The Demon Creed (A Demon Outlaws Novel) (Entangled Edge) (12 page)

She was a few years older than Ash. Bare-legged, skinny, and dirty, with curly, nut-brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed yet today, she’d nestled into a crack in the crumbly red cliffs.

Ash crept up beside her, getting as close as he dared before he allowed her to see him. She didn’t cry out, or move, or make any sudden noise or disturbance that might attract unwanted attention, but her eyes widened at his abrupt appearance.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “The boundary isn’t safe.”

Normally, Ash didn’t let people know he could talk. Grownups asked too many questions that he didn’t always think he should answer. He had something this girl needed to know though, and he wanted something from her in return.

“Demons can’t see me,” he said. “They have a hard time seeing you, too. But they won’t if they find out our names, so we need to be careful. We can’t say them out loud. If a demon has our name, and we owe it a favor, we won’t be safe from it. Not here, and not even in the mortal world. Because you and I can cross here on our own, if it calls for us by name, we can be summoned.”

The girl cupped her bony elbows in her hands and shrank farther back into the crevice. “I don’t want to be summoned. I hate this place.”

“You don’t have to be afraid. Your demon protects you. You’re safe enough here if you’re careful,” Ash added. He didn’t want her to feel bad, or to be scared. “If you hate it so much, why do you come?”

“I’m supposed to find someone.”

Ash already knew who, and that it had to be done. It was important that his mother get to the Borderlands. Airie couldn’t travel because of the baby, and Hunter wouldn’t travel without her. And Airie needed to be with Ash’s mother if everything was going to turn out as it should.

It was also important that others like this girl find out they had nice people to turn to who weren’t like the mean woman who used them.

“I’m here to help you,” Ash said. “You’ll find the woman you’re looking for with no trouble at all once you know who she’s with.”

…

Stone wandered into camp shortly after darkness fell.

The younger children were bathed and already in bed. Thistle had found two scorpions to play with, and amused herself by using her demon talent to force them to fight each other. Imp hadn’t yet returned from the boundary.

Willow, bent over a washbasin, scrubbed the last of the mud from the heavy rain off the children’s clothing. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing thick black hair out of her eyes as she tracked Stone’s approach across the flat clearing.

He dropped a small canvas sack with a drawstring neck on the ground beside her.

She ignored the sack. “Where have you been?”

“Running some errands in Desert’s End.”

“You were asked to look after the children.”

“Those scary little beasts?” Stone made a noise of disgust as he gestured in the direction of their sleeping forms. “They’ve looked after themselves for so long, they’re like animals. I can’t sleep when you aren’t here to keep them leashed.”

Willow did not argue the matter with him. She knew the children were wild. But they were hers and she loved them. Stone, however, she did not like at all. She needed him.

“All the more reason not to leave them unsupervised,” she said. “It’s taken a long time for them to become used to being around their own kind. They need an adult with them to see that they follow a routine, and make them feel secure. You have to earn their trust. If you can’t do that, then maybe you should go try and steal another mining claim from mortals.”

She threw the taunt in his face to see how he would react to it. If he wanted to be part of the future she was building for them, then he would have to respect leadership. But she wondered how well might fare in a fight against the half demon assassin. If he beat him, it was possible he could also defeat the Demon Slayer.

If he lost, then she’d know for certain that he would have been of no use to her anyway.

Stone nudged the sack with his toe. It jingled. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in what I found out in Desert’s End?” he asked. “I spent some time in one of the saloons. You pick up all kinds of things in places like that.”

She was interested, all the more so because a saloon was one of the businesses she dared not enter and he knew it. His ability to do so gave him a level of superiority over her that chafed, but she set her irritation aside because she did want to know what he had discovered.

She emptied the basin of dirty water onto the ground. “Tell me.”

“There’s a woman looking for slave traders.” His expression grew sly. “It seems they come every year at this time, and they’re overdue.”

“A woman was looking for slavers? In a saloon?” Willow wondered if the woman was half demon, for her to be so bold.

“Quite the fight broke out, too.” Stone grinned in remembrance. The lightening of his expression reminded Willow that really, despite his arrogance, he was no more than a boy. “An assassin came to her rescue. A big man. Bald.”

Willow forgot her annoyance. “Did he have any tattoos?”

