“Oh.” I hadn’t considered that maybe the pieces were basically buried treasure. “But if they are guarded, then aren’t we on the same side as the guards? We’re all the good guys, right? Trying to keep the pieces away from the demons?”
Uncertainty played over the lying little frog’s face. Then it cleared, and he sucked in a breath, going, “Ohhhhh. I see your confusion.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, wanting so badly to tell him that I knew the truth that my stomach hurt. I wanted to scream at him. Instead, I said, “Confusion?”
“If they exist, those who guard the pieces will be neither good nor bad, neither friend nor foe.”
“Huh?”
“They have one purpose only,” Clarence said, “and that’s to keep the pieces safe. Warriors,” he said, “who would not give up the pieces even to the Archangel Gabriel himself.”
I hated the fact that I didn’t know if he was telling me the truth. Because what he said sounded perfectly reasonable. “But then why are we even going after them? Won’t these warriors keep the pieces out of the demons’ hands?”
“With the approach of the convergence, the demon population is desperate. Many will be willing now to try anything to obtain the
Oris Clef
and the power it wields. Their assault will be brutal and deadly, and if the relic is there, the demons will find it, warrior guards or not. Make no mistake, Lily, either as to the extent to which the demons will go or to the breadth of their power.” He drew in a breath. “The only way to protect the pieces is to take them. Take them, and destroy them.”
I knew damn good and well that he had no intention of destroying them, and his smarmy “beat the demons” attitude made me want to gag. At the same time, it occurred to me that Kokbiel and Penemue probably weren’t the only ones looking. Surely there were other big-shot demons looking to be king of the universe. An inconvenient fact that still brought a smile to my face. Bring them on. The more I killed, the more powerful I’d become.
Except how did those demons know where to look? The question turned my smile to a frown, and I posed my question to my demonic froggy handler. “I mean, they don’t have my arm,” I said in conclusion. “So what are the demons using to find the relics of the key?”
“You,” he said. “The demons will seek out you.”
I swallowed. I was strong—and getting stronger—and I had that nice immortality thing going for me. But that didn’t mean I was invincible, or impervious to pain. And being immortal didn’t mean I couldn’t lose. It only meant that if I did lose, I’d have a long, long, long time to think about it.
Not that I intended to show any fear or doubt in front of Clarence. Instead, I shot him my best haughty look. “I’m ready.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “But we’re not taking any chances. You’re too important,” he added. “That’s why you’re not doing this solo. Lily, my girl,” he said, his eyes bulging with pleasure, “from here on out, I’m teaming you up with a partner.”
SEVEN
“A partner,” I raged, bursting into the cheap motel room. “I can’t pull this off with a partner watching my every move.”
Deacon and Rose both looked up at me, his face hard behind dark glasses, hers soft and worried.
I focused on Deacon. “You’re here.” I’d expected him to be gone. I’d expected to walk into a room with a mouthless Johnson and my possessed sister.
As pissed as I’d been at him, I have to admit I was a little relieved. “Is she—”
“Normal,” he said. “Right now, anyway. Hasn’t said a word, but she’s awake. Alert. And I haven’t seen a hint of our friend since you left.”
I snorted. “ ‘Friend.’ Yeah, right. Yours maybe.” And though it was a joke, I was certain I saw Deacon flinch.
On the bed, Rose shifted. “Lily?”
I rushed to my sister and pressed my hands to her cheeks. I almost looked into her eyes, but at the last moment remembered and shifted my focus, staring instead at the pattern of six freckles on the curve of her nose. For a second, I considered going for it—peeking inside her mind. But I feared that if Lucas was in there, he would share the vision. Might even be able to get a grip on me mentally. I didn’t know if that was an ability the demon bastard had, but I did know it wasn’t a risk I was prepared to take. I was sickened enough that he’d gotten his hooks into Rose. No way was he getting them into me, too.
“Lily, what’s going on? What’s wrong with me? What did he do to me? I can feel him, in there, in me, and it’s . . .” She trailed off into sobs, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do except hold her and pat her and promise it would be okay.
