Witch Blood (19 page)

“No, goddamn it. That's a dumb question,” groaned Adam, but he struggled to his feet anyway.

The blur came again, this time straight at Thomas. He swung his sword, hit air. Then a heavy fist struck the side of his head and it was his turn to kiss the ground.

Thomas blacked out for a moment under the force of the punch, but then pushed quickly to his feet, knowing they didn't have much time. The demon was just playing with them now and it wouldn't take long before he got serious. Nausea rolled around in his stomach as he balanced unsteadily, pain throbbing through his head and shoulders.

Playing with demons was just no fun at all.

He and Adam exchanged a glance and stood ready in the moonlight, both swaying a little. Blood trickled into Thomas's eye and made it burn.

Silence.

Stillness.

From Thomas's right came another blur of motion. With all his might, he concentrated on the movement and calculated the swing of his sword. Blade bit into flesh and Boyle roared. The demon's fist came down again, backhanding Thomas. His sword flew from his grasp to land in the nearby brush.

As Boyle lifted his hand again, Thomas tapped his magick. Power coursed, channeled through his chest and down his arm. He concentrated it on the earth beneath Boyle's feet, causing it to rumble and shake.

Boyle, caught off balance, stumbled backward. Adam stepped in immediately, swinging his sword at the demon who dodged the blow at the last second. The blade whistled through the air an inch from the demon's throat.

Thomas lunged for his lost weapon. As his hand closed around the grip, he heard Adam's warning, “Watch out!” and rolled to the side to see Boyle had picked up a huge branch and was attempting to skewer him with the end like a marshmallow at a campfire. The end of the branch stuck in the ground where Thomas had been just a moment before.

Thomas took the opportunity to swing the blade in an arc toward Boyle's knees, but the demon managed to pull the branch free and block his swing. The blade stuck fast in the wood like Excalibur to stone. Boyle and Thomas both pulled to extract their weapons at the same time. Wood and blade separated. Thomas rolled away while the demon turned and engaged an attack from Adam.

He pulled himself to his feet and glimpsed a prone figure in the weeds.
Jake
. Thomas couldn't tell if he still lived or not.

Thomas turned and bellowed,
“What do you want with them?”
Rage and frustration made the words echo raw and bloody into the night air, pulled from his throat with savage intensity.

Just then Adam sank the sword into the demon's leg. Boyle yelled out in pain and punched Adam so hard he flew backward, hit the ground and lay still. Icy fear clenched in Thomas's stomach. He wanted to get to him but at the moment a very pissed off demon blocked his way.

Boyle turned, pulled the sword from his leg and tossed it to the side. “I want to go home!” He took several menacing steps toward Thomas. The demon's skin now had an unnatural reddish cast to it. His eyes had bled to obsidian and the demon's grimace revealed unnaturally sharp teeth.

According to Micah these bodily changes meant the demon had entered a killing rage.
Fun.

“I just want to get home,
aeamon
,” repeated Boyle.

“So you're using the witches to open a doorway between Earth and Eudae? Is that what you're doing?”

“I am amused by the tie you have with the water witch, but your ignorance annoys me.”

Thomas circled the demon warily, sword tight in his grip. He really didn't like any words coming from the demon's mouth that concerned Isabelle. “Since I'm so ignorant, why don't you enlighten me?”

“Educating you is not my concern,
aeamon
. You're only delaying me.”

“Really? Are you in a hurry?” He paused for a moment and then rasped, “Tell me how you're doing it, Boyle.”

“It's almost done. I have only two more keys to make and I'm finished. This is nothing to you, and I have nothing to say. Leave me alone. Let me go home.”

“This is everything to me! You're killing my people!”
Thomas's throat felt raw more from shouting and rage than from the beating he'd taken. Rage at not being able to stop the demon filled every molecule of his body.

“Your people, my people. We are all one people. I want to go home. Stop trying to prevent me. Once I am gone, the killing will stop.”

“Are we really related, Boyle?” he pressed. “Are witches the offspring of demons?”

“Yes. We are kin.”

