Vowed in Shadows (41 page)

“Nim!”

She turned her sun-blinded eyes—damn it, were those tears again?—toward Jonah's call.

He bounded out of the woods, someone's borrowed spear half raised in his good hand. Since it was only half raised, he must not have seen Corvus. But his blue eyes were narrowed in suspicion, so she wasn't entirely off the hook.

She smiled grimly to herself. Off the hook? Oh, she so wasn't off the hook.

Jonah was beyond wrecked, she knew, that he took her smile at face value and let the sword drop to his side. “Don't sneak off.”

“I didn't get far.” She thought she shouldn't bother denying the “sneak” part. “Just wanted to marvel at our miraculous survival.”

He prodded the ruined wings with the butt of the spear. “Too bad Corvus survived too.”

“Yeah. And took the anklet with him.”

“We'll get it back.” He wasn't so weary that he didn't recognize the incredulous look she shot him. He shrugged one shoulder. “We must.”

No matter what. If she wanted to marvel, here was another opportunity. Not a miracle, but horror. After what had just happened, he was ready to go again. If Corvus walked out from between the trees, Jonah would fight.

She spun on her heel and strode toward the other talyan. The prickle of tiny hairs rising on the back of her neck spread down both arms. Corvus was watching them go. He wanted her alone.

Well, hadn't she always been that? Until Jonah.

She kept her pace brisk until they cleared the knot of trees, then slowed to match her steps to his. “Thanks for saving my ass.”

“Thanks for saving mine.”

“Remember you said that,” she murmured.

The talyan were draining the last of the ferales they'd incapacitated during the fight. As the orange caution lights went out in the snapping-turtle eyes, the husks clattered apart.

“Ashes to dust to mud.” Sera flung down the last husk. It shattered in a spray of shell and bone and glass shards. “And gone.”

Archer touched the small of her back, and she whirled with demon speed. Nim took a worried breath, but the other woman threw herself into her mate's arms.

Across the clearing, Ecco ripped apart the chain-link fence. Four white-bound forms lay in the grass, and Nim averted her gaze as the talyan lifted their dead brethren with gentle strength. Haji looked almost as white as they helped him into the truck, their encouraging whispers too soft for her demon to hear.

“Don't,” Jonah said softly.

“Don't what?” Don't curse. Don't scream. Don't touch. Don't die.

“You're thinking that it should've been you.”

She tried to make her face as smooth as glass, but there wasn't much inspiration in the rubble. Inside, she felt as torn. “You can't read my mind.”

“Not even necessary, since everyone here feels the same.”

“It wasn't their fuckup, losing the anklet.”

“You're part of the league now. Fuckup for one, fuckup for all.” His weary smile invited her to tease him.

She couldn't. They had made her one of them—one for all—and look what had happened to them.

Demon possessed they might be, and doomed to fight from the shadows, but they had twisted their darkness into something that looked a helluva lot like light. And love.

If only she could have seen that earlier. If only she could have seen it in herself.

When she didn't answer, Jonah's smile turned brittle, but he reached for her and drew her into his arms. “After I lost my hand, I thought I had nothing more to offer. I thought I'd never be anything but an ugly reminder. But I was wrong.” He pulled away a little to look down at her. “I won't say you're my reason for living. I won't burden you with that again. But you make living . . . good.” He kissed her temple, and his gentleness—more shattering than anything else that night—made her close her eyes. “We'll get through this.”

“I know you will.” She'd make damn sure of that.

In the end, she didn't even have to be particularly sneaky.

Jonah, Jilly, and a handful of others had volunteered to take the fallen talyan to the league's burial ground down south.

“It's quiet down there, empty,” he told Nim from the shower. “No people means no tenebrae. Just grass and sky.”

She sat on the tile floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. She'd lost the impetus to unlace her mudsoaked sneakers. This was the last straw for them, she decided morosely. Even though the canvas was black, the filth was so ingrained, the shoes couldn't be saved. “How long will you be gone?”