I’d made promises to Rose before. Promises I hadn’t been able to keep. About this, though, I was determined.
“Where is he?” I asked. “Is he listening? Is he inside, watching it all? Laughing at us?”
“He’s dormant,” Deacon said. “And there’s no way to know if he hears.”
I squeezed my sister tighter, determined not to treat her differently. Determined not to think about the fact that when I was touching her, I was touching Lucas Johnson.
As she pressed her face against my shoulder, I looked up at Deacon, suddenly realizing who we were missing from our little party. “Where’s the rest of him?”
“Gone,” Deacon said, his expression as dark as his tone.
“Are you insane? You let him go?”
He pulled off his glasses, and for the first time I saw the dark bruise rising over his left eye. “
I
didn’t.” He shifted his steely gaze from me to Rose, and as he did, my stomach did a complicated acrobatic move as I realized that Rose—or rather Johnson—had freed the mouthless body.
“Out of respect for you, Lily, I didn’t hurt her body. But rein in your new pet, because if that prick touches me again, I swear I will tear through the body to get to the beast inside.”
I shivered, because I believed him. I even sympathized with him. But if he touched a hair on Rose’s head, I knew that I would end him.
Impasse, much?
I blew out a noisy breath, then pressed a kiss to Rose’s forehead before getting up and pacing. Because I had to move. I couldn’t think if I didn’t move, and right then I really needed to think.
“I’m serious,” I said, deciding the only way to deal with Deacon’s threats against my sister’s body was to push them aside and hope we never got that far. “It’s one thing for me to play double agent if I’m working by myself. I can pretend to lose a battle. I can wing it. I can somehow figure out a way to keep my cover without killing the good guys.”
“You can’t do that with a partner.”
“I know.” Even though Clarence had assured me that those guarding the relics would be neither good nor bad, I didn’t believe him. Why would he tell me the truth about this one thing when everything else had been a lie?
I couldn’t think of a single reason, and that suggested to me that my suspicions were true: The guards were innocents, and I was meant to kill them.
Collateral damage,
I thought, my stomach twisting at the words. Wasn’t that what Deacon had called Rose? Collateral damage.
She wasn’t, however, collateral to me.
I’d killed before to keep her safe. I could do it again.
“I’ll make it work,” I said aloud. “I’ll figure out a way not to kill.” Or I’d try. But if push came to shove, I was doing whatever it took to stay alive. To get the
Oris Clef
.
To get back my sister.
“Dammit, Lily . . .”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s worth it.”
His eyes cut to Rose, and I could see the frustration envelop him like a dark cloud. “Rose can’t be your first priority,” he said. “Not now. Not anymore.”
“You know what, Deacon,” I said, moving to stand in front of him. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your visions and your redemption. You think you’re the only one who’s been to hell? I’m living here, every single day. I’ve got demons breathing down my neck, pulling my strings like a puppet. First Clarence, then Johnson, and now you. It’s my decision, dammit. Mine.”
“Then make the right one.”
I lifted my hand to slap him, for no particular reason other than that I needed to blow off steam.
He caught my wrist and held it, and damned if he didn’t look me right in the eyes. I felt the pull of the vision, my breath ripping out of me from the force of it. And then, just as the vision was about to suck me in, I heard Deacon’s harsh, “No,” then felt the shock of his mouth closing over mine.
He took me—claimed me—the intimacy overwhelming despite the fact that we touched nowhere except lips and hands and wrists. His mouth was heat and male and delicious sin, and I wanted to drown in it. Wanted to forget the freak show that was my life.
Wanted to forget that my sister—and a demonic invader—was sitting not five feet away, watching with slack-jawed wonder.
I jerked my head, breaking the kiss, my eyes finding Rose, who was, as I’d imagined, staring in our direction, her expression a mixture of awe and longing.
I drew in ragged gasps of air as I faced Deacon, my head shaking. “I can’t do it,” I said. “I can’t do what you want. You prove to me the lock’s really out there, and I’ll consider it. You figure out a way to get Lucas out of Rose, and I’m totally open to other game plans. But until then, I’m working this gig. Until then, I’m protecting my sister.”
