Authors: Theresa Meyers
The Hunter (9 page)
His mother had been such a woman. But her steadfast loyalty and unyielding resolve hadn’t stopped the demon’s bullet that killed her. He’d been so young all he’d remembered were her soft kisses brushed against his forehead at night and her warm hugs and the cinnamon-sugar cookies she’d bake for him, always letting him have one before his brothers. Pa said there wasn’t another woman like her on Earth, and he believed it. But then Miss Arliss wasn’t a woman, she was something more. Colt had to admire her grit even though he was determined not to let her powers sway his better judgment any further.
“Let me look at that wound of yours.” Only now did Colt realize that his shoulder burned. He glanced down. The singed edges of his shirt were charred around the long, dark slice in his skin that was raw and blistered and bleeding sluggishly. He glanced up at her. “It’s fine.”
She arched one brow. “I didn’t think Hunters were supposed to lie.”
“Who says I’m lying?”
The look she gave him said he ought to ’fess up. It did burn worse than he wanted to admit. “If it makes you feel better, you can look at it.”
She stepped closer to him, that unique female scent of her drifting up and crowding out the unpleasant stench of burnt hellhound. Her long, tapered fingers pulled back the edges of his tattered, burned shirt with infinite tenderness. The tip of her pink tongue touched the center of her upper lip and Colt had the ridiculous notion that kissing her would make the pain go away completely.
“I may have something to soothe that, but I’m afraid it’s going to leave a mark.”
“Yes, ma’am. I think it is.”
She opened her palm, and a small blue glass jar appeared in it.
“What’s that?”
“Healing salve. It’ll take away the burning, but I’m afraid this is going to take a while to heal.”
“Sometimes injuries from supernaturals never heal.” Colt was thinking specifically of Winn and how the demon had crushed the will to hunt right out of him. It had left Winn with a scar on his thigh, but had messed him up worse on the inside. Colt had a sickening feeling that if he let himself get too attached to Lilly, it might happen to him too.
“So how’d you become a Hunter?” She opened the metal latch on the glass jar and dipped her fingers into the glistening white salve.
The question seemed so normal that he’d almost answered without thinking. He hesitated a moment. He had no business talking with her like this, and yet she’d fought back-to-back with him against the hellhounds. He owed her something. A little information about his past seemed harmless enough. “I was born into it. My family is part of the Legion. Has been since way back when.” The trail she left as she touched him was cool and relaxing, soaking into him like water into the parched desert sands. Something he’d needed desperately but hadn’t known he had until it was given to him.
“You’re famous in our world, you know.”
From the light throb, just below the black velvet ribbon around her throat, Colt could tell the touch affected her too. She glanced up at him, her green eyes bright and wide, shining with something more than just admiration.
“Hardly a hero, I’m sure.”
“But you’re part of the Chosen.”
“Isn’t that like the bringer of destruction to your Darkin world?”
She latched the top back on the jar, then waved her hand over it, making it disappear into thin air. “No. The Chosen are the bringers of balance. We need you as much as you need us. What would light be without darkness?”
Colt had spent enough time out in the desert to know exactly how that felt. The sunshine could seem unrelenting in its intensity. There were times where the darkness came as a blessed relief after a long day. “Monotonous,” he answered. His mind opened to the possibility that perhaps he needed her to be with him for longer than just finding the Book. Maybe there was more he could learn from this delectable demon.
Unable to resist any longer, he pulled her closer. His shoulder stung, but Colt didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to hold her for a moment before all hell broke loose again. “So what are you going to do once we find that door?”
She looked up at him, her eyes luminous, her chest pressed close to his so that he could feel her heartbeat against his ribs, just as real, just as rapid as his own. “That’s a silly question, Colt.” This time when she said his name there wasn’t any animosity in her tone, and her fingers slid along his jaw, testing the texture of his lips and making him ache with a longing that wasn’t physical alone. “When we find that door, I’m going to open it for you.”
Chapter 8
In every con there came a point where you had to take a risk. That point had just arrived.
Despite her promise to open the door for Colt, Lilly still hadn’t figured out precisely what she was going to do once he got his hands on the pages from the Book of Legend. Rathe had demanded it. Furthermore, he wanted Colt dead. Just how far was she willing to go? Certainly she could seduce Colt into giving her the Book, but was she willing to turn Colt over to the archdemon and lose her one chance at becoming mortal again because she feared Rathe?
“Where are we?” Colt cast the light from the coil illuminator, exposing the uneven rocky ceiling of the shaft, which had begun to widen and slope upward. The temperature had markedly increased, causing Lilly to worry some at the trickle of moisture between her breasts and the possibility that her state might be evidenced on the calico of her dress. The fetid, damp smell of stagnant water combined with the earthy scent of wet rock to saturate the air in the humid heat.
“My best guess is we’re nearing the second cavern.”
He shook the coil illuminator a few times, but it refused to produce any brighter light. “Could you snap us another oil lamp?”
“I can do one better.” Lilly balled up her hand, blowing on it until her palm grew warm and the flutter of small wings beat against the cage of her fingers. She opened her fist slowly and released the red fireflies into the air.
