Torn (18 page)

Shit.
That blade was mine now, and I snatched at it, kicking as the two demons tried to pull me back by the legs. My fingers brushed the hilt and then,
yes
, I had it.

I twisted at the waist and thrust myself up, leading with the blade. And not a moment too soon. Tweedledum had been only inches away, his own blade falling harmlessly to the ground as my knife sliced through his neck, and the demon dissolved into disgusting black goo.

There was no celebration for me, though, because as my blade was outstretched, Tweedledee had come up from behind, and now he had his knife at my throat. “Headless,” he said. “I think it’s fucking beautiful.”

To my complete mortification, I actually whimpered, then closed my eyes, trapped, and knowing that I’d lost. For the world, for myself, and for Rose.

I waited for the pain, then for the awareness that came from being broken but alive.

It didn’t come. Instead, the knife jerked sharply, cutting me, but not killing me. And then I felt the demon behind me turn to goo, and the slime dribble down my back to puddle on the floor behind me.

I whipped around to find Deacon standing in the kitchen doorway. He’d thrown his knife, and he’d thrown it true.

“Deacon,” I said. And I rushed him. My body was humming from the kill as much as from fear. From the knowledge that I’d almost fallen into my worst nightmare, and by the need—desperate and demanding—to hold on right then to the man who embodied my most ardent fantasy.

He met me halfway, understanding what I craved, what I needed. His mouth was hot against mine, and I drew him in, our tongues doing battle as our bodies slammed together. He was all heat and muscle, all danger and dark, and I had to have him. So help me, I had to let the dark take me. Had to let desire rule me, and I pressed him back, farther and farther until there was nowhere else to go.

“More,” I demanded, and he complied without complaint, his mouth deepening the kiss, his hands hard on me. On my hips, on my waist. On my breasts.

The tank top was flimsy, and he yanked it up, then shoved my bra down, giving him access to my breasts. I arched my back and moaned, the pleasure that shot through me absolutely exhilarating, and completely overshadowing the slow, burning ache that had begun in my arm. I had no idea why my arm had decided to go on active duty, and right then I didn’t care. I was content to ignore it.

I wasn’t about pain right then; I was about pleasure. Pleasure and heat and complete satisfaction, and the way that Deacon was touching me wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed
all
.

Desperate, I fumbled with the button on his jeans, and when I couldn’t manage that, I fumbled with my own, then wriggled out of them until I was standing there in the lacy pink panties that Alice favored and I hadn’t had time to replace.

Deacon’s hand dipped down, his fingers following smooth skin, then easing slowly, so slowly under the waistband of the panties. He teased me, his finger dipping down, finding me wet, then making me whimper as he refused to touch me the way he knew that I wanted.

I grabbed the belt loops of his pants and urged his hips forward. “Dammit, Deacon,” I said. “Now.”

And this time, when I fumbled with his button, I actually managed to make progress, and before I knew it, our jeans were on the floor, and we were on the couch in front of the fireplace. The leather couch with cloven feet.

“Lily,” he said, as though my name were both a prayer and a curse.

“Don’t wait,” I begged. “Don’t wait; don’t stop.”

I was breathing hard, my body on fire, lust running through me like a wild beast. And when Deacon thrust inside me, I rose up, desperate to meet him, to match him. To take him over the edge with me.

We moved together, hard and demanding, as if we’d both just discovered something we couldn’t get enough of. And as the pressure built and built, I clung to him, pulling him closer, this man who I had come to need so desperately. This man I barely knew.

His body shuddered against mine, and he cried out in pleasure, sending me right over the edge with him. I collapsed against him, sated, and breathed in deep of the musky scent of sweat and sex. Of
us
.

He had claimed me and, so help me, I’d claimed him, too.

When I could breathe again, I rolled over, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. I had my hand pressed to his chest, and I smiled at his face.

He smiled back, and our eyes locked.

And, yeah, that was a big mistake.

The vision snapped, and I jerked as it sucked me in. I had a glimpse of the darkness. A sensation of fear, then the cold press of the pub floor against my cheek.

