The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Page 15

  “Careful.” He came closer. “Make sure you speak the right words, little witch. We wouldn’t want any problems.” Whosoever dwells in the shelter of the . . . Speak the words, witch. Free us.

  Pain spiked through her skull. Her head began to throb as if her brain were swelling, pushing against her eyes and sinuses. Tears flowed down her face, leaving itchy trails.

  She drew on her Magic again, allowing it to pulse through her.

  “Quit resisting.” Speak the words. You’re safe. We won’t hurt you today. Not yet. Not too much.

  “Whosoever dwells in—” She snapped her mouth shut. No!

  “Good, little witch.”

  She forced her attention back to fighting his suggestions. Pulled more energy from the Earth, letting it pulse through her. She couldn’t speak the spell. She couldn’t set him free.

  A fresh spike of pain slashed through her head and strangled sound broke from her lips. Warm, wet liquid trickled from her nose. She couldn’t resist forever. Black dots checkered across her vision. Her fingers ached. Burned.

  He curled his fingers around her throat. Started to squeeze. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Her lungs began to burn. Everything around her shifted as the first wave of dizziness set in and her mind began to wander. “Whosoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High—”

  Crowley jerked his hand back with a shout.

  She sucked in a hard breath, holding it when the urge to speak the spell came back two-fold.

  Crowley held his hand up between them. It was black. The skin brittle, the small muscles beneath the skin sunken like dried prunes. Slowly, the blackness edged up his wrist, wasting everything as it went. He took a step back, eyes wide.

  The same thing had happened to Lilith. The same . . . Why the hell did she infect him but not Duncan?

  He looked down at himself. “You.” His mouth twisted and he laughed. “All this time. . . .” He shook his head. “Leopold will pay for this, the shit.” He backed up, twirling his good arm overhead. A black circle opened above him, a place where no stars showed, and where the edges were a lighter gray.

  With his blackened hand, he pointed. “You and I, little witch, we’ll meet again. Soon.”

  A rush of wind blew up into the void, growing stronger, bending the palm trees and raising the sand in little whirlwinds. Stronger, it sucked him right up into the circle.

  His talent released her. She’d been straining so hard against his will, when the resistance disappeared, she collapsed to the ground, choking. Her throat was raw and when she wiped her hand under her nose, it came away covered in blood. Her hands . . . the veins beneath the skin had turned black. She’d overreached with her Magic, trying to hold his suggestions at bay.

  The noise from the creatures grew louder as they, too, were dragged along and sucked up into the portal before it closed with a pop.

  The wind died.

  Her ears rang in the silence.

  “Trina!” Duncan paced the clearing, shouting her name.

  “Here.” But her voice came out little more than a croak. She clutched at her throat, dragged herself to her feet and stumbled down the hill.

  There were survivors. Not many, but a few. They held their guns, pointing them in Duncan’s direction as if they weren’t sure if he were friend or foe.

  “Duchess.” His clothes were shredded and the gouges across his cheek and nose looked like macabre war-paint.

  “Your face.” He had more scratches on his arms. His chest.

  “We’ll sort it out when we get home.” He took hold of her chin, tipping her face into the light. “Crowley?”

  “I forgot he was a mesmerist. I forgot and . . . .” She started trembling so much, her voice shook. “I fucked up.” Again.

  “Okay.” He pulled her into his arms. He was warm from exertion and solid and she didn’t deserve such consideration after what happened. Goddess help her she’d walked right up to Crowley and announced her presence. The Nephilim were loose. Crowley was free.

  Bad things come to those who deny their true selves, girly. Pain comes to those who resist.

  “We’ll get another chance.”

  No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t keep screwing up. She’d have to let Duncan transform her. Lilith would heal and Lilith could fight Crowley. She couldn’t risk another mistake.

  She couldn’t risk Duncan again. “You almost died.”

  “I’m not nowhere near ash.” He squeezed her. “A few scratches is all.”

