Seduced by Crimson (20 page)

"Take 'em inside," the sentry growled. "Keeli will know what to do."

Patrick was roughly hauled to his feet. Xiao Fei was jerked forward too, and she winced at the pull on her arm. Fortunately there wasn't any bleeding below or above her skin. For her, unattended bruises could be just as deadly. So she hurried forward to ease the pressure on her arm and quickly stepped into Alpha Keeli's official rooms.

"Tie 'em up," her captor snapped.

"What?" Xiao Fei jerked sideways, but he didn't release her. "I'm the one who—"

"Shut up!" he growled. Clearly the man had lost patience. "I don't know who's what here. My job is to keep everything safe and then get Keeli."

"But I'm no threat to you! I'm…" Her words faded away as his growl became lower, more threatening. It would do no good to argue.

He sat her in a hardwood chair. Someone brought rope, and all too soon she was bound tight—hands behind her back, legs strapped down. After he stood, she surreptitiously tested the knots. She was held fast. Once glance to the right and she saw Patrick was in a similar state.

"His bag," Xiao Fei said. "Get it away from him. And that thing around his neck."

Patrick's head snapped up, and she fully saw his battered face. Damn, he looked awful. Blood seeped down his chin. The cut would need stitches. One eye was swollen shut, and yet she still saw the beauty underneath. Good-looking men shouldn't be demons—it just wasn't fair to the female gender.

Patrick's bag was pulled from his shoulder and dumped on a nearby table. The amulet was ripped from his neck and dropped beside it. The head werewolf made to inspect them both, but Xiao Fei rushed to stop him.

"Don't touch the stone. It's deadly!" She'd watched a monk become engulfed in flame when he touched the amulet in Cambodia.

The wolf dropped both the bag and the amulet, and scrambled backward. He looked nervously at the other two werewolves. One looked much too happy—from restraining Patrick. In fact, he had remained in half-changed form and had his claws at the ready. The other wolf had shifted back to human form, and he just looked jumpy. Really, really jumpy.

Apparently, the leader noticed it too. "Outside," he ordered. "Guard the door."

Both wolves obeyed, but sullenly. Xiao Fei didn't breathe until they'd left. Then she turned back to the sentry-leader. Perhaps he was in a more reasonable frame of mind. "Thank you " she began. "I—"

"Save it for Keeli," he snapped. Spinning on his heel he exited, shutting the door behind him with a ponderous thud. Which left Xiao Fei staring at Patrick's battered profile. She gulped and decided to look elsewhere.

She took in what she could of Alpha Keeli's rooms. They were large, comfortable, and clearly where she met officially with… whomever the leader of the Crimson City werewolves would officially meet. Xiao Fei saw a large table on one side, and a large desk on the other. In between was a couch, chairs, and papers and books everywhere. If nothing else, Keeli obviously was a working werewolf, literate and half-buried under the details of governing her people. The open demon gate probably hadn't helped any.

"Why, Xiao Fei? Why would you lie like that?"

She'd known Patrick would talk to her, try to turn her to his side. But he didn't sound sneaky right then, not even seductive or threatening. He sounded hurt and confused.

She looked at him and immediately regretted it. That had been her one saving grace in Cambodia: she could look into the demons' eyes and read burning hatred there. They weren't really very good at hiding it. Any sympathy she might have had for them had disappeared right then and there. But Patrick's green eyes held honesty and pain. She looked away.

"You owe me an explanation, Xiao Fei. Why would you—"

"You're a demon!" she practically bellowed. "I don't owe you anything!"

"I'm not a goddamned demon! Geez, what the hell would make you think I am?"

She straightened her spine—at least as much as she could, given her restraints. Then she mentally strengthened her resolve and turned to look evil in the eye. "You
are
a demon," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. "There's no use denying it. I know what that amulet is, and I know who can wield it." When he frowned at her, she almost rolled her eyes. "Demons, you idiot. Only demons can wield it."

"So, since I have this amulet, I'm a demon?"

She nodded. "Since you wield that amulet."

At his confused frown, she explained. "You haven't ever seen what happens to a human who touches its stone, have you?"

"I am human," he protested.

She shook her head, her heart breaking. "You can't be."

He sighed and tossed aside the ropes on his hands. As she gaped at him, he flexed his fingers and rolled his wrists. Then he leaned down and began work on the bonds at his ankles.

"How'd you do that?" she gasped.

His words were spoken toward his feet as he worked. "How
can't
you? They weren't very good knots."

She jerked on her bonds. Yes, they were good knots—at least, good enough to hold her. And he was seconds away from releasing his legs. Then he'd be free. And she'd still be strung up like a rotisserie chicken.
Oh, hell
. She'd just revealed that she knew he was a demon. She knew about the amulet. Which meant she was seconds away from being killed.

She took a breath to scream. Too late. He was across the floor with his hand pressing hard into her throat.

"Don't. I'm not going to hurt you unless you force me. I'm not a demon. I'm not here to hurt you. I want to close the gate. End of story. Don't scream." He took a breath. "Please."

It was that last word that got her. In truth, he looked very fierce and very scary with his battered face right up in hers, but that one word—
please
—cut at her. It sounded so vulnerable. So… innocent.

She shouldn't believe him. She
didn't
believe him.

But she couldn't scream with his hand on her throat. She couldn't even breathe.

"Tell me you agree, Xiao Fei. Tell me you won't scream. Promise."

She nodded. What else could she do? She was starting to see stars instead of his intense green eyes.