I sat up, rubbing the side of my face, realizing as I did that Deacon had actually thrown me off him rather than let me look deep inside.

I crossed the pub to grab my jeans and started stuffing my legs back into them. Suddenly I didn’t feel nearly as warm and languid. Now I felt irritated. And not even at Deacon. At myself.

“Lily.”

“Don’t.” I held up a hand. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Unless my memory is faulty, I think we both did that.”

I rounded on him. “Dammit, Deacon, I don’t need this. This thing,” I said, gesturing between us. “I can’t fight it—I don’t even want to fight it—but I’m goddamned terrified of it.”

“Why?”

I stared at him. “You know why.”

“You can trust me, Lily.”

“No,” I said. “How about this—
you
can trust
me
. Let me in, Deacon. You think your reality can be any worse than my imagination? Or is there something in there you really don’t want me to know?” I took a step closer, and the heat between us arced like electricity. “Like the reason no one seems to want you dead.”

“They don’t want me dead? Or they don’t want to risk trying to kill me?” He cupped the back of my neck with his head. “I’ve destroyed more than you ever will, Lily. I could destroy you right now if I wanted to. No, don’t argue. You know I’m right.”

I did know, and the knowledge scared me. But, dammit, it also excited me.

“Do you think the other demons will take me on lightly?” I shook my head, not knowing what to believe anymore.

“I want you, Lily. I want you, and I need you.” He tilted my chin up. “You know what we can accomplish together. Work with me.”

“I’m not sacrificing Rose.”

“I know.” He stepped away, his back to me. “There’s a way to save her.”

“Move her soul out into another body?”

He turned around, and I shrugged.

“I have sources, too. And I don’t like that solution. I’m not killing so that Rose can live. Not, unless I’m sure I have to.” It was, I realized, the first time I’d voiced the truth about the matter. And while a part of me hated that I could do that—that I could take an innocent life to use as a shell for my sister—another part of me was relieved to know that possibility was out there. A solution, dangling out for me to take if I was desperate enough.

Whether I would ever be desperate enough to do to an innocent what Clarence and company did to me . . . That, I didn’t know.

“There may be another way,” Deacon said, gaining my instant attention. “It’s risky, but . . .”

“What?”

“The Vessel of the Keeper.”

“The what?”

“It has a fancier name,” Deacon said, “but the translation describes it best.”

“What is it?”

“A vessel,” he said. “Like a pot or a jar. I don’t know exactly. I’ve never seen it.”

“And?” I prompted, though I really didn’t need to prompt. I had a feeling I knew what this vessel did. It held souls. And Deacon was going to suggest that it hold Rose’s.

“Only until we can find a suitable body,” he said, after he’d explained exactly that.

I shook my head. “No. No way.”

“Why not? It’s a perfect solution. Move her out. Destroy her body. And with any luck, destroy Johnson along with her.”

“How? How do you move her out?”

He turned away from me. “I can handle that.”

“Explain.”

I watched his shoulders straighten before he turned back around. “I can send my essence into the body. I can push Rose out.”

“And Johnson? He’s just going to put up with that?”

“He may fight to stay. He may jump out.”

“Out?” I repeated. “Where would he go?” A horrible thought occurred to me. “Oh, God. What if he went into your body?”

A small smiled danced at Deacon’s mouth. “I’m glad to see the possibility mortifies you as much as me. But no. I have ways of protecting my body when I’m not in it.”

“Oh.” I pondered the idea some more, thinking about what would happen to Rose. “So she lives in a pot like some creature out of an old
Star Trek
episode?” That really wasn’t sounding appealing to me.

“We find a body,” Deacon said patiently.

“I’m not killing an innocent to provide for my sister.”

He pointed to the oily stains on the floor. “What would have happened if you’d killed with a different knife?”

“The bodies would still be there,” I said slowly. “Empty. Just, dead.”

“Exactly.”

I shook my head, the idea creeping me out. “She wouldn’t be herself anymore.”

“Are you still yourself?”

I frowned, because I honestly wasn’t sure of the answer.