Stone crinkled his brow as if trying hard to recall and seemed surprised that he could not find an answer. “I’m not sure about that. But there was no doubt he was spawn. I saw him again, just a few hours ago, down the trail. He’s got the woman from the saloon with him. That’s not even the best part,” he added. “Some bandits took a few shots at him. I watched him shift to demon form and tear one of them into pieces.”

The shifting surprised her. The news that the assassin now had a woman with him, however—one who was looking for slavers—gave her greater pause.

And made her very curious.

Willow gathered up the sopping mound of laundered clothing. Fortunately, it wouldn’t take long for it to dry in the desert air. They’d have to go into hiding until the assassin passed them. As much as she’d like to, to see what might happen, she did not dare try to use Stone against him until she knew the full extent of the assassin’s talents.

Imp materialized from out of nowhere. One second, the space at Willow’s elbow was empty. The next, Imp stood in it as if she’d been beside Willow all along.

Stone stumbled back a few steps and swore at the girl. “Quit doing that, you little—”

“What luck did you have?” Willow asked Imp, interrupting Stone. As she did, she inserted herself between them, placing her back to him and her attention on the little girl, telling him without words who she found more important.

“I know where to find the woman you’re looking for,” Imp said. Her fingers worried the frayed seams of her skirt. She bit her bottom lip. “I mean, I know who she’s with. A big bald man, with a tattoo on his back.”

Willow absorbed the information, processing it so as to understand what it meant. The woman the demon hunted for was the same one with the half demon assassin, and she was looking for slavers.

Willow’s curiosity grew.

They’d hide until the assassin passed them, as she’d planned. But then, Willow thought she might follow him for a bit to see where he was headed.

Chapter Eight

For the better part of a week, they skirted the edges of the desert, staying close to the towns at the base of the Godseeker Mountains.

It was enough for Nieve that, at every place they stopped, Creed made inquiries as to the whereabouts of her son. Even though he had learned nothing, she could forgive him anything for that simple act of kindness. It kept her hope alive when she might otherwise have sunk into despair.

Creed also seemed genuinely concerned for her comfort, and went out of his way to see to it. Twice, they stayed in hotels and slept in real beds. At first Nieve had remained suspicious of his motives, wondering if she would have to repay him somehow. She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d kissed her, as if he believed she belonged to him.

Or the way she’d responded, without any resistance at all.

After a few days, she began to entertain the possibility that his kind thoughtfulness was genuine, and simply another facet of his already complicated personality. There was a simplicity to him that often lulled her into a reluctant sense of security.

Yet there was mercilessness in him, too. They had not spoken further of the attempted robbery or what had happened to the thieves. While he seemed in complete command of his demon abilities, she had seen evidence to the contrary. She could not figure him out at all.

She hadn’t told him of the money she’d taken from Bear’s house, and the pouch stitched to the casing inside the waist of her skirt. That was her safety precaution. She did not want to be left helpless and dependent ever again.

As they made their way toward the Borderlands, Nieve noticed an increase in fortifications protecting the towns they passed. Around the Godseeker Mountains, where she’d been raised, the goddesses’ lingering presence had protected the people even after their departure. Demons could not enter. Walled cities and towns were neither necessary nor commonplace, and mining settlements sprawled throughout the mountains. The Godseekers maintained law and order.

The farther she and Creed moved into what was once demon territory, the more obvious it became to her that these communities, with no goddess protection, had been forced to rely heavily on ramparts. They’d found their growth restricted accordingly. To her, it seemed as if a lot of people were crammed in a very limited space.

It was late afternoon when they approached yet another small and fortified town. In the distance she could see that its palisades were strengthened by sturdy timbers, the posts sharpened to points along the top of the walls.

The day was hot. The hross, sensing food and water ahead, picked up its pace, and Nieve rocked in the saddle where she sat behind Creed. Both of her hands rested at his hips, her thumbs hooked in the buttoned suspender straps attached to his trousers, for lack of a better place to hold on.

“If demons could attack from the sky, would these walls really have kept them out?” Nieve asked.

“The walls weren’t built as a defense against demons. They were meant to keep people out,” Creed replied.

“I don’t understand.”

