Seduced by Crimson (33 page)

He was draining the life out of living souls for the express purpose of increasing his own power. Whether those creatures be human, demon, or even the lowest earthworm, to drain that energy was wrong, completely and utterly wrong.

So I grabbed the amulet. It was the source. It was also Jason's soul, and I think I just wanted to hold it or contain it somehow. I don't know. I grabbed the amulet and felt for the first time the agony that slices through the wielder of that cursed thing. Pain burned through my arm, and yet it was more than pain; it was power
—
demon power
—
that could be twisted and used. Held, controlled, and wielded like a sword.

If it were not for Jason, I think I would have flung the thing away or perhaps fled in fear. The pain burns through the body like dragon fire. It can consume you.

Mr. Boden joined us then. He did not grab hold of the amulet; it was trapped between Jason and me. But he could speak to his son. He said the things that I could not. He reasoned, he challenged, and then he begged.

Jason said nothing. He and I were still struggling with the amulet, both trying to shape the power. And then he began to win. I felt the shift of energy. He had mastered its use, and I was merely a poor imitator. He could have shaped the energy to throw me off, to cast me away from himself and the amulet, but he didn't. I felt the moment he began to draw my power into the jewel, just as he had sucked the life out of the demons. I was fading. My life was draining into the jewel.

I fought back. I believe that Mr. Boden joined in my struggles, but Jason was the master and had lost all reason.

Then, Jason spoke. He thanked me for the gift of my power. My hand and arm were numb, my blood felt drained away, and even my breath rattled in my chest, but he didn't end it. I think, perhaps, he wanted someone to admire what he had accomplished. He would finally have enough energy, he said, to do what he'd always wanted. My recycled soul would protect him when he opened a massive gate into Orcus.

Then he did it. While I gripped the amulet, he twisted the energy to open a gate. It cut through space and time and reality. Once again, I felt that
other
energy
—
the demon power that was that planet: Orcus
.

I didn't understand at first. Why pick up more demons when he had not finished me? But it wasn't demon lives he wanted. It wasn't even my poor existence. He wanted the soul of the planet, of the dimension
—
of Orcus
.

He began to draw it in. My strength had allowed him to do this last hideous thing. He ripped a hole in the Earth and began to draw the life out of another planet.

There was nothing I could do. My body was completely numb, my mind equally paralyzed, unable to cope with the shifting currents of power. Then his lather struck. It was a chair, I think, made of heavy wood surrounded by plush leather. He struck his own son with it, and in that moment, Jason faltered. Only a short break in concentration, but it was enough for me to wrench back some control.

I could not end the flow; Jason was too strong. But I could twist it, could change it. So I did. I rode the flow of power straight into the amulet, and from there continued the river into Jason. I had not realized until that moment that the power went not into the jewel, but into the wielder. That was what Jason wanted, and that was his downfall.

I twisted from within. I corrupted the flow of power and therefore corrupted him. I twisted it enough to kill him, and then I changed it even more.

Jason deformed before my very eyes. I watched as his body contorted. One side of his chest collapsed; the other ripped open. His face crushed inward, and then he simply dissolved, eaten, I think, by his own power.

It took bare seconds, but I lived every moment as if Jason were me. He died while I watched, and with his death I managed total control of the gate. It closed. It shut. And now I am the new Draig, the new keeper of the demon amulet.

It will not happen again. This I swear as I write these words: such horror will never ever happen again. That is the calling of the Draig
—
to keep all life safe. Earth life, demon life, all life. And I will sacrifice all in the exercise of that duty
.

Today I am Draig-Uisage.

Patrick watched Xiao Fei's expression flicker at his dramatic statement, but she didn't rush to condemn him. She didn't say anything at all, just waited for him to continue, her gaze steady, her expression bland.

"You don't believe me," he said. "You don't think I really killed him."

"
Are
you lying?" she asked.

"No!"

"Then explain."

He rolled his head away from her, his gaze focusing on a bookcase of journals. One magazine was out of place, the June issue coming before April. On his side, he felt Xiao Fei settle against him, her head a welcome weight against his shoulder. Without conscious thought, he curled his right arm around her, drawing her close.