“This is about more than your sister.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I can’t save the world. I tried that once, and I failed. But I can save Rose, and I’m not going to walk away from that.”
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “You’ve made your decision.”
“I have.”
“And I’ve made mine.” He put the glasses on and took a step toward the door.
I hurried toward him. “What are you doing?”
“I told you,” he said. “I’m not standing around and watching you do this. You want to play welcoming committee for the Apocalypse, you do it by yourself.”
He paused in the open threshold, his body silhouetted by the afternoon sun, the light making him look like exactly the kind of angelic helper I needed.
Too bad he was just the opposite.
“I do have one idea,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Rose, and my heart lightened just a bit.
“An idea?”
“Maybe. It’s risky. But maybe . . .” He trailed off with a shake of his head, then stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Wait!” I hurried forward. “That’s it? You’re leaving?” My heart twisted at the thought. I might not completely trust him, but I wanted him around. And not just because Deacon Camphire had gotten under my skin. I wanted him watching my back, and it irked me that that wasn’t going to happen. “You’re really walking out on me?”
His smile was grim. “I’ll be around, Lily.” He shot a quick glance toward Rose. “There’s no way I’m letting Kokbiel get his hands on that key. So I’ll be back. But you may not be happy to see me.”
EIGHT
Isped through the late-afternoon traffic on my vintage Triumph Tiger, Rose’s arms around my waist and her face pressed tight against my back. There was fear in her grip, and so help me, I was glad. Glad to be scaring my little sister by going too fast on the motorcycle she’d never liked and had always refused to ride.
Because so long as she was scared, she wasn’t Johnson. And so long as she wasn’t Johnson, her touch didn’t nauseate me.
“What are we doing, Lily?” she asked, as I idled at a red light.
“Alice,” I said. “You have to call me Alice. And I told you. I have to make things right with Joe.”
“Oh. Right. I remember.” But her words were fuzzy, as if she was picking over complicated memories. I fought the urge to ditch the bike, pull her into my arms, and promise her that I’d get things back to normal. I couldn’t, though. That was all I’d ever done—make promises. Now I had to act on them.
I reached our shabby neighborhood of run-down clap-board houses with neglected lawns and beer-can yard ornaments. Once upon a time, our house had been tended, our mother making sure the paint was crisp and clean and the plants watered and blooming. A comfy swing with plumped-up pillows once dominated the front yard only a few yards away from a neatly printed sign that announced,
The Carlyle Residence—Welcome!
Now the sign was weathered and nearly unreadable, and the swing was stained with rust, the cushions dotted with mildew. The place felt dull and lifeless, and for the first time I was truly happy to have a new life. A new home. Even a new me.
I killed the bike’s engine. “Come on,” I said to Rose.
She dragged her teeth over her lower lip. She was nervous. She was Rose. And I couldn’t be happier about that.
As we walked toward the front door, I wondered vaguely why Johnson had retreated. Had I done something to make him pull back? Could I do it again on purpose?
Not that I had much time to ponder these inscrutable questions. Our house is not a mansion, the approaching sidewalk not a private drive, and we had reached the porch in six long strides. “Will he be home?” I asked, for the first time remembering that Joe had a job. An easy thing to forget considering that, after my mother had died, he’d spent more time on the couch than he had framing houses and installing drywall.
Rose shrugged. “Usually is, ’specially since you died.” Her forehead creased at that, but she didn’t look too freaked.
I grimaced, guilty once again. My decision to go out and kill Johnson that night had affected more than just my life. I’d been selfish, and now I was paying the price. Big-time.
We climbed the steps, and I rapped hard on the door with my left hand. My right hand was otherwise occupied, as Rose had snaked her fingers through mine and was squeezing tight. I understood why; she wanted this. Wanted to leave with me even as much as I wanted her by my side.
Joe hadn’t always been a shit—when he’d married my mom, he was actually kind of cool. I remember him giving me piggyback rides and taking me and Mom for long rides in his convertible.