“Just for the day. It's a long drive, but we'll come right back. One promise we make is to bury the dead before the decades of immortality catch up with the corpse. And then we carry on the fight.”

When she didn't answer, he poked his head out around the curtain. “Get in while the water's hot. I won't bother you.”

“I don't mind being hot and bothered.” She gave up on the laces and toed off the shoes before stripping. She slid into the shower next to him. “If you're not still mad at me for going with Fane.”

“I'm furious.” But his hand smoothing lather over her shoulder belied his words. “Just don't do it again.”

She rested her forehead against his chest. “I won't go anywhere with the angel-man,” she promised. How easy was that?

He took a small step back, as far as the shower allowed, and tipped her head up to stare into her eyes.

Oops, had she sounded too accommodating?

But his gaze was soft. “Are you still mad at me?”

“For what?”

“For being an idiot?”

“Oh. Well, if I held that against every man . . .”

“Not every man. Me.” He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “I want to be your only man.”

“You are,” she whispered.

“I want you, Nim, as I've never wanted anything. Not for the fight, not for the teshuva or myself. For you. I love you.”

Slowly, as if he wanted her to have time to object, he lowered his head to replace the touch of his hand with his lips. He slicked his fingers through her hair and tipped her head back to kiss her neck. “I'd give the rest of myself, all my words of love, everything I am, for you.”

She closed her eyes as the water beaded along her lashes.

He knelt, streaming kisses down between her breasts to her belly. He spanned the small of her back, eased her toward his mouth to kiss her navel. “I'd give my other hand, my life, my soul, for you.”

“Just give me this.”

“Always.” He traced the lines of her
reven
with his tongue, and his kiss slipped lower yet.

He brought her to climax against the wall of the shower, eased into her, and rocked her hard until she came again. Then he kissed her gently once more. “I'll see you tonight. Maybe we can go out in the boat. Far out.” And he left her standing there.

The water had turned to ice before she stopped crying.

She left a note on Mobi's tank:
Rats are in the fridge. Label says “yogurt” so Ecco won't eat it.
She added a smiley face, which looked really lame, considering he'd be reading the note because she was dead. So she sketched the smiley into a heart. Then she just ripped off that part of the paper and tossed it in the trash.

What he'd said in the shower . . . He knew her in ways no one else ever had. He'd touched her when that had been the one thing she'd forbidden.

Now she remembered why. A touch could hurt. And it hurt worse when the touch was gone.

She left her hopelessly disgusting sneakers in the bathroom, found the strappy new heels she'd bought with an angel's money, and teetered down the silent hall on her toes so the heels wouldn't click.

She'd made it as far as the front door.

“Going somewhere?”

She stopped, pivoted slowly, not to be coy but because the five-inch spikes prevented anything else. “Out.”

Ecco appeared from behind one of the columns supporting the inner walls. Walls, she knew, that had been cross-braced the last time the league had confronted Corvus and almost lost. The big talya swept her with a rude gaze. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks. They don't come in a size eleven.”

He smiled, sharp as his missing gauntlets. “Size fifteen, sugar.”

She didn't think she could take Ecco, even without his gauntlets. She didn't
want
to take him on. If she never saw another single drop of talya blood . . . She tossed her head, wishing she had the dreads to lash around. “I'm meeting Jonah later.” There. That would explain the sandals and shut the man up.

She gestured at the box in his arms. “Moving out?” She managed to infuse it with the tone that said,
Running away?
Insults would make him glad to see her go.

“Leftovers from last night,” he said. “Sera wanted to run some experiments. She thinks Corvus was up to something superbad.”

“No doubt,” Nim muttered.

“Worse than usual. Tenebrae, encased in glass . . .” He shook his head. “Strange way to keep them fresh.”

“I'm sure Sera will figure it out,” Nim said. “If you'd take her the stuff sometime this century.”

