Absolution (6 page)

Luc watched Earl check out the SUV. The man glanced over his shoulder at him, ignoring or not seeing Rice leaning against the SUV’s front fender.

“Where’re Ted and Crocker?”

Rice used the distraction as an opportunity to grasp Earl’s head and jerk it with the same sharp twist he had used on Ted. “Dead, like you.”

“Fritz said Earl has...had some demon in him. You sure that’s going to kill him?”

“Yeah, but to make sure, I’ll stab through the heart with this.” Rice lifted a curved obsidian blade. “Abyss-made for executions.”

“I’ll join you in a few.” Luc entered in the cabin. Each of the healer’s wrists and ankles were secured to a two-foot log. Earl had followed Brotherhood procedure. Keep hands and legs separated. She wasn’t going anywhere, not without the ability to move and perform her magick.

At a movement beneath her eyelids, his gaze narrowed. He inhaled and froze. Darkness below, she was Fae and could escape her bindings and teleport out of here. Once she disappeared into the ether, they’d never find her again. If Farley sent out another Earl, another family might die and the healer could end up shot and paralyzed per the original plan. Farley had already said he didn’t need her mobile, only her magick intact.

Initially, that statement hadn’t made sense. Now Luc understood.

How he was going to save her was beyond him. He released her bonds, re raised his hands, drawing energy from deep within the Earth, and cocooned her in an invisible, unbreakable web, imprinting it with his family seal.

Surprise filled him at the ease in creating this status. He’d expected resistance. Even if she were unconscious, her magick should have fought his for freedom.

He stared down at her, his eyes narrowed. Something about the woman felt familiar, soul deep, and she...it...whatever, pulled at him. He shook off his response to her and continued with his protection. Once completed, he moved back.

Luc frowned and covered her with a crazy quilt. She now lay curled in a ball. The knock on her head worried him. Her skin was too pale, and her bones too delicate for the abuse Earl had inflicted. At least the stasis field should keep any internal bleeding at bay for a while.

He refused to touch her skin and forced himself to view her as a captive, though he took twice as long as necessary to ensure she suffered no harm. Familiar or not, he had to deliver her. For now, his sigil would keep all others away; keep her from harm. Only he or his death could release her.

CHAPTER 6

“Grab him and let’s go.” Luc headed for the woods.

“How is she?” Rice threw Earl’s body over his shoulder in a fireman hold without so much as a grunt.

“Alive. I’ll help her once we’re back. For now, I’ve released her, but secured her in a stasis field.”

A few minutes later, they strode up to Fritz. “Toss his body there,” Luc ordered. “While we fight, I’ll be Crocker. Fritz can drop his body wherever you drop me. Then we’ll repeat the process with you being Ted. We’ll explain Earl was their partner. I was barely conscious when you took him from behind before he blew me away. Don’t hold back, we need evidence, injuries of a fight to the death.”

“You got it, Druid boy.” Rice unsheathed his knife. “You do remember how Ted loved his knife fights.”

“Shit.” With a wicked grin, Luc clicked the safety off his Sig Sauer. “And I do love my guns, just like Crocker.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Fritz, mark the spot I would’ve stabbed the Druid and where I’d have been shot during our fight. We’ll use their weapons after the fight. All other injuries are—”

“Inflicted with joy,” Luc snarled and launched himself at Rice.

Ten minutes later, Luc pushed off the ground and onto his knees with one palm raised. “Enough. Shit. Ever heard of holding a punch?”

Rice rolled onto his back. “No. Just heard ‘inflicted with joy’, which you did with great enthusiasm. Then I let loose.” With a groan, he curled upright and stood.

Luc grasped his proffered hand and rose to his feet. “You need to stab me with the bastard’s knife.” He sighed. “At least I get to shoot you with Crocker’s gun.”

“Boys, boys, boys, can it. I’ll handle all the additional wounds,” Fritz said.

“Thanks, Ouriel. Wondered how long you were going to let this farce continue,” Rice said.

Luc focused on Fritz’s stiffened posture. “You know this daemon?”