  She snorted. “Because of me. I insisted we come.”

  “You sped up our arrival, that’s all.” He pushed her to arm’s length. “You sure you’re all right?”

  No. But she didn’t speak, just stood there, shivering.

  “Anything starting to hurt now that the excitement is done?” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, spit on it. Scrubbed it under her nose.

  “What are you—?” She snatched the cloth out of his hand.

  “Just a bit of blood, love. There.” He grinned, winked. “Now you look a bit more human.”

  “I don’t believe you did that.” But she dabbed the thing under her nose again, making sure he hadn’t missed any.

  “Those hands of yours okay?”

  They burned. Ached. But it wouldn’t last for long. “They’ll be fine.” The damn handkerchief smelled like him, like rain in the desert. “It smells like you.”

  He grinned. “Like that, do you?”

  A snarl came from their left and his smile disappeared. He took two steps to the side, pulled his blade and let the stray Nephilim drive itself onto his knife. The creature dissolved into a spray of ash. “Must not have been fully transformed when Crowley made his getaway. Guess we should take a quick look about and make sure there ain’t any others that got left behind.”

  She nodded.

  “Stick close, Duchess. Some of these bodies may still transform.”

  They headed back toward the building, pausing so Duncan could stab those lying in the sand to make sure they were dead and not in the dormant phase of transformation. Two humans followed them, watching their every move. “We’ve got company.”

  “Good.” He went up the steps to the building and pulled open the door. “Maybe they’ll bloody well learn something.”

  Nothing moved within the interior of RI. Anything that had been alive in here either had died or transformed long enough ago to have left the building. There were only a handful of rooms and they made quick work of clearing them. Once they were done, they turned to leave.

  The two humans who followed raised their weapons. “Who are you?”

  She fisted her hands. “Want me to take care of them?”

  His hand settled on her shoulder and he squeezed. “Me name’s Duncan.” He folded his arms over his chest, tipping his head toward the guns. “This is an odd way to show appreciation, considering we helped you.”

  “Did you?” The nametag on his uniform identified him as S. Mason. “Where’d they go?”

  “Don’t know, mate. I suppose if you turn on the news, you’ll be finding out soon enough.”

  Mason pointed his gun. “You let him get away.”

  Duncan held up his hands. “Now, just because he got away, doesn’t mean we let him get away. You saw what happened. Most of them got sucked out of here.”

  Trina put her hand on his arm. “We should go.” Before these two lost it. She tightened her grip on Duncan. Quickly, safely . . . .

  “Look, if you need help, say my name out loud. We’ll find you.”

  The Watchers would hear them say his name. They’d let Duncan know.

  She closed her eyes and focused on home. Quickly, safely take us there, in my mind I show you where.

  Mason shouted for them to stop.

  Then they were home.

  Chapter 19

  As soon as they appeared in Haven House’s kitchen, Trina started gathering supplies. Duncan watched her for a time, he was worried about her, about those hands, but maybe she
needed to keep busy. To keep her mind from rehashing what happened.

  “Do those scratches hurt? Burn?”

  “They itch so bad I’m wanting to get in there with a Brillo Pad.”

  Her lips twitched. She selected another jar out of the drawer, shut it, and pointed toward the table. “Come on.”

  Though she tried to act normal, her hands shook. Her eyes were wide, dilated. She showed all the physical signs of shock. Their little mission hadn’t gone well. He’d expected Crowley to be in a cell somewhere, not out and about. And those creatures . . . he’d never seen anything like them. “I’d rather go in there.” He motioned to the living room.

  “Okay.”

  Once there, he sat on the floor in front of the ottoman and patted the cushion. “It’ll be easier for you to work if you’re not having to reach up, in’it?”

  She sat, put some sort of astringent on a clean white cloth and started cleaning the wounds on his nose.

  He winced at the sting. “Feel free to scrub it out good. I won’t hold it against you.”