“Demons generally hunted alone, and at night. They’d go for easier prey, found out in the open, rather than try to attack people who were sequestered inside houses. Walls protected the residents by guaranteeing that there’d be easier prey outside.” He pointed to a round watchtower on top of the wall, to one side of the front gates. “Guards stood on duty up there and shot anyone who tried to climb over the walls or ram through the closed gates before morning.”

Nieve already knew how it would feel to stand on top of those walls and listen to the terrible screams of men being torn to pieces. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to be on the outside, under demon attack, and to have shelter so close but unattainable, all the while knowing what was coming.

Men could be every bit as monstrous as demons.

“The walls also kept women in,” Creed continued. “Part of their purpose was to protect the innocent from the summons of demons.”

“We didn’t have walls around the village where I grew up,” Nieve said. “Perhaps if we did, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

The moment she uttered the words, a hot tide of guilt swept over her. It sounded as if she wished her son had never been born, and that was far from the truth. She’d never known how much love it was possible to feel for another person until she’d had him. She ached with longing for him, and from fear for his safety. And yet she could not help but be bitter about the hand fate had dealt her.

“I didn’t mean to imply that women are weak,” Creed said.

He had an uncanny way of picking up on her unguarded emotions. Without thinking about her actions, she leaned closer to him and rested her cheek against his broad back, seeking comfort through the physical contact. Heat from his tattoo blazed through his shirt.

At once, calm spread through her.

There was a long period of silence where nothing more was said. Nieve closed her eyes and listened to the thudding sounds the hross’s great hooves made as they struck the packed sand and pebbled ground beneath them.

“How did you end up with Bear?” Creed asked.

For a moment she considered pretending she hadn’t heard. Then she opted to tell him the truth. He already knew about Asher’s father. She had nothing more to hide from him that was as terrible. If anything, the secrets she suspected Creed kept were far worse.

But she was a woman, and whether or not she was weak, judged far more harshly than a man in this world because of it. A band of pain tightened around her heart.

“My father paid him to take me after I told him I was pregnant by a demon,” Nieve said. “I thought he would help me. Instead, he said I’d been ruined and that I no longer had any value to him, and that he couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

She sounded so matter-of-fact she could hardly believe that was her voice. This was the first time she’d told anyone her story, and even after so much time had passed she had difficulty forming the words. The sting of betrayal, and her incredulous disbelief that her doting father could turn against her so completely, remained a dull ache—not so much fresh as persistent, and undoubtedly permanent. She’d learned a harsh lesson about life. A woman, regardless of how privileged she’d been raised, could trust no one.

Creed’s silence said he was thinking about what she had told him. Although curious as to what he thought, she refused to let his opinion matter.

“Even though my mother tried her best, because of what I am, she could never come to love me,” Creed said at last. “For a lot of people, doing their best isn’t enough no matter how hard they try. All we can do is understand and accept that the fault lies with them, not us, and be willing to forgive. No one is perfect or always right. We shouldn’t judge them either.”

Something snapped inside Nieve. Her hands tightened into fists where she held onto Creed, twisting the fabric of his clothing.

“My son is the most important person in the world to me,” she said. “Ash isn’t responsible for who, or what, his parents are. I’ll never understand a mother’s inability to love and protect her own child. Never. Your mother was
wrong
.”

The fierceness of her outburst took them both by surprise. With a flash of awareness that burned deep, Nieve realized she was wrong, too. She had judged Creed for what he’d been born, and not his actions. He was unfailingly thoughtful and gentle with her. He had defended her. If he had been a simple assassin, and killed those thieves using mortal means, she would have thought nothing more of it. She hadn’t thought twice of the manner in which he’d killed Bear, only that he’d done it.

He settled a hand on her thigh and gave it a light squeeze. While the chaste, simple gesture was no doubt intended to convey nothing more than compassion and understanding, it sent a blistering jolt of intense lust from where his fingers rested near her knee, straight to the juncture between her thighs. Nieve might have fallen from the saddle if she had not been holding on so tightly to Creed. In the back of her head, a voice screamed,
He’s mine
.

It had nothing to do with his ability to use compulsion. It came from inside her. She could not have said what had triggered such an awareness either. They’d been together for almost a week, and this was not the first time he’d touched her this way. She could have had him any time she wanted. He had made that quite clear.

And she wanted him now, out of the blue, with an aching desire that left her lightheaded and breathless.

