evading another swipe from Brennan’s claws. I started focusing on the Puppeteer. Well, as much as I could while trying to avoid being sliced to ribbons by Brennan. I was losing blood quickly. If I was going to do this, it had to be now, when I still had most of my power available to me. Before he damaged my body much more.

I evaded snapping jaws aimed for my throat, kicked panther-Brennan across the front yard.

She was right. I wouldn’t hurt Brennan more than I absolutely had to.

The only thing I could do was focus on her, ending her.

I started poking at her mind. She felt me immediately, and I felt panic from her. “Faster, you idiot!” she yelled at Brennan.

I continued hammering at her mind, trying to break past her defenses. Her shield was strong. Stronger than Nain’s, even. Where my shield was a steel box, hers was a sphere; smooth, metallic. No weak points.

I kept working at her.

This takes focus, which is a problem when you’re supposed to be fighting for your life. I missed it when Brennan lunged for me again, and his claws sliced my abdomen open.

The Puppeteer cheered. Smug bitch.

I could feel my power lessening as I required more energy for healing myself.

I started to shiver. Too much blood loss.

I’d die before I’d let her take me to Astaroth. No way.

I kept working at her mind. This was pointless. She laughed at me. Her confidence soared in the face of my weakening power.

“Poor baby,” she cooed. “I can’t imagine why anyone wants you this much. You’re really not anything special.”

“Your boyfriend wants me pretty bad,” I said, darting away from Brennan again. I felt a spike of annoyance from her.

“Oh, please. He doesn’t want you. He’s promised you to someone else. He was perfectly happy avoiding that demon and his team. He only came out of hiding because he had to.”

This wasn’t working. The Puppeteer was crazy. She was vile. But she was a stronger telepath than I was. I was barely standing. Fighting Brennan, healing from the injuries he was giving me, was taking everything I had.

I did the only thing I knew she was really afraid of. I ran toward her.

She jumped up out of her chair, tripped over the sleeping imps as she tried to run off of the porch, away from me.

“Get her!” she shrieked as I advanced on her.

Brennan had shifted back into his human form again, ran for me as I reached the Puppeteer. I punched her in the face, hard. She crumpled into a whimpering ball on the porch.

That was for me, and it felt good.

I drew my fist back again. I grabbed the front of her shirt and got ready to punch again.

And that was when Brennan kicked my leg, from the side.

I heard a crack, and warm blood dripped down my leg as the pain became unbearable. I was dizzy with it. I glanced down to see my femur poking out of the side of my jeans, jagged edge cutting right through the denim.

I fell down, still gripping the front of the Puppeteer’s shirt. She laughed.

If I did nothing else in this life, I was going to destroy her. With every ounce of power I had left, I grabbed her head.

And twisted, hard. Fast. I put every ounce of hatred and anger I was feeling into it.

I heard a satisfying snap, felt her presence fade. I rolled off of her, and the movement jostled my broken leg. The pain was too much, and my world faded to black.

I don’t think I was out very long. I felt gentle hands washing blood away from my stomach, arms. I opened my eyes to see Dahael handing Bashiok one bloody washcloth as he handed her a clean one. Teamwork.

Blood was still flowing from my stomach and leg. An imp was holding a towel over the rip in my abdomen, trying to staunch the bleeding. I glanced around. It was still early evening, and the cicadas buzzed in the trees. I looked to my left to see the Puppeteer’s body. I tried to sit up, remembering.

Two of the other imps pushed me back down, gently. “Must heal, Mistress,” one of them said apologetically.

“Brennan,” I said, barely able to form the word. My mouth was dry, and my throat was swollen. Everything hurt.

“Alive. Unconscious,” Dahael said softly. “Be still.”

I did. My leg was not healing yet. The gashes on my stomach were closing. My throat was less painful. Cuts across my arms and hips were already gone. But the bone sticking out of my thigh was going to be a problem.

I heard a groan, and glanced toward where Brennan was. He sat up, slowly, rubbing his head. I was so relieved I could have cried. Later.

He looked around and his gaze landed on me, surrounded by my imps. He jumped up, ran toward me. He reached out to take my hand.

I flinched away from him, before I even realized what I was doing.

I felt shame flood from him. And then he looked over my body, saw my thigh.

He turned away from me, and I heard him vomiting over the side of the porch. Anger, shame, helplessness flooded from him. Disgust.

He retched a few more times. Bashiok handed him a towel, and he wiped at his face with it. He stayed that way, facing away from me.

“Brennan. I need your help,” I said, ignoring the fear that rose up at even the idea of having him touch me again.

He turned to me then. His eyes were haunted, his face gaunt. “What can I do?”

“If we don’t get this leg straightened up, it’s never going to be right again,” I said, and I felt fear grip him. “I need you to help me. I can’t do it alone.”

“The imps–”

“Are not strong enough. I need you to do this for me.”

“Nain…” he said.

“He won’t get here soon enough. Oh, fuck it. I’ll do it myself.” I waved him off, started trying to pull at my knee to give myself room to maneuver the bone back toward where it was supposed to be. Pain exploded, and I was on the verge of puking.

“Stop it. Stop. I’ll help,” he said. He came to me. “Tell me what to do.”

“Pull, at the knee. Toward you. Dahael, push the bone back in when there’s room,” I said, grabbing my thigh just above where it was broken.

“On three.”

“Shit,” Brennan groaned.

“One. Two. Three,” I said, and we all pulled and pushed at the same time.

I screamed as Brennan tugged on my leg. I felt Dahael shove the sharp, broken bone back into place, felt every movement in agonizing detail as she lined it back up.

“Release,” she said once the bone was back in place.

Brennan and I both let go of our respective parts of my leg. He staggered away and puked again. I laid back on the porch and just tried to stay conscious. I was sweating, and shivering, and hyperventilating…something I’d never done in my life.

Dahael came back to me, put a cool washcloth on my forehead. “Deep breaths, Mistress,” she said softly, her voice warm. “Calm. Calm.” I tried to force my breathing to slow, felt even weaker as tears came to my eyes, and I couldn’t fight them back.

“Calm, Mistress. Victorious. So strong, Mistress,” Bashiok said, kneeling next to Dahael and patting my shoulder with his knobby little hand.

I tried. I tried not to think. I focused on my body, healing itself. At the fire in my thigh as bone, muscle, skin fused itself back together again.

Dahael lifted the towel off of my stomach. “Healed,” she said, nodding in approval.

“I’m going to call Nain,” Brennan said. “He should come and take you home.”

“No,” I said. He stopped reaching for his phone, looked at me. “I can’t deal with his reaction right now. You know how he is.”

I felt shame, helplessness flow from him. “I need to get out of here, Molly. I am so sorry. I nearly killed you, and you’re afraid of me now and I can’t even–”

“Brennan. That was the Puppeteer,” I said softly. No point in denying that I was afraid of him. I’d never felt the full impact of Brennan’s strength. I’d always felt safe around him, knowing he’d protect me to the death if he had to. I wanted that back. But all I could see right then was the look of sheer hatred he’d had on his face when he advanced on me, ready to kill.

“I could see and hear everything,” he said, so softly I barely heard it. “She was in control, but I watched, like I was watching a TV show, helpless to change what was going on. I heard everything she said. I felt my claws slice through your skin. I listened to you beg me, listened to you scream. I heard her tell you every thought I’ve had about you. She used me as her own personal thug. I don’t even want to be around me now. I can only imagine what you feel.”