  The corner of her mouth curved. Trembled. Fell. “They’re free.” A shudder ran through her, one so strong it made her whole body jerk. “Crowley and those monsters.” Her gaze focused on her task as she cleaned his wounds.

  He put his hands on her knees. “Talk to me, Duchess. Whatever you tell me won’t make me think no less of you.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Crowley is hated among Guardians. We’ve all had a run-in with the bastard at some point. He’s gotten to me before.”

  Her gaze flicked to his. She went to work scrubbing out another cut. “What did he want you to do?”

  “Ignore a kill order. This daemon . . . he was a real bastard. Damn near as bad a Crowley.”

  “Did you?” She dabbed some sort of cream in the freshly scrubbed wound and the burning stopped.

  “They were both gone before I realized what had happened.”

  She started scrubbing at his neck. “And later?”

  “What about it?” He grimaced.

  “Did he make you do anything else?”

  He tipped his head to the side, trying to see her eyes better. “Are you worried he’s still in your mind?”

  Another shiver rolled through her. She nodded.

  “No.” He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “He can’t do that. Once the link is broken, it’s done. I’m sorry, love. I should’ve warned you before we left. He’s a sneaky bastard, that one.”

  “I knew better. I saw him mesmerize Lilith. I wasn’t expecting him to be loose and then it was too late.”

  What all could Crowley have used her for? With her Chaos Magic . . . he couldn’t begin to imagine what he might have had her do. “What did he want?”

  She sat back on his thighs. “He wanted me to perform an exorcism.”

  Exorcism? He’d thought she’d cast that portal thingy that let them get away. “Did you . . . what am I saying, of course you did. He had you mesmer—”

  “I resisted. I don’t know how exactly, I kept flooding Magic through myself and I resisted.”

  He’d never heard of anyone resisting Crowley. He was an arse, but damned good at using his talent. He’d had centuries to perfect it. On the other hand, Trina had some scary-ass Magic. “Did he say why? What’s possessing him?”

  “No.” She bit her lip.

  “Duchess?” He brushed the silky strands of her hair back, tethering them behind her ear and for the first time he noticed the blackened fingerprints around her throat. Crowley’s luck had run out. The fucker was ash, he just didn’t know it yet. “You’re holding something back. I can’t help you through this if I don’t know everything.”

  “His skin turned black. When he touched me.” Her hand went to her throat, her fingers clawing as if she could still feel his hand on her skin.

  Gently, he pulled her hand down.

  “He laughed about it.” She speared her fingers through her hair. “When the darkness infected Lilith it was painful for her.” She met his gaze. “Crowley laughed as if it didn’t matter.”

  “Okay.” He put both his hands along her jawline, cupping her face and making her look at him. “I ain’t getting burned.” You know how it is with your mate.

  “Just you.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Everyone else I touch, I infect. What if that changes? What if I start infecting you, too?” Her hand flung out to the side. “And now the Nephilim are free—”

  “Nephilim?” He sat back. That wasn’t good.

  “That’s what he called those monsters. He introduced them as his children, the Nephilim. I think I should call—”

  “I think you should go take a shower. Put some comfortable clothes on. Eat. Rest. Then, if you want to chat some more, we can.” He needed to think. Nephilim?

  She flung herself against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.

  This time, a shiver ran through him. Awkwardly, he gave her a pat. “You’re gonna be fine, Duchess. You’ll see.”

  “I’m more worried about you.” For a moment, she sat back on his thighs and looked him over, her gaze tracing each of the scratches. Then she stood and turned to leave.

  He patted her bum. “I’m gonna be fine, too.”

  She froze. Turned and stared with a look that hovered between incredulous and outraged.

  Shite. He held up his hands. “Look, I didn’t think that one through. You can smack my arse if it makes you feel better.”

  Her eyes narrowed but she left without another word.