Thomas lunged for Boyle, bitter acid roiling through his stomach and burning his throat. The demon stepped to the left, but Thomas anticipated his move and twisted his blade to intercept. It caught the demon deeply in the side.

The wound smoked and the skin peeled away, just as the first time Isabelle had used her knife. Boyle keened in pain and the first drops of his acidic blood began to fall.

Thomas only had a moment to consider why this particular stroke of the copper blade had caused the reaction when the others had not, perhaps because the blade had bit so deeply. Screaming in agony, Boyle swung his heavy tree branch like a baseball bat and hit Thomas in the midsection.

Home run.

Thomas's breath woofed out of his lungs as pain exploded through his body. His feet left the earth and he landed heavily on his side, his head making hard contact with the ground. His vision blurred and his breath gone, he saw the demon there one moment and not the next.

Thomas thought of Isabelle, irrationally—her face, the feel of her breath on his throat, the scent of her skin. Lord and Lady, he wanted Isabelle now.

All he got was blackness.

“W
HAT THE HELL HAPPENED
?” I
SABELLE RACED DOWN
the steps of the Coven, her bare feet slapping on the pavement.

A blast of cool early morning air billowed under the T-shirt and boxers she'd worn to bed since Jack McAllister had been babysitting her…and because she didn't want to be sword fighting in the nude if the demon showed up in the middle of the night. That would be inconvenient.

Some of the stronger male Coven witches helped Adam and Thomas, both clearly injured, into the house. Others carried a large unconscious man whom Isabelle didn't recognize.

Damn it, she wanted to be mad at Thomas for forcing Jack on her, but instead she was terrified for him. Thomas and Adam both had torn clothing. Blood and dirt streaked their faces and shirt collars. Bruises bloomed all over both them and Adam's lip was split. Thomas walked with a distinct limp, aided on one side by his cousin Micah.

“What the hell happened?” she demanded to know again once she reached the motley group.

“Isn't it obvious?” Micah answered her. “They met the demon and the demon won.”

“Demon didn't win,” slurred Adam. “Demon didn't kill us. Demon left his prey. So…didn't win.” He staggered forward and almost planted his face on the steps—an extra injury he didn't need—before the two witches helping him walk managed to catch him. “He did kick our asses though.”

“Prey?” The word stopped her in her tracks.

Thomas held Isabelle's gaze. Now she saw his lip was also split. Blood covered the right side of his face. “The demon didn't get Jake, so he didn't win.”

“What? Who the hell is Jake?”

Thomas motioned with his head to the unconscious man they were just getting through the front doors of the Coven. “Isabelle, meet Jake. Jake, Isabelle.” The unsplit part of his mouth crooked upward in a smile before he winced and dropped it. “I don't think he'll say hi right now.”

She frowned. “Cute. Did they give you painkillers or something?”

He grimaced, but Isabelle was pretty sure he meant it to be a grin. “I missed you.”

She looked at Micah. “Seriously, did you give him painkillers?”

Thomas grimaced again. “I'll tell you everything, Isabelle. Stay with me while Doc Oliver patches me up.”

Isabelle followed them into the house and down a corridor to Doctor Oliver's facilities. They entered the large waiting room after Adam. Doc Oliver and her nurses did a booming business at the Coven these days.

Jake, Boyle's almost-dinner, was being pushed into one of the private examination rooms on a gurney. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked Micah, watching the door close behind them.

Micah shrugged. “I think he's just been knocked out cold, but it's too early to say. The doctor needs to look at him.”

Thomas rebuffed Micah's attempt to lead him to an examination room and sank down into one of the plush burgundy waiting room chairs. Adam had disappeared into one of the other rooms, probably to await the doctor like Thomas. Clearly, she needed to deal with Jake first. His injuries were the worst.

A nurse approached Thomas, but he waved her away. “I'm fine, see to Adam first.” He sounded grouchy. The nurse nodded and moved away.

“Thomas—” Isabelle objected. He didn't look fine to her, covered in blood, wincing, bruised, and limping.

