Strife: Hidden Book Four (14 page)

We were nearly at Hart Plaza when I felt it: a creeping, tickling sense of fear surrounding me, nearly suffocating me. I glanced at Nain, saw him looking around.

You feel this?
he asked in my mind

Yeah. This must be Terror.

As if to punctuate my words, screams erupted from Hart Plaza, and Nain and I ran there. The Plaza wasn’t crowded, but it was its usual mix of skaters and loiterers. There were maybe fifteen other people in the plaza, and they were herded into a small group, all of them looking around as if waiting for an attack.

That right there told you all you needed to know, made it clear that something was wrong. Sticking to your own and minding your own business were pretty much par for the course around here. If a bunch of strangers were herding together for safety, that was a pretty clear sign something was wrong.

And that was when I felt it. Strength. Immortal, ancient power. She materialized not a foot away from Nain and swung a huge, medieval-looking black ax at his head. I shoved him away just in time, and her blade just missed his throat.

Get them out of here. Their fear is feeding her
, I told Nain, and he started running toward the Normals, shouting that they needed to leave. I knew him. He’d order, and then he’d threaten and anyone stupid enough to try to resist would see a little of his demon and they’d run. I couldn't focus on that, though, because right then Terror was swinging her ax at me. I ducked. I was trying not to use my powers, because I didn’t know how long this would go on and weakening myself early, putting myself in pain, would only be trouble for me the longer it went on.

She was strong. She’d been feeding well in all of the fear she’d caused in this part of the city over the past several months.

As I spun around, I had a moment to look toward where the Normals had been. They were running, Nain shouting after them to go, fast.

Once I was sure no one was watching, I held my hand out, and my sword appeared, black flames leaping along its thin blade.

“Pretty toy, little Fury. A bit refined for my taste, though,” Terror said. Her voice was soft, almost delicate. She didn’t look the way you’d expect “Terror” to look. She looked like a Disney princess; big blue eyes, rosy skin. Long, wavy blond hair cascading down her back in waves. She wore jeans and a pale blue sweater. Really, the only thing that would mark her as anything other than a stupidly gorgeous human were the sharp, razor-like teeth she bared at me as I swung the sword at her. That, and the fingernails that looked more like claws than nails.

She darted away from my blade, practically pirouetting and reaching my left side. She wound up to swing again, and I remembered my lessons with Athena; as she opened herself up to swing, I sliced forward with my sword and ended up getting her across the ribcage, a slash of red appearing on her light blue top. She hissed, and it was more in anger than pain.

“I was playing nice, Fury,” she said. “But fine. We’ll do it your way.” And then she rushed me, ax raised, and I readied myself for it. At the last second, the ax disappeared, and she held a knife, which she maneuvered with almost dizzying speed. I ducked away from her, but she still caught my shoulder, and I felt the tip of the knife hit bone as she stabbed downward.

I grunted in pain, trying to ignore it. At least it had been my left arm.

Nain was nearby, watching, looking for opportunities to jump in.

Stay back,
I ordered him, and felt a torrent of rage and irritation come from him.

Fuck that Molly. You’re already bleeding.

So is she. Stay back.

She was everywhere, using the knives, then a mace (seriously? A goddamned mace), swinging it above her head and then at me, nearly taking my head off as I tried to avoid her.

“Come on little Fury. Fear me. I can only imagine what your fear would do for me,” she said, swinging at me again.

Shows how much she knows about me. The more she fought me, the angrier I got. There’s no room for fear when I’m pissed off. It’s a Nether thing, maybe. Or maybe it’s just me. But my rage is all-consuming, and there is no room for anything else. She was doing a good job of helping me get my rage on.

I slashed out with the sword, catching her forearm, the flames of my blade sizzling as they met flesh. She shouted in pain.

I slashed out again, and she barely blocked me, making the ax appear again. I grunted as the contact reverberated, making my shoulders ache. She glanced toward Nain, and then she smiled. I panicked, tried to slash out at her again. And then she was gone and I looked around, seeing her rematerialize a few feet behind me. She had a gun in her hand, and she smiled as she let off a shot, just before I charged into her, knocking her down.