He turned his face back to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His heart swelled. Warmth spread through his body, most especially his lower half. He wanted to make love to her, right there on the dirty reception room floor. He wanted to have her now and keep her forever, and the fierceness of that very emotion surprised him. He would defy anyone who tried to take her from him. Violent images filled his thoughts—pictures of him beating off demons, vampires, and werewolves to protect his mate. It was all very neanderthal, but he couldn't deny the primal thrill it gave him.

He felt her sigh. Her body expanded and contracted beneath his arm, and his T-shirt heated near her mouth. But she didn't demand he confess anymore. In fact, she was conspicuously silent.

"What happens if I don't tell you?" he asked.

"Nothing."

He frowned, sensing a trap. "Nothing, but you'll hate me forever? Nothing, but you'll punish me with angry silence? Nothing, but—"

"Nothing!" She lifted her head, annoyance tightening her features. "You don't owe me anything, Patrick. You want to keep a part of yourself hidden, fine. But don't forget: love is about sharing. It's about joining together. You can't bind together what you hold apart. It's not possible."

He shook his head, half mocking. "Is that what the monks taught you?"

She stared at him. "Yeah, it is. So choose, Patrick. Are we building bridges or walls?"

He growled. It was an actual growl that made his stomach clench and his jaw protrude. It was low and angry, and it made him feel like an animal. And all the while, his mind kept telling him that she was right. That he had asked—was still asking—for a huge amount of faith from her. Telling her his most painful story was the least he could do.

"I'm a killer, Xiao Fei. That's what Draigs do for druids—we discipline. And in this case, I killed. There was no court of law, no police, no due process. I took my best friend's energy and twisted it so violently that he died. Horribly." Patrick swallowed, stunned that he had spoken so bluntly about something that still haunted his nightmares. "So, you still want to save the world with me, or should I tell Peter the whole thing's off?"

Her voice was matter-of-fact. "The whole thing was never on. I haven't agreed yet."

Patrick covered his eyes with his left arm, a sense of profound defeat stealing over him. It felt as if his soul were shrinking into a tiny, desiccated lump that would blow away in a stiff wind.

Xiao Fei gave him no respite. She saw through his pain and asked, "Want a hair shirt to go with all that self-pity?"

He turned, furious. "What do you want from me, Xiao Fei? And don't say nothing, because we both know that's not true. I know what I want from you—what
the world
wants from you. What do you want from me?"

She lifted up on her elbow to study him. "I don't know," she said softly.

He sighed. "I want to get this damn day over with. I want the gate closed, the demons gone, and—" He stopped abruptly, stunned by what he'd been about to say.

"And… ?" she prompted.

"And I want to take you home to meet my mother. I want to show you off to my father, and listen to you talk tea with my sister. I want to see your toothbrush in my bathroom and hear my brother talk enviously about your beautiful breasts." He rolled away from her so that he could sit up and face her fully. "I want you in my life."

She stared at him intently. "Why did you kill your best friend?"

"Because he was killing demons." His words were curt and angry. He didn't miss the irony of the situation. He had destroyed Jason for the very thing he so desperately wanted to do right now—kill demons. "Jason was a faith healer, extorting money from the rich while he used his druidic powers to heal them."

Xiao Fei frowned. "But he was healing them…"

"He made them sick in the first place. Then he'd take huge amounts of money to fix what he'd caused."

"Oh," Xiao Fei said.

"Yeah, oh." Patrick rubbed a hand over his face. "His father found out and tried to stop him."

"But as the Draig-Uisge,
you
had to do it?"

Patrick shook his head. How to explain that night? "Jason was Draig then. He poisoned his father for years just so he could get the draig power." He swallowed. "The amulet."

He saw Xiao Fei fit the pieces together. "The demon amulet?" she asked. "That's what he wanted?"

"Yes."

He watched a muscle in her jaw twitch. "And he made that damn thing with sick people just so he could cure them for money." She paused. "What a prick. He was your best friend?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head. "So, Dad finds out and goes to confront him. He pleads with his son to remember all that is good and true and honorable."

Patrick bit back a growl at her amused tone. "You have a problem with that?"

She actually smiled. "It's very American."

"Because you Cambodians don't have a sense of right and wrong?" he drawled.

"In Cambodia, a relative is more likely to congratulate someone for being
so
smart and then try to wheedle in on the cash."