He held up a hand. “Really, Isabelle. I'm okay. I didn't break anything…I don't think.”

“Great. You don't
think
. Stubborn,” she muttered, shook her head and gave up. “Tell me about this guy Jake and how he came to be Boyle's prey.”

Thomas adjusted his position for more comfort, trying not to jar his leg. Micah had taken a chair nearby. “We went to the Red Rock. It was our last stop for the night.”

“We all thought the troll for Boyle was a wash…again,” Micah added.

“But as we were leaving we heard sounds coming from behind the building. When we went around to investigate, a woman was there, beaten nearly unconscious. We recognized her from the bar, but she'd been with a man—”

Isabelle stopped chewing her thumbnail to ask, “Jake?”

“Yes. We could smell the demon had been there. That damned stink of turned, scorched other-Earth was in the air. So when she pointed to the stand of trees nearby, we went for it.”

“I stayed behind to help the woman on Thomas's orders,” Micah interjected. “Adam and Thomas went in.”

Thomas shifted again and closed his eyes for a moment. Isabelle battled the urge to call for the nurse. “We fought the demon. He kicked our asses, but I managed to lay one good swipe into him with my sword—a swipe that gave him that allergic reaction, or whatever it is. It made him leave immediately…without Jake. Maybe I laid into him so deep whatever he did to give himself resistance to the copper couldn't work. I don't know.”

Isabelle nodded. “So you think the demon was lying in wait for Jake as his next victim and you interrupted the abduction?”

Thomas nodded. “That's what I think.”

She glanced at Micah. “So when you were finished helping the injured woman, you came back and found them?”

Micah nodded. “I called the Coven and they came out immediately.”

Isabelle turned away, Boyle's words echoing in her head.
I will come for you when I am ready. I have work to do before you
. How many others were to come before her? When would Boyle come for her?

“Isabelle, are you all right?”

She turned to see Thomas's concerned expression. “I'm sick of this, sick of being one step behind Boyle.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. Thomas looked weary and she knew it was from more than a simple lack of sleep or his current physical condition. “Me, too, Isabelle. If we hadn't found Boyle when we did, Jake would have been the next victim.”

Isabelle wrapped her arms around herself and hugged. “And who knows if the demon hasn't already chosen a replacement.” She swallowed. “Maybe two of them.”

Thomas's jaw worked as he probably gritted his teeth. “I know. Takes the shine off stealing Boyle's prey tonight.”

All three of them fell silent. In the other room they could hear the doctor and her assistants working on Jake. Urgent, raised voices, beeping machines, shuffling feet.

Apparently Jake was worse off than Micah thought.

“Damn it. I have to get out of here.” Thomas pushed up from the chair onto his bad leg and winced. “I'm starving. Let's go get something to eat.”

Isabelle gaped. “What? You need to be seen by the doctor.”

Micah blew out a frustrated sounding breath. “Don't be dumb, boss. You're bleeding all over the place and your eye is almost swollen shut.”

Thomas touched his forehead. “The bleeding has stopped and my injuries aren't as bad as Jake's or Adam's. Anyway, she's going to be a while. I can grab a bite and be back before she's ready for me.”

“You stay here. Let me go get you something, Thomas.” Isabelle moved toward the door, but he caught her wrist in his iron grip.

“We'll go together. I'm sick of seeing Micah's ugly mug. It's the first damn thing I saw when I came to. All that on nothing but bourbon in my stomach. It's enough to—”

“Hey, hey!” Micah objected with a raised hand. “All right already. Go on. I'll tell the doc you'll be back soon and to tend to Adam first.”

“Thanks, cousin.” Thomas answered with a grimace-trying-to-be-a-grin and moved toward the door. “You know I was only partially kidding, right?”

“Partially. Yeah, got it. I feel the love, I really do.” He paused and glanced at Isabelle. “You know I have you to blame for this.”

Isabelle lifted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“He never used to give me shit before you came along.”

“Come on.” Thomas dragged her toward the door, limping. “I'm about ready to pass out from hunger.”