It didn’t hit me.

I heard Nain grunt behind me, and I saw red. I could feel his anger. He was in pain. I grabbed the avatar of Terror around the throat, and she clawed my arms, bared her teeth at me.

“Better go, Fury. He’s hurt bad,” she said, grinning a feral smile. “I think I hit something important.”

I heard myself roar. I lost all sense of myself. And I squeezed, as hard as my body would let me. I felt her struggle, and then I felt her go still, and still I squeezed, and I tore my way into her mind. I could see Strife there. Exactly as she had appeared to the Normals. They’d been working together. And I saw the source of her power.

Immortal power.

The power of the avatar of terror.

Ancient and terrifying.

Take it.

Take it.

Take it.

“Molly, don’t,” I heard Nain shout behind me.

Take it. You know you want it.

“Stop, Molly.”

Imagine how strong we could be,
a sinuous, sibilant voice in my mind.

“Molls!”

You have to fight me off, don’t you?
And then a throaty laugh, bordering on a cackle.

“Baby, come on,” Nain, groaning now behind me.

Take it, you fool. Before it escapes this body.

I shook my head. Made myself let go of the avatar’s body, made myself leave her mind. Once I stopped touching it, the body just disappeared, as if it had never been there at all, and I felt the spirit of Terror leave. It would inhabit another body at some point. But it would be new, and it wouldn’t be after my blood.

I shook myself out of it, got up and ran toward Nain. His chest was a mess. She’d hit right near his heart. He was breathing heavily. Shaking. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“No. No goddamn way,” I said, falling to my knees next to him. I slashed my wrist, let the blood pour over his wound. “Why weren’t you in your demon form?” I chided him. In his human skin, he was much more vulnerable. That, and the fact that I was almost sure the weapons used by the avatar of Terror were much more lethal than what we usually faced, had ensured that he wasn’t going to be with me much longer.

“What the hell are you doing?” he grunted, trying to push my hand away.

“Healing you. Goddamn it,” I shouted.

He groaned, tried to push me away. “You can’t fix this.”

“The hell I can’t,” I muttered. “Don't push me again.”

I opened the vein again, let my blood pour into him. He stopped trembling.

“It burns,” he groaned.

“That’s how it feels when you heal. Now shut up,” I said. I could feel myself weakening, my heart struggling against the massive blood lost while healing Nain. My nose was bleeding, my skin cracking, burning, from using my powers against Terror. Nether was raging in my mind, angry with me for not doing as she ordered.

I tried to ignore it all, and stared at Nain’s chest. Watched bone reform itself, muscles and skin slowly but surely knitting back together.

One more time.

I slashed my wrist again, worked the blood into the last of the wound. My heart was thundering within me, sputtering as if it was ready to give up.

“No more, baby. I’m fine. Stop it,” Nain said, sitting up and gripping my upper arms. I looked at his face. He was still deathly pale, but he was alert. No more trembling. No more blood from his mouth. I felt tears come to my eyes and my vision swam in front of me. One of the imps appeared at Nain’s side, shoved a shirt toward him, still sporting its tags.

“Can’t walk through the city like that demon,” the imp, Falrog, said.

“Thank you,” Nain said to it, and the imp thumped its fist to its chest, saluting him the same way they saluted me.

I sat and watched him strip off what was left of his destroyed, bloody shirt. He set it on the ground, and I threw flames at it. Leaving our blood sitting around was a bad idea.

“Thanks. Don’t use your powers any more now.”

“Fuck off,” I said. I brought my knees up, rested my face against them, mostly so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I didn’t want to see his muscles bunching as he moved, or that trail of dark hair that led from his navel and into the waistband of his jeans. I sat, and refused to look at him, and forced my tears back, and felt myself burn as I healed. My heart rate settled back to normal, and I stopped trembling as my wounds, both those received at Terror’s hands and those I’d caused to myself, healed. I sat there, and I felt Nain sit beside me. Close, but not touching. And I knew damn well what he was doing. I could feel my power building again, my body strengthening, healing faster, because of his demonic rage feeding my own demon.

