Lost Girl: Hidden Book One (21 page)

“We escort thee,
sister, warrior,
to life everafter.”

They chanted it over and over again, louder. It was beautiful, and frightening. Awe-inspiring.

I saw the moment Veronica’s tether to the mortal world ceased to be. Her body simply winked out of existence, two of the Guardians disappearing with it. The third Guardian paused, then turned to look at me. My heart stilled when her eyes settled on me. She looked me over, then cocked her head to the side. She reminded me of a bird. A deadly, intelligent bird, but a bird nonetheless. She stood like that for several seconds, watching me. Something seemed to satisfy her. She smiled at me, winked, then flapped her wings and took off into the nothingness beyond.

Once she’d left, all was silent and calm. I felt surprise, confusion coming from the beings surrounding me. I looked around to see them all staring at me.

“What?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“She looked at you,” Ada said.

“So?”

Father Balester was looking at me intently, as if trying to see whatever the Guardian had seen in me. “They are above those of us on the mortal plane, in every way. I’ve been doing these ceremonies for almost a thousand years. Never once have I seen a Guardian pay any attention at all to one of us.”

I felt cold. “Well, I’m sure that bodes super well for me, then,” I said.

♦ ♦ ♦

We all went our separate ways shortly after. Brennan, Ada, and Stone headed off together in Nain’s truck. George raced off in his car, alone. Nain and I drove to my house in my car.

We entered the house wordlessly, headed up to my room. One of the great things about being with someone who can read your mind is that it’s very clear to one another what you need. And what we both needed was to be held, to feel safe and not so alone, even if just for a while. I changed into my pajama bottoms and a cami, and he stripped down to his boxers, and we climbed under my bedspread together, locked in each other’s arms.

“Why can’t I cry? I feel like I should cry over her,” I said finally.

Nain’s fingers ran up and down my spine. “You have your own way of dealing with things. You’re not a crier. Nothing wrong with that.” We were quiet again. “You deal with grief by kicking ass.”

“I am going to kill Astaroth,” I promised.

“Yes. You are. And I’m going to help.” I felt that same tension in him whenever we talked about Astaroth. Time to get some answers.

“You know, I get this crazy feeling that there’s something you’re not telling me,” I said.

He was quiet, fingers still trailing up and down my back. I had my face pressed against his chest, feeling his heart beat under my cheek. “There are things I haven’t told you,” he finally said.

“Tell me.”

He was nervous. Regret, anger, sadness coursed through him. Fed me, as always. “Before I changed my ways, I was part of a gang of demons that caused a lot of damage in this area. We killed, destroyed whatever we wanted. We took what we wanted. We vanquished those who stood in our way.” He paused, and I felt shame from him.

“I already knew that,” I reminded him.

“We were not just an unorganized gang. We had a leader.”

“Astaroth,” I guessed.

“Yeah. I joined him, because I was attracted to what his demons were doing. They lived a good life. They were strong, feared. I wanted to be one of them. And I was so fucking good at causing terror. He accepted me, gladly. Before long, I was his right hand demon, his second in command. Whatever Astaroth wanted done, I made sure it happened. I had all the power I could have ever wanted.”

I tried to imagine him working side by side with the vile creature I’d come to hate, and I couldn’t do it. Tried to imagine him planning, plotting with Astaroth.

“But you went a different way, Bael,” I whispered, using his real name. He hugged me tightly.

“Yeah. It was a fight to get away from him once I’d decided I was done. Thing was, I was stronger than him, and he knew it. We fought, over and over again once I’d cut my ties with him. You know how demons are. If I wasn’t with him, then I needed to be destroyed.”

“But he couldn’t do it,” I said, prodding him on. I felt a strange, primal pride in him. He had been unbeatable. My man.

“He couldn’t. And if a demon can’t win by strength, he’ll try to win by lies. He had a witch cast a spell on me to trap me in a mortal body. He knew it would take most of my power away from me. It was a solid plan on his part.”

“Yet, you’re still here,” I said.

He went silent. “We came to an uneasy agreement after a while. Decided to leave each other alone. He stayed out of my way, and I stayed out of his.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “He had what he wanted. You were weak. Everything I know about Astaroth tells me he wouldn’t have hesitated to go in for the kill.”

He paused, and I felt irritation coming from him. Regret. “I’m sure he had his reasons,” he finally said.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, exasperated.

“It means, that’s all I can tell you about it,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

I sighed. Damn stubborn demon. “What?”

“Us.” Nervous.

“What about us?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I know. I love you, too. Even if you’re a stubborn ass,” I said.

I felt him shake a little as he laughed. “And you’re a real sweetheart yourself, baby.” He was quiet a minute. “I love you,” he repeated. “You’re the only one for me, ever.”

I held my breath. He wasn’t going to…?

“Demons don’t really get married. Not like Normals do, anyway. When we decide to give our bodies and souls to another, we exchange blood, a way of tying us to one another.”

I looked up at him. “What does it do?”

“You know how you can sense emotions?” I nodded. “Once we exchange blood, we’ll always know how the other is feeling. If one of us should happen to die, the other would know it. If you were in pain, I’d feel it, too.”

“Bael,” I whispered, staring at him.

“So it’s not without its risks. If we do this, and we lose each other for some reason, the one who’s left behind is going to do more than mourn. They’re going to feel like part of their soul has been torn away. Because it has.” Guilt from him.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“You felt guilty about something.”

“Damn it, woman.”

“Explain.”

“I feel guilty about asking you to do something we shouldn’t do. We are both on the fast track to the everafter, the way we keep going after the bad guys. Doing this sentences whoever is left to a lifetime of pain. I feel like an asshole for even asking, but I want to feel this connection with you, for however long I can. I’m a selfish bastard.”