He cupped my chin. “Lily, he’s killing her body anyway. She’s running out of time. And so is the world. I need you with me, looking for the key. And you need Rose free of Johnson. This is the way, Lily. It’s the only way.”

“But a demon body . . .” I protested.

“It’s not about the body. It’s about the essence. You know that, Lily. You of all people know that.”

He was right. I did. I didn’t like it, but I knew it.

“All right,” I finally said. “Where is it?”

He frowned. “Well, that’s the problem. I don’t know. I’ve been doing research, but I haven’t located it yet.”

It was my turn to frown. “Not exactly helpful.”

He traced his fingers lazily up and down my arm. “Too bad we don’t have access to a map that can find lost objects.”

I lifted my brow. “Great idea. I’ll just ask Clarence to tell me how to figure out the incantation for conjuring a portal.”

He aimed a significant look at me. “You don’t have to ask.”

I took an involuntary step backward. “No way. You want me in his head? I don’t have any control. He’d know I was in there. Shit, Deacon. I’d have to kill him.”

“If it gets Rose free, isn’t it worth it? And if you kill him, you’ll have his essence.
You’ll
be an Incan tor, Lily.”

I bit my lower lip, weighing my options. Weighing the risk. Because as tempting as the plan was, unless I was certain it would work, I couldn’t risk my sister.

On the floor, the stains from the two demons seemed to call out to me, reminding me of the danger of the world I lived in. I toed them, looking up at Deacon and deliberately changing the subject. “Why do they want me dead? All these demons. If they know I’m looking for the
Oris Clef
, shouldn’t they be cheering me on from the sidelines?”

“Depends on the demon,” he said casually. “The portal’s open, so Armageddon is coming, and most of the demons are happy with the status quo. They don’t want any one demon to have the
Oris Clef
. They don’t want a demon king in the ranks.”

I nodded. I hadn’t considered that before.

“Others do want the power. They’re not trying to kill you, but to capture you.”

“But I’m no good without Clarence’s incantations.”

Deacon shrugged. “Maybe they don’t know that.”

“At least that explains the tattoo-faced demon. The one we ran into in China,” I said, in response to Deacon’s questioning look. “That was the second time I’ve met up with him, and I’m still alive.”

Deacon was looking at me with the strangest expression.

“What?”

“You don’t know who he is?”

“Why would I?” I asked, completely baffled. “He didn’t stop to introduce himself.”

“That was Gabriel, Lily. The archangel.”

NINETEEN

“Wait,”I said, completely freaking out. “An
angel
wants me dead?” I was doing all this fighting for good, and a freaking
angel
wanted me dead? What was wrong with that picture?

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Deacon said, after I’d kicked one of the barstools so hard it went careening across the room.

“Was Johnson right?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Have I really sworn fealty to the demon side?”

“You haven’t,” Deacon said, putting his arms around me. “No more than I have.”

I twisted back to look at him, because once upon a time, that was where his loyalty had lain.

“I renounced,” he said, his voice harsh. “Believe me or don’t, but I swear it’s the truth. I renounced the dark, and still I was pushed away from the light.”

I believed him. For better or for worse, I trusted Deacon. I could admit that finally, as he held me tight in his arms. I
did
trust him. But I still wanted inside his head. I wanted proof that my trust wasn’t once again misplaced.

“I know angels aren’t all white gowns and halos and harps,” I said, “but warrior tats really weren’t what I was expecting.”

“But that’s what he is,” Deacon said. “A warrior.”

“Then why does he want me? He could have killed me a half dozen times over—I’m certain of it. But I’m alive. And yet he still keeps coming. So what does he want with me?”

Deacon shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, I’m trying to do good. Doesn’t God know that I’m trying to do good? Didn’t he tell his angels?”

Deacon’s mouth twitched. “I’m not sure heaven is run on a memo system.”

“Well, why doesn’t he just freaking ask me what I’m up to?”

“Lily,” Deacon said, squeezing my hand, “I don’t know. But I don’t think that a sit-down is Gabriel’s typical modus operandi.”