He released his hand a fraction. She drew a shaky, painful breath.

"You're right," he said, his hand still on her throat. But he wasn't hurting her, just holding it there in case. "The amulet is of demonic origin."

She closed her eyes. She didn't want to look into the face of her enemy.

"And there was a… a ceremony. To make it easier to wield." His voice shook slightly, and her eyes popped open. Something about that ceremony had obviously been difficult. "But I'm not a demon. We druids have kept this amulet for hundreds of generations to guard against just this type of event." He took a deep breath. "The amulet opens gates, Xiao Fei. It can also be used to close them."

She didn't answer. Everything was happening so fast. She didn't know what to believe.

"What about your blood?" he asked. She frowned and didn't answer, so he continued, "The book I read on you says something about your blood burning demons." He abruptly stood and crossed to his satchel. He pulled out the Cambodian journal and rapidly flipped through the pages.

"The Phoenix's blood is of Earth. Purified by prayer, strengthened by devotion, her blood will burn the unholy. It will close the doorway to hell and destroy all of the unclean who poison the earth.'" He looked up from the book. "Is that true?"

She bit her lip and looked away.

"Xiao Fei—"

"I don't know. I…" She swallowed. "I think it is. When… Before…" Tears blurred her vision. She didn't want to think, didn't want to remember that time.

"When you closed the other gate," he prompted. "Did your blood burn the demons? Like acid?"

She shook her head. "Not mine. I… Not mine." She'd been struck and fell down. Then she'd crawled underneath something and hidden. She'd hidden while the rest of her sisters had fought and died.

Patrick's voice softened even as he continued to press her. "But others did. You saw your sisters' blood—"

"Yes. It burned the demons."

He nodded and tucked the monk's journal away. Then, while she struggled to overcome the nausea, he knelt beside her. "How old were you? When you closed—"

"Eight. I was eight." She spoke over him, not wanting to think about that time again.

"Very young. Too young to understand everything."

"I knew enough."

He nodded. "I'm sure you did. But another gate's opened here in this place where you felt safe. It must be really hard for you."

She didn't answer. Sure, it sucked. But she was handling it.

"I'm sure that other experience was highly traumatic. You were eight. Everyone was dying. Demons were attacking—"

"Stop!" She jerked at her bonds and succeeded only in wrenching her wrists. "I know what happened. I don't need your psychoanalysis." He paused, his expression both startled and sympathetic. She preferred anger.

"Just do it, okay?" she suddenly snapped. "Kill me and be done with it."

He frowned, but it was his sigh that startled her. His breath was warm where it caressed her cheek. "I told you. I'm not going to hurt you." Then he pulled a switchblade out of his bag. The sharp blade extended with a snick that made her gasp. "I'm just trying to make you understand," he said clearly. "You're confused. Traumatized by the other event. In pain from the current gate. Things have got to be muddled in your head. I'm just trying to make things clear."

"They're very clear," she whispered. Nothing confusing about the blade; he was about to slit her throat.

"Your blood burns demons." He leaned down and pressed the blade to her forearm—right at a tattooed phoenix tear, right where the wolf had bitten her, right where the skin was thin because she had just closed the wound. As always, the blood flowed warm and steady.

He paused. "No chance of lycanthropy, is there?"

She glared at him. "You're about to kill me, and I'm supposed to worry about infecting you with lycanthropy?"

He smiled. "You get really snappy when you're scared, you know that? It's kinda cute."

She glared at him, and he sobered.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm proving that I'm not a demon."

She felt the cool edge of his blade—the blunt side now—against her wrist. The sharp side cut the rope. Then, before she could react, he twisted her arm back to him. Her blood trailed down her palm in a thin stream. He pressed his mouth to her wound.

From Patrick Lewis's journal.

September 25, 1989

The funeral was today. It was awful. Everybody cried, except for those who just stared. Mom keeps asking me how I feel. Dad keeps asking what happened. I can't tell him. I can't say that I just stood there. Tommy was my friend. I knew he'd been through the change. He told me, and besides I could feel it. That's why we had the party so early before my birthday. Before the full moon. And now he's dead. Jason's a hero, and Lisa…

September 26,1989

I put away her pictures. I can't look at them anymore. Mom didn't say anything, but she noticed. Dad, too. It makes him feel better when he knows I'm writing in this journal. He thinks I'm getting my feelings out. Maybe I am. Maybe I just don't know what to do with myself.

September 27, 1989

I'm sick. I threw up all day. Mom says it's the flu but I know it's not.

Jason stopped by. He offered to heal me, but I told him to fuck off. I'm not sick. And if I were, I could damn well heal myself.

September 28, 1989

Why wouldn't she scream? I keep asking myself that. Why didn't Lisa scream? We all saw Tommy change. We all saw him stand there fighting the wolf. Then he leaped up and knocked her down.

She could have thrown him off, kicked or something. But she just lay there like she couldn't move. Like she was frozen. Why didn't she scream ?

Why didn't I stop him ?

Why didn't I stop Jason ?

Where the hell did he get that shovel, and why the hell didn't I stop him when he lifted it up in the air? He was working the energy. I felt it. It was so strong… But I can't believe Jason would activate the wolf in Tommy. Not for kicks and certainly not to kill Lisa. It's not possible. It's not, and I don't believe it.

The truth is that it's my fault. I was too slow. I work energy, too. I could have shifted Tommy back to human. I could have; I know it. Why didn't I? I just stood there like an idiot. I thought Tommy would get ahold of himself. I thought…

It's all my fault.