Ecco's gaze fixed on her again. “We've got forever.”

Not necessarily. Corvus had said “tonight.” “Trust me, us female talya aren't that patient.”

Ecco snorted. “Seems to me you girls put up with far too much.”

“Don't worry,” she said softly. “Someone will find you one day.”

His face tightened. The broken glass chimed in the box under his grip. He turned on his heel and left.

That had been almost too easy. A man rocking gauntlets shouldn't wear his heart on his sleeve.

The heat tried to flatten her as she stepped out onto the street. Luckily, her spiky heels kept her upright. A passing truck driver honked his horn, and she flipped him off. It was good to be out in the city.

She walked the streets like a hooker looking for a trick. And it would be a trick to see how Corvus contacted her. How would he even find her? He couldn't exactly call the @1 number and ask for her.

Somehow, come night, she didn't think he'd have a problem. Which left her with a few hours to kill.

Suddenly, she wished she hadn't used quite that phrase.

She couldn't even shop, since she hadn't taken Jonah's wallet. Well, she'd taken twenty bucks, but only so she could catch a cab to her doom, as soon as she figured out where her doom was.

In the meantime, the new sandals were wearing a blister on her heel. She needed a place to sit while the demon did its patch work. So she walked to the Congolese diner.

The dinner rush was on, but there were still a few open seats at the counter. She slid onto the stool and reached for a menu. Ms. Mbengue had the page in her hand before she could complete the gesture. “Thanks.”

The woman nodded. “Coffee?”

Nim hesitated. “Chai, please.” She concentrated on the list of odd items so she didn't have to meet the other woman's gaze. “I guess I'll have whatever Jonah ordered before.”

“That was breakfast. Would you like to try something more substantial, since it's getting late?”

Nim let the menu drop, wondering at the edge in Ms. Mbengue's voice. Nothing so simple as jealousy; that was easy to recognize. Not pity or disgust either; those were easy to pick out too. The woman was watching her with something like . . . yes, it was kindness.

Nim wrinkled her nose. She had enough kind women in her life now to start her own support group. Somehow she doubted they'd give her a “you go, girl” cheer on her plans for the evening. “Whatever you think is good.”

Ms. Mbengue gave another brisk nod. “It's good you trust Mr. Walker. He is a good man.”

“Good, good, good,” Nim muttered under her breath as the woman bustled away. That's exactly why she had to track down the evil djinn-man on her own. Because the good man had rubbed off on her, got his goods all over her, and see where she was now?

Unfortunately, blaming Jonah for loving her didn't make her feel any better than sitting at his favorite diner without him. Bad enough she had to save his life—a life he was so damned eager to throw away because of her mistake. She also wanted to save him from loving a woman who could never be good enough.

Ms. Mbengue brought a bowl of steaming stew along with the chai, iced this time. The woman hovered, until Nim realized she was supposed to give some indication that the choice was to her liking. She took up her spoon with a silent sigh. Her breath kicked up the scent of potent spices. Oh, so
that
was how kind the lady was.

Nim tweaked her demon to standby and took a sip.

Fires of hell. Tears sprang to her eyes, too quick for the demon's healing.

“Jonah prefers his pepper soup with more chili sprinkles.” Ms. Mbengue hefted a small pot of red flakes. “Would you . . . ?”

Nim gestured silently at her bowl, and Ms. Mbengue added a pinch. “He says it brings out the flavor.”

“The flavor of hot?” Nim asked hoarsely.

Ms. Mbengue smiled. “Ginger and tamarind.”

“Ah yes. I taste it now.” She'd never taste anything again, since she'd been told the teshuva couldn't restore what had been permanently removed, like her tongue.

Ms. Mbengue gazed over her head. “Doesn't the day feel cooler now?”

“Pretty much anything would be cooler right about now.”

The woman's smile deepened. “Try the tea.”