After a while, I felt whole, full of power again. I stood up and walked away from him, back toward the RiverWalk. He followed me, and we didn't say anything for a long time. I tried to shut down all of the emotions I was feeling. I tried to focus on details: the sound of the river to our right, the lights twinkling downtown to our left. Anything but the man behind me and the feelings running through me.

Of course, he broke the silence.

“I didn’t know you could do that. Thanks for saving me.”

And something snapped. I growled, and I shoved him as hard as I could. He hit the wall of a building nearby. “Fuck you, Nain,” I said.

He sprung up, eyes glowing red, an immediate demonic response to a threat of any kind.

“What the hell, Molly?”

“Just shut up,” I growled, and I dropped my enchantment on myself, letting him see my eyes glowing, my wings. My own response.

“You’ve been ready to rip my head off all night. What’s your problem?”

I rushed him, shoved him again, my rage overtaking me. “You are such an asshole,” I shouted.

“Stop,” he said, grabbing my arms when I tried to hit him. I fought against him. He groaned in response to my rage, my power swirling around us. And I couldn’t get a lid on it, couldn’t stop being angry, especially after what we’d just gone through, seeing him near death again.

“Do you even know what today is, you son of a bitch?” I asked him, still struggling, still trying to hit him.

He held me tight. “What the hell are you talking about?’

I growled again, determined to get loose so I could hurt him.

“I hate you,” I said, feeling some of the fight go out of me, feeling stupid tears come to my eyes. I tried to push him away. “I hate you so much.”

“Molls. What’s going on?”

“It’s the anniversary of the day I killed you.”

“I’m alive.”

“You are such a bastard. Is that supposed to make me forget the way it felt when I killed you? Am I supposed to forget the way my soul ripped when you died? Or the way I felt the pain I caused you? Or the emptiness I felt the instant you were gone?” By now I was crying, shouting, tears coursing down my face, still struggling against his iron grip, trying to get loose.

“Honey,” he said and his voice was low. Guilt and sadness, regret coming from him.

“Get away from me,” I said, trying to pull out of his grip.

“No.”

I growled, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me against him. I tried to pull away from him, but I was exhausted and I felt the last of the fight go out of me. I felt my knees buckle, and then he was holding me up, supporting me as he held me against his body, huge strong arms encircling me as I cried. I fisted my hands in his shirt, gripping it.

“I hate you. You destroyed me. You lied to me. You made me hurt the one person in my life I ever loved.”

He didn’t say anything. He held me tight.

“Something in me died, too. And I don’t know how to get it back,” I said, and that seemed to do something to him. He raised his hands to my face, cupped my face between his hands. He leaned down and kissed first one eye, and the the other.

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” he said, his voice hoarse, rough. He pressed his lips to the top of my head, stood like that. His hands were cool on my face, his body huge, hulking, protective over mine.

I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know it was today. I’m sorry.

Let go of me.

No.

I shoved him away, and this time, he let me go. I wiped at my eyes in irritation, drying the remaining tears with my sleeve. And then I glanced at him one more time. He looked stricken, haunted almost, standing where he’d held me. I turned away and headed toward where the car was parked, knew he was following me.

We climbed into the car in silence.

“Take me back to your house.”

“Not a chance in hell, Nain.”

“You’re going to sleep tonight. You’re exhausted. Your parents aren’t around. I’ll watch you.”

“You are not fucking watching me while I sleep,” I snarled.

“Yes I am. Or do you want Nether to make another appearance? You’re upset, you’re stressed out, you’re tired. You’re hurting. I’ll sit in that chair in your room. When’s the last time you slept anyway?”

“The night with Nether,” I said.

I felt his shock. “That was over a week ago.”

I didn’t answer.

“They told me you didn’t sleep after I died. I thought they were exaggerating.”

“I’m not talking about this,” I said.

I felt his gaze on me. I just wanted him away from me. But I knew I couldn’t get rid of him that night. He was right. I was ready to fall asleep driving. And I was a mess, and Nether was already pissed off at me. I drove toward my house, and thankfully, he didn’t talk to me anymore.