Their dancing lights scattered far and wide, soaring out through the tunnel opening and into the chamber. Lilly followed, with Colt quickly falling into step beside her. The fireflies seemed to multiply until there were thousands of them. Their individual light bounced in small dots of color off the rocks as they bobbed and bounced in the air, but combined they lit the space with a warm reddish glow.
“Haven’t seen fireflies like that before.”
She tilted her lips up in a coy smile. “Unless you go to Hell sometime, you never will.”
“They’re kinda pretty.” The way he said it made it obvious he wasn’t just talking about fireflies from Hell. He locked gazes with her, his pupils dilated a fraction, the dark nearly swallowing the deeper blue.
Lilly forced herself to remember that he was a Hunter first and a man second. “Not everything from Hell is horrible. Sometimes they just reside there out of circumstance.”
An eerie green glow filled the shaft in front of them, and Lilly pinched her nose at the increasing stagnant stench. She inched closer to Colt, unsure of what awaited them. The map in Colt’s hand seemed to come to an end with X marking the spot.
The floor of the shaft sloped upward enough that they couldn’t see over the rise, but based on the smell alone Lilly had an idea they were close to still water. Colt was going to balk. They’d never get the Book, not if it required him to swim. She slowed down, forcing Colt to lag in his steps.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. “Just how far are you willing to go for what you’re looking for? I know you are willing to kill for it, but are you willing to die for it?”
He eyed her warily. “If I have to.”
“What about swim?”
“Excuse me?”
“Swim. Are you willing to swim for it?”
Colt stiffened. “Why?”
They crested the top of the rise. The trail ended below them at the shores of a wide, acid green lake, which glowed with an unearthly phosphorescence that lit up the stalactites overhead in ripples of green light.
“Because you might wish you had died instead,” she said flatly.
They walked down to the shoreline of black sand, which ran in both directions until it disappeared in the darkness. It was impossible to see how big the lake was.
The light of the fireflies bounced and reflected off the water as ghostly female forms, transparent and as oddly green as the water, drifted with sightless eyes and placid smiles just beneath the surface.
“What in tarnation? More water? Are you sure we aren’t already in Hell? Maybe we crossed the border back there,” he ground out, irritation lacing his tone.
The succubus shrugged. “Everyone has their own personal version of Hell. Just figures that a Hunter wouldn’t be afraid of flames and brimstone.”
He blatantly ignored her comment. “And what are those things?” He pointed to the placid figures in the water.
“Naiads, water sprites. The minute you touch that water, they’ll try to lure you in deeper. Don’t give me that superior I’m-a-Hunter-and-I’d-never-succumb look. Trust me, you won’t be able to resist.”
He turned his gaze back to the water, transfixed. “We’ll have to find a way around.”
“It could be a thousand miles,” Lilly pointed out. “Straight across will be quicker.”
He turned his head slowly to look at her again. “Across? What for?”
“That.” She pointed, and his eyes reluctantly followed her finger.
On the far shore, a small rock ledge jutted out of the cavern wall, extending just over the surface of the water. Above it was a black shiny door made of what looked like volcanic glass set into a rough wall of gray granite.
“Damn.” He shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hands. “You sure there ain’t another way?”
Now was her chance if she wanted to ensnare him. His guard was as down as it was ever going to be. She could take his will, bend it to her wishes, but then, then she’d never know if his response was genuinely to her or just to her succubus powers. Here was the risk, staring her straight in the face. Daring her to take the chance.
What’s it going to be?
If she glamoured him, it would be easy as pie to hand him and the piece of the Book over to Rathe. If she glamoured him, he’d become just another of Rathe’s thralls and never be strong enough to help her fight the demon lord and become human once more. Choices. Choices.
If she glamoured him, it would be easy as pie to hand him and the piece of the Book over to Rathe. If she glamoured him, he’d become just another of Rathe’s thralls and never be strong enough to help her fight the demon lord and become human once more. Choices. Choices.
Lilly took a deep, steadying breath and decided against glamouring him. He seemed to be a man capable of reason, and willing to keep his word. Those were few and far between, nigh extinct, in her experience, but she liked to believe a few still existed. It was one of the few things that kept her faith in humanity alive and well. “Well, it looks like if you want to get to that door, we’re going to have to find out how potent those naiads really are.”
Overhead the fireflies began to wink out one by one, until only the greenish glow of the water remained. Colt swallowed hard, pushing his toe up to the edge of the water but not getting it wet. He could do this. He had to do this.
It’s just water. It ain’t gonna kill you.
His gaze connected with hers.
It’s just water. It ain’t gonna kill you.
His gaze connected with hers.
“Do you want me to go first?” she asked. There seemed no guile in it, but Colt couldn’t be sure. Maybe she wanted to get to the door first. Maybe she was hoping that the naiads would simply drag him down and drown him as he tried to follow her.
He frowned. “No, I’ll go first. Just take care of my hat and my saddlebags. I don’t want them getting wet again.” He peeled off his Stetson and tossed it at her, then shrugged his saddlebags off his shoulder, letting them drop to the black sand.