“Or blood loss,” she muttered as she followed him out.

They went to the kitchen where Thomas dragged his bad leg around, filling a plate with leftovers and pouring a glass of red wine. He put two forks down and sat in a chair beside Isabelle.

“So, how did it go with your mother?” Thomas picked up a fork and dug into some warmed-up mashed potatoes.

Isabelle shrugged. “It was weird. She wasn't cocky at all. She was…”

“Contrite?”

She shrugged again, smoothly took the fork from him, took a bite and handed it back. “I guess. Like I said, weird.”

He took a sip of wine. “And so?”

She sighed. “I'm not ready to flat-out forgive her for passing us around like she didn't want us when Angela and I were kids. I'm not ready to forgive her for a lot of things.”

“I wouldn't expect you to be.”

She took the wineglass from his hand as he set it down on the table, their fingertips brushing, and took a drink. She studied him over the rim for a moment. “But there is part of me that wants to see where this goes.”

“I'm glad, Isabelle.” He slipped the wineglass from her fingers and took a sip.

“I'm having lunch with her next week. That's all I can commit to at this time. But I think you were right.”

He served up a forkful of food for her and she ate it. “About what?”

Isabelle chewed and swallowed, then took the fork and offered Thomas a bite, which he accepted. “About her regretting. Anyway, we'll see what happens.”

Thomas pulled her chair closer to him and kissed her temple.

She turned her head and kissed his lips—the side that was the least damaged. “You smell like mud, blood, and demon.”

“I hurt just about everywhere, too.”

“So tell me more about what happened before I drag your ass back to Doctor Oliver.”

Thomas took a moment to reply. “Boyle told me all he wanted was to go home. There was longing in his voice when he talked about it.”

She screwed her face up. “Longing? Do you really think demons
long
?”

He shook his head, passed a hand over his tired-looking face. “I don't know.”

“Why would Boyle want to go home anyway? Wasn't he incarcerated as a criminal in his world? You'd think they'd just lock him up again if he went back. You'd think he'd know that.”

“Yeah. Who can understand what Boyle might be thinking? Maybe he thinks he can escape that fate once he gets there. Or maybe he hates this place so much he's willing risk anything to get home.”

She turned sober. “I wonder what he's doing right now.”

His arm tightened around her and he set his fork down.

“Yeah, you're right,” she muttered. “Let's not wonder.”

“Let's not. Wondering just killed my appetite.” He pushed his plate away. “I'm sorry about being a hard-ass about you staying at the Coven.”

Her irritation, suppressed by recent events, flared. “You're sorry? Please, Thomas, you're a total control freak. Your need to protect those around you is admirable, but—”

He turned and cupped her cheek. “Those I care about.”

“What?”

“You said I have a need to protect those around me. The category is actually a lot narrower, Isabelle. Also, it's not a need, it's an obsession.”

She tried to hold on to her anger, she really did, but the look in his eyes—his one good eye, anyway—spoke such truth to what he said. Protecting people was Thomas's calling. Her mouth twitched as she forced away a smile of happiness. She directed her gaze across the kitchen. “You should see someone for that.”

He dropped his hand from her face. “Maybe.”

Thomas picked up his wineglass and took a drink. Again Isabelle took it from his fingers without even thinking about it, raising the rim to her lips and sipping. The way they sat there so close, sharing food and wine, it was like they were a couple.

Like they were in love.

Lord and Lady, she couldn't do this. Boyle was coming for her. Unless she could find a way to stop the demon when her number came up, she was going to die. She couldn't allow herself to get any closer to Thomas than she already was, both for her own sake and for his. Anything else would be cruel.

She hesitated lowering the wineglass from her mouth, then set it aside and pushed away from Thomas a little. “I thought after all this was over I might try Asia for a couple of years.” She tried to sound flippant, but her voice came out tight.

Something dark flickered through his eyes. He glanced away and when he looked back at her there was mild, polite interest on his face—feigned. She could feel displeasure and anger emanating from him. “Asia? Really? Where exactly? Asia is a big place.”