  Christ. They were in some serious shite. Nephilim were the product of angels and humans. They hadn’t walked the Earth since before the Great Deluge. Said so right in the fucking bible. At least now he understood why Armageddon had started. Had Crowley called them his “children” . . . or was it the being possessing Crowley? A Watcher, maybe? That would explain why the Watchers were fighting. That might explain why they only wanted to talk via human—maybe the Watcher possessing Crowley couldn’t put humans in a trance while possessing another body. It did explain why Trina and Lilith were coming into their powers now. And why Augustina couldn’t see Crowley.

  Shite. Augustina.

  He wasn’t the only one Trina had touched without ill effects.

  She’d hugged Augustina.

  So had Augustina been immune like him? Or did Trina not infect anyone but Lilith and Crowley?

  Chapter 20

  Amazing what a shower and a fresh change of clothes could do for a male. Duncan felt halfway human. Well, maybe he wouldn’t go quite that far, but he did feel a fair shake better than he had. He’d fed and the wounds from the Nephilim had almost healed. The gunshot wound healed, leaving a scar. But all the bruises had turned deep purples and blues.

  He left the bathroom, finishing buttoning his shirt as he went down to the kitchen.

  Trina sat at the table looking for all the world like she’d shot her favorite dog.

  “What’s up?”

  “I talked to James. Lilith is getting worse.”

  “Ah.” He leaned his hip against the counter. This must be killing her trying to decide between the rest of her life and Lilith’s. “I hope he didn’t try to pressure you into anything.”

  “I didn’t tell him what Augustina said.”

  He nodded. Probably for the best.

  “Our moms were close.”

  “Oh?” She must mean her and Lilith’s mums.

  She crossed her arms on the table and rested her chin on them. “I remember mine telling people that Lilith and I were best friends since we were in the cradle. Her mom used to introduce me as her niece even though we weren’t related.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to do this. You need to make the choice that’s best for you.”

  “Lilith wouldn’t have hesitated. I’ll always hate myself a little for the fact that I have.” She sat up and dragged her hands through her hair. “Lilith could’ve beat Crowley. She and James would have already i
f not for me.”

  He didn’t have a ready reply for that, though he didn’t think it was true. While he hadn’t seen James or Lilith fight, he didn’t think anyone would’ve fared much better than they had under the circumstances.

  She stood. “I need to do this. I knew I did when I drew the Ten of Swords—the card of transformations.” She walked up to him and thrust out her arm, offering him her wrist.

  Now what? If he did as she asked, would she end up hating him? What if he refused and her friend disappeared? Bloody hell, neither option would leave him smelling like roses.

  “Wait.” She snatched her arm back and paced again, shaking her arms out at her sides. “I need a minute.”

  He admired that even scared, she still intended to go through with the transformation. “You’re giving me a headache, love.” He unfolded himself from his lounge and strode toward the living room, scooping her up as he passed.

  “Put me down.” She thumped him on his chest to emphasize her demand.

  “How ’bout you shut it.” He gave her a little shake to settle her down as he stalked over to the big arm chair and sat.

  She tried to get up.

  He pulled her down on his lap, held her hands in one of his and arranged her the way he wanted her, shoving her head down on his shoulder. “Quit fighting me, I’m bloody well comforting you and you’re gonna let me.”

  She went limp, allowing him to pull her tight into his embrace. Awkwardly, he alternated between rubbing and patting her back while he tried to think of something appropriate to say. Some comforting sentiment.

  “If you keep doing that I’m going to burp.”

  “Shite. Sorry.”

  Her shoulders shook. For a paralyzing moment he thought he’d made her cry. A giggle escaped.

  The awkwardness evaporated. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yeah.”

  Biting her didn’t fall within the boundaries of his plan to earn her trust, damn it.

  “Tell me what to expect.” She whispered her worry against his neck. “Will I be myself? Will I have control?”

  Control? Not bloody likely. Neophytes were inconsolable in their first bloodlust, but he’d take care of her. The thing was, as the Original she wasn’t supposed to turn into a vampire exactly. He didn’t know what to expect. “I won’t let you do anything you’ll regret.”