I reached up and stroked his cheek, felt rough stubble against my palm. “I’d feel a lifetime of pain if I ever lost you, either way. How do we do this?”

He met my eyes, sat up. He sat in the middle of my bed, and sat me on his lap, facing him. He reached down, into the pocket of his pants next to the bed, and pulled a strip of black cloth and a small box out, placed it on the bed next to us.

“Where’s your knife?” he asked.

“Nightstand drawer,” I said. He reached over and grabbed the pearl-handled switchblade out of the drawer.

He sliced his wrist, and I sliced mine. We pressed our bleeding wrists together, then worked together to bind our wounds, our wrists, together with the strip of black cloth. Then we sat, bound together. My eyes never left his.

I felt the moment his blood entered my body.

“Whoa,” I breathed. He let out a contented, satisfied sigh. Peace came to me through our connection, happiness. I could feel his blood, alive and flowing through my veins, pumping through my heart. It was like having him with me, intimately and completely.

“Oh my god,” I murmured. He let out a small groan as he felt my blood start to course through his body. His breathing escalated, and I could feel his pulse start racing. Mine did the same. “You’re so beautiful, Molly,” he said. Then he kissed me, softly, tenderly.

When we finally parted, he unwrapped our wrists. Both cuts had healed. His blood was sealed inside my body; mine in his. Then he smiled at me and opened the box. He slid a simple hematite band onto my ring finger, then I did the same to him. Our concession to the traditions of the Normal world. A visible sign of our devotion to one another.

“Now, you’re officially mine,” he said, closing in for another kiss.

“Already was,” I whispered just before his mouth met mine.
Always
, I thought at him. And it was the last rational thought I had as we began to comfort each other as only we could.

Chapter Thirteen

I dropped Nain off at the loft the next morning, and went off on my own despite his irritation and worry over it. I’d taken a few vacation days from my “real” job, and now wondered if I would go back at all. I had a decent amount of money saved up. If things got rough, I could sell the Barracuda. Between my own work finding lost girls and the increased amount of work I was doing with the team due to Astaroth, I could barely face heading into the office any more.

Astaroth. I parked the car near an abandoned church not too far from downtown, got out, and leaned against the driver’s side door. I summoned Bashiok and Dahael. I'd realized over the past several weeks that all I really had to do when I wanted them was think their names, and they’d show up pretty quickly. I kept meaning to ask them how they got places as fast as they did, but there never seemed to be any time.

Later.

A few minutes passed, then I saw their squat figures coming toward me. They both bowed when they reached me.

“How did the delivery go last night?”

“Delivered the package to address demon skin gave us. Left it on the doorstep as Mistress said. We stayed, watched.”

“And?”

“Demons took it inside. Later, big boom from inside building,” Bashiok said.

Dahael giggled. “Bad demon not happy,” she said.

“Good. So does it seem like that is his base?”

Bashiok shook his head. “Meeting place. Other demons lived there, not old Master.”

“And you can’t tell me where he lives?”

Dahael answered. “Don’t even know anymore. Not same place he lived before.”

“Demon moves a lot,” Bashiok added.

“Afraid of Mistress and demon skin,” Dahael said, nodding.

“Shouldn’t you not be able to say that?” I asked, looking at her.

“Mistress knew it already,” she said.

I nodded. I hated this enchantment on the imps. My life would have been so much easier if they could just tell me everything they knew. But I also knew that the enchantment kept my friends and I safe, and it safeguarded the imps’ lives, as well.

I took a breath, tried to fight back the exhaustion and general feeling that all I wanted to do was hide under my blankets and wait for the storm to pass. “I need to figure out how to do this,” I said to them.

“Mistress is not alone. Has team. Has demon skin.”

“I don’t want anyone else to die because of Astaroth,” I said.

Dahael walked closer to me, pulled gently on my pant leg. “Don’t blame yourself. Mistress can’t control everything, no matter how powerful.”

I took another deep breath, looked past the imps at the brick church behind them.

Bashiok cleared his throat. “Mistress. More news.”

I crouched down, better able to look at him. I hated standing above the imps, looking down on them. “What is it?”

“Traitor on demon skin’s team.”

A chill went down my spine. I knew what he would say before he said it. “Invisible man.”

“George,” I said, shaking my head.

Bashiok and Dahael nodded. Dahael patted my shoulder.

“For how long?”

“Don’t know. But he was at the demon house last night. Heard him talking to demons about you and demon skin.”

I sighed. “Crap.” I crouched there a moment longer, savoring the momentary calm. Late morning near downtown meant lots of traffic noises and not much else. A symphony of engines, car stereos, and horns. Life went on around us, no matter who died, no matter who betrayed you. Life went on, unknowing, blissfully unaware that nothing more than a reformed demon and a confused mindflayer stood between them and living nightmares that would come to devour them in their sleep.

What would it be like, to feel that way? To go about your everyday life not knowing about the real dangers that existed? So many in this city really struggled with basic life or death things like keeping food on the table, keeping their families safe and whole. They knew dangers. They knew hopelessness. But so many others worried about nothing more than the next new thing, the candy-coated artifice of life.

Those would be the ones most easily targeted by Astaroth and his pals if Nain and I failed. The shifters had made it clear: Astaroth had promised them more. No hiding. No cowering. All they had to do was destroy me.

I would have laughed at the idea that screwed up, antisocial little me was keeping anyone from doing anything, if I wasn’t so terrified of messing this up.

There was so much more to the story than this. It didn’t make sense. Astaroth could have made his move any time before I came on the scene. Nain had been cursed, losing his demonic form in the late 1970s. I wasn’t even born until 1987, didn’t discover most of my powers until a few months ago, when I’d met Nain. So why now? Why was it so vital for Astaroth to take me out now?