Miss Arliss caught his hat and arched her brow. “What about your boots?”
Colt grumbled and peeled them off one at a time, dropping them into the black sand as well. “Happy?”
“You could keep going—if you didn’t want to get your clothes wet,” she replied archly, setting his hat down next to his boots and the saddlebags.
Colt rubbed his hand through his hair. “Don’t give me any fool ideas, woman. I’ve got enough to deal with.” He took three quick rapid breaths in and out, getting up his gumption to go into the lake, then stepped one foot in the strange water. The surface immediately broke into ripples of movement.
Hell’s bells. This isn’t regular water.
His whole form turned rigid at the contact as the naiads’ voices, light and musical, filled the cavern, echoing in harmony off the rocks.
Hell’s bells. This isn’t regular water.
His whole form turned rigid at the contact as the naiads’ voices, light and musical, filled the cavern, echoing in harmony off the rocks.
“What do we have to do to make them stop singing?” he called back to Miss Arliss without taking his eyes off the strange water. Translucent, pale green feminine hands and fingers undulated along the surface.
“Get what you’re after,” she answered. “There’s nothing else.”
Colt swore under his breath as the long, tapered green fingers of several dozen hands shimmied up his foot, grasping and stroking at his calves, then his knees and thighs. It would have been erotic except that the pounding in his chest wasn’t the excited kind; it was born out of pure gut-wrenching terror.
Nothin’ hurts worse than losing. When Hunters lose, people die
, he told himself, repeating the mantra his father had drilled into him again and again. He entered the water up to his knees with a jerky stride, pushing himself to ignore the warning bells clanging like an accompaniment to the naiads’ song. His knees suddenly seemed spongy and almost unable to hold his weight.
, he told himself, repeating the mantra his father had drilled into him again and again. He entered the water up to his knees with a jerky stride, pushing himself to ignore the warning bells clanging like an accompaniment to the naiads’ song. His knees suddenly seemed spongy and almost unable to hold his weight.
The skin on his face turned damp with sweat, and his heart swelled, filling his chest and his throat, making it damn uncomfortable to breathe. He could literally feel the naiads pulling on the stiff denim of his pants, pulling him deeper into the water. He hesitated, hand on his gun belt. But there was nothing to shoot at. Nothing to torch to a crisp. They were liquid, for God’s sake.
“I’m right behind you. Keep going,” Miss Arliss said, but he could barely hear her over the loud, insistent song of the naiads that was even now drowning out his own thoughts.
He forced his field of vision down to only one thing: the smooth sheet of obsidian ahead. Nothing else was there. Nothing else mattered. He willed himself to move one foot, then the other deeper into the swirling liquid, even as his logical mind rebelled as the glowing water pushed up farther, chilling him to the core.
The singing of the naiads became louder, a cacophony, drowning out the sound of even his own heartbeat in his ears.
Perhaps dropping into the water, letting it wash over me isn’t such a bad idea.
Perhaps dropping into the water, letting it wash over me isn’t such a bad idea.
Colt shook his head and blinked hard. No, that wasn’t his thought, it was the song of those damn water nymphs.
The bottom of the lake felt soft and insubstantial beneath his feet, like a thick layer of mud that gave way, but then sucked and pulled before it would release him. Colt was damned if he’d go under and concentrated on keeping his footing. No turning back now.
The cold hit his knees. His thighs. His groin. His waist—hell’s bells. He was doing it! Elation inflated his chest. A hundred feet and he’d be on the ledge.
The water lapped around his chest. Naiads pulled free of the surface of the water, their translucent faces eerie and beautiful. One grasped him with her liquid arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to his in a kiss.
The glowing waters slid around his lips, cool and intimidating. Colt tore away, his arm swinging through the naiad, turning her into a spray of droplets as his foot slipped in the silty bottom of the lake. The singing continued to swell. More naiads collected around him, pressing their bodies against his, their lips to his cheeks.
He suddenly lost contact with the bottom of the lake. Panic, white hot, raced through him. He thrashed, desperate to touch down, his arms colliding into the naiads gathered around him. He raised his hand to cover his ears, but a smooth, solid hand stopped him.
“Stand up.” It was the succubus’s voice in his ear, clear, strong, and decisive. Her grip on his wrist was sure. “You’re through the deepest part. The water is only up to your shoulders if you just stand up.”
Colt forced himself to ignore the slick, suffocating sensation of the water on his skin and pushed his feet downward. To his surprise they connected with something solid. Despite his spongy knees, he stood. The liquid retreated slightly, but not enough to rid him of the horrible sick swirling in his gut telling him he was going to drown.
His vision blurred as his lungs refused to function. An insistent pushing at his back told him Miss Arliss was still there with him. As long as she was touching him, the naiads’ hold on him was like a light current in the green water tugging at him, but not able to pull him under. But Colt had no illusions. If Miss Arliss weren’t there, he’d have been under the water long before he reached that door. So far the demon had proven herself far more of an ally than a handful of other Hunters he’d known. And that was saying something.
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