But another voice, equally loud, warned that she could not trust her own instincts while her son was still missing because all of her emotions were too extreme. It was as if, after a year of feeling nothing, a switch had been turned on and an avalanche of sensations triggered—but with every high there came an equal low. She could not be content to admire the beauty of the changing landscape as they passed through it. She had to bask in all of the glory the goddesses had brought to the world. She did not experience simple sadness—she drowned in the depths of despair.

She was more afraid of herself than Creed, and what this inundation of strong emotions might mean for her sanity.

And to her son, because she felt Asher slowly and inexorably slipping away.

He should be first in her thoughts.

Always.

She could not allow any distractions. Any division of purpose. If she did not think of Ash constantly, if he did not remain her priority, she might forget him again. The possibility terrified her.

Somewhere, her baby waited for her.

Creed had gone rigid in the saddle in front of her. The lazy, rolling motion of his body as he moved with the hross ceased. Tension radiated off him, as if he knew what she was thinking.

The thought of the two of them sitting so close, with her legs and arms around him for the next half hour, grew unbearable, even though they had been in this position for most of the day already. And indeed, for the better part of a week.

“I want to walk,” she said.

She needed his help to dismount. Her skirt was an impediment, and the drop was a long one. Creed made no comment, only half turned, slid one arm around her waist, and swung her carefully to the ground. She smoothed her skirt over her hips.

He looked down at her for a moment. He did not try to ease or dismiss her nervousness. He also had to know that he couldn’t have done so. Not with this sexual awareness so strong between them.

She was not innocent or virginal. And he was a demon.

He was very beautiful, she found herself thinking. He wore no hat, and right now his shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow, yet the hot sun made no significant change to the warm golden coloring of his skin. She felt so pale and insignificant in comparison that she could scarcely understand what he found attractive about her, but that he found something was unmistakable. Two pale blue diamonds, set between thick black lashes, glittered as he gazed at her.

“When you get tired of walking,” he said, “just say so and I’ll trade places with you.”

He urged the hross forward, keeping the impatient animal to a slow pace that Nieve had no difficulty maintaining. She trudged along the dusty, broken trail beside him with her thoughts in complete disarray.

And torn in two very different directions.

…

Creed could not spend the night in a hotel with Nieve as he’d planned. Not when his demon had been roused and every male instinct in him urged that he possess her. Whether she understood it or not, just now she had claimed him.

He’s mine
.

He had heard the thought as loudly as if she’d shouted it from the top of the town wall they approached.

But he would not be a demon. He had always controlled that side of himself, even in these past months when it had become stronger than he’d ever imagined possible. It frustrated and unnerved him to discover that Nieve, who was terrified of it, seemed to bring it out in him, in the worst ways and at the wrong times, when he would have done anything to protect her from it.

The town was within sight. Comfort beckoned. So did temptation. Creed brushed a droning hoverfly from the back of his neck, the tattoo itching and burning where she had touched it. He debated what was best to do. Being around strangers right now, when his demon was so restless and possessive of her, was not wise.

She might have claimed him, but she had chosen not to act on it. She might never do so, which he would do well to remember. She wanted her son. He wanted Willow. He had duties to consider, and his demon’s fascination with Nieve sometimes made him forget them, or set them aside when he should not, because he’d stayed close to the Godseeker Mountains for her sake.

He could not continue this obsession with Nieve and her wishes.

On a whim, Creed set off from the main road toward the sprawling, red-soiled hills speckled with green clusters of shrubs that were bisected by a little-used side trail. He watched over Nieve closely as they traveled, worried that the heat and rougher terrain might prove too much for her, but she seemed far less restless and easier in her mind for the exercise. Walking had been a good decision.

For both of them.

A half hour later, and deeper into the hills, Creed saw that they were not natural hills at all, as he’d hoped they would not be, but ruins that had been burned out by demon fire in the days when the world had been razed, then abandoned to become buried by blowing sands and time. They would harbor dangerous sinkholes in their depths if the old buildings had rotted away, making it unwise for the newer settlement to build over them, but their location marked the presence of precious water aquifers and ancient reservoirs that the settlement could tap into.

Excitement prickled at the small of his back. These ruins were well worth exploring. Because the current town had not been built on top of them, but some distance apart, also indicated that there were things still buried here that the locals knew better than to disturb, either from experience or through folklore.