“Maybe. Drop the glamour,” Fritz ordered Rice.

The six-foot-tall, lean bordering on lanky, male, with blue-black hair and brown eyes looked completely human if you ignored his glossy, eland-like, ebony curled horns. That and the leathery brown wings rising above his head, the tips almost brushing the ground.

Fritz stared, his eyes narrowed. “Ahmad Shoredeh?” At Rice’s nod, he scowled. “Did Farley wipe out only your family or the entire Baskuli Clan? Last I heard it numbered over a hundred thousand here on Earth.”

“The clan remains and has once again joined the battle against the Abyss and the Dark Lord. But Farley erased my family. My parents, my wife, my children, and their families. Mustaf and I were gone for the day. Farley drained everyone and burned our homes to the ground.”

He shook his head. “Near as I can tell he put them in some type of force field, immobilizing them.”

Luc swallowed hard as the chill of the memory swept down his spine. “That’s what he did to my parents.” At Rice’s look of sympathy, he glanced away unable to remain stoic under their shared tragedy.

“We’re talking Selma and the kids, gone?” Fritz asked.

“All of them. That’s driven me. Don’t worry, I’ll fight for the Goddess, but Farley’s downfall—” Rice shook his head. “—I should’ve checked in with the new Cáidh Arm.” He shrugged. “Revenge got in the way. With the Abyss rising again and no mate or kids, Mustaf decided to join the party with me.”

Luc turned back, not sure how to gauge Fritz’s ease with the enemy. Or enemy turned comrade-in-arms. Either was a little hard to reconcile. And with each word out of the daemon’s mouth, it seemed more likely Rice really had also known his parents.

Fritz snorted. “Typical. Emotion always has ruled you. Deva could’ve used your help.”

A small smile tweaked the corners of Rice’s mouth. “Hear you and Sabina put a seedling in my brother three months ago. You didn’t need to, you know. We’ve served the Goddess faithfully since before the Great War. You should remember that, Ouriel. The Goddess listed over two legions of our warriors on the walls of the Cave of the Fallen.”

Fritz clapped him on the back. “Church, I mean, Mustaf never said a word, not a hint, and never broke cover. You should be proud.”

Rice grasped his forearm. “I am. I’m also surprised he survived killing that daemon and assuming his identity. Thought for sure you or Sabina would’ve spotted he wasn’t the real Church.”

“Nope, he held his glamour and never wavered. Take it he’s joined the revenge train.”

“Yes and no. I’m out for revenge. He’s out to defeat Carlson and the Dark Lord. Clan warriors and spies will make contact with the Cáidh Arm within the week. I’ll get my revenge first.”

The two clasped one another’s forearm with one hand and shoulder with the other.

Luc’s worldview lay in ruins. The denotation fractured all his preconceived notions. He no longer knew the players, friend from foe, and now understood how a drowning man felt. Yet, it changed nothing. He glanced at his nursemaid. “Are you Ouriel or Fritz?”

The gargoyle shrugged. “In another time, Ouriel. In this life, Fritz.”

Luc glared at the daemon and gargoyle. Once again, he was odd man out and it sucked. It certainly didn’t help that Rice, a daemon—even if he was on their team—knew more about his partner than he did. “Why the change in your name? How did you two become such good buddies?” They glanced at one to another as if trying to figure out how to answer.

“We gargoyles are only ten in number and all male for a reason. We were Grace’s personal bodyguards, Paladins sent to protect her. We disagreed with her desire to usurp the Goddess and were cursed, turned into what you see before you. As long as she lives, we remain in this form.” He motioned down his gray, stone-like body. “Due to the nature of the curse, we cannot hurt or kill Grace. That will be up someone else, in another time and place. I fear the Goddess’ prison won’t hold much longer.”

A tremor of dread shot through Luc. The only thing worse that the world could experience now was if Grace escaped her captivity. Seven months ago, she had been revered as a paragon of purity and the ideal of what the Goddess’ Holy Weapon should be. Since then, the entire supernatural world on Earth and Otherworld had learned the horrific truth. Grace had evolved into a paranoid megalomaniac killer. A racial purist of the worst order, she hated norms and half-breeds as much as she did the Dark Lord and his followers. “Were you Fae—Tuatha De Danaan like Padraig?”

“No.”

“The old man isn’t going to tell you more, not now.” Rice looked up at the sky. “We’re running out of time. It’ll be daylight in a couple hours.”

One look at Rice’s mulish expression and Fritz’s stone face, Luc realized no more info was coming his way. He also had no warning before Crocker’s knife slammed into his abdomen and a report from Ted’s weapon echoed in the night air. Rice collapsed to the ground beside him, bleeding from just under his right shoulder.

“Get the healer to help you. Deva’s summoned me.” Fritz stepped into a portal.

Luc lifted his head off the ground, rolled onto his side, and pushed to his knees. Grabbing a stump, he pulled himself upright. He looked down at Rice, who lay on the ground, his breathing labored. “You coming?”

Blood leaked from the corner of the daemon’s mouth. “I think the son of a bitch winged my lung...collapsed,” he said between gasps.

“Get your glamour up and hold off repairing the damage. We need the healer to fix us up.” Ignoring Rice’s smug grin, he tripped his way from the woods.

Five minutes later, Luc staggered into the cabin and paused under the blue glare of her eyes. Her fury drilled into him through the stasis cocoon. Even under the assault of her anger, every time he looked at her, he softened. She reminded him of the pastel of Allana, soft, sensual, inviting.

But it couldn’t be her. She was in New York or D.C. searching for her daughters Sophie and Kate.

He stumbled toward her, his hand clasped to his oozing wound. “Earl won’t be back. My partner and I took care of him.”

Her eyes widened, her porcelain complexion paled to ash. She licked her lips, her gaze glued to his face.

He moaned and collapsed beside her on the bed. “Blink once for yes if you understand me, twice for no.” She blinked once. “There are two parts to the oath I demand from you.” He reached a hand for her and hesitated, aware his touch would nullify the stasis. “Do you vow to the Goddess, on her good name and all that is holy, you won’t escape if I release you? You’ll heal the knife wound on me and the gunshot on my partner.”

She blinked once.

“Do you also vow that afterwards you won’t flee or teleport away? You’ll stay with me for as long as I need you?”

For a full minute, she stared at him unblinking. Then slowly her eyelids drifted closed and open—once.

He had been certain of her acceptance of the first part. A healer didn’t run from those in need. Why she accepted his final condition left him speechless. She had to realize he would have released her even if she had refused to remain with him. With an unexplainable feeling of satisfaction, he placed his hand on the seal. The stasis field, derived from Earth’s core, returned to its mother.

She crawled across the bed and reached for his battered face.

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his waist. “Only the knife wound. I have to prove there was a battle.” Heat filled him. Warmth touched his soul with a faint reminder of a long ago dream.

Inhaling, his lungs filled easily. Only the dulled aches and pains of a fistfight remained. With a nod, he grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “My partner’s in the woods. His lung’s collapsed, and he’s bleeding internally.”

No way would the asshole die from that minor injury. The damage was insignificant to a daemon of Rice’s age. It was negligible even to a Druid of Luc’s age. While he had broken thirty years and was on the downhill slope to forty, he was considered a babe in the lifespan of his race. His mother’s North African witch heritage only added to his timeline.

“You don’t need to drag me. I swore to the Goddess I won’t leave you.”

Luc froze. She rammed into his freshly healed but tender wound. That voice, the soft, lilting tones. It hadn’t been Deva who had saved him in his dreams and at his weakest points in recent months. His savior stood beside him. The sweet clear voice was the only confirmation his mind and body needed. Darkness below, he had never had such a visceral reaction to a woman. It was bad enough when he had thought his lifeline was Deva or a figment of his imagination, one who haunted his memories. To discover she was real and here almost sent him to his knees.

Pivoting, he grasped for her shoulders, unable to prevent the squeeze of his fingers. “You.”

“Me, what?”

“You visited me in my darkest moments, kept me from doing something very foolish.”