Bittersweet Blood (32 page)

Christian inhaled the scent of her blood, and his hand tightened on the trigger. He’d never wanted anything in his entire life more that he wanted to blow the Walker away, but Tara stood too close and might be hurt.

“Lower the knife,” he snarled.

“Christian Roth, oath breaker,” The Walker said. “I see you have returned from Hell and brought a new friend with you.”

“Lower the knife.” When the Walker didn’t move, he pressed the gun harder against him. “If you kill her now, Walker, I will shoot you down, then I will search the Faelands and kill everyone who has ever meant anything to you.”

“They will not allow you to do this.”

“You think I need their permission?” Christian held his breath. For a moment it seemed like the Walker would not comply, then he lowered the knife. “Let her go.”

The hand holding Tara fell away, and she turned to him. He saw the tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. Her enormous eyes locked on him as though she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Asmodai stood at his side, his gaze fixed on his daughter. Christian handed him the gun. “Keep the Walker covered.”

Christian ran his finger over the small cut at her throat. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, trembling as he held her tight. He trembled too; he couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing her. A minute later and he would have arrived to find her butchered. His grip on her tightened.

Christian’s eyes narrowed on Piers. “What part of the plan didn’t you understand?”

Piers grinned. “If you shack up with a demon, don’t expect her to toe the line. She didn’t like your plan.”

His eyes searched out the others, Graham, looking pale, and Carl standing with his hand on the head of a huge hellhound he guessed to be Jamie. His eyes widened when he saw Jonas Callaghan behind the small group.

The fae, their swords drawn, surrounded them. Piers nodded his readiness to fight; they had guns, but the fae outnumbered them.

The air shimmered and a stream of lesser demons swarmed through the open portal, taking up positions around them.

The Walker remained impassive as he returned Christian’s stare. “We will have a reckoning for this, you and I.”

“Perhaps, but not tonight.”

“According to the Accords, she is ours.”

Christian sighed, every bone ached, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but they were still alive, and Asmodai was off his back. The demon continued to stare hungrily at the girl in his arms, but he wasn’t getting her. She was Christian’s now. Only the small problem of the fae remained.

Tara couldn’t spend her life looking over her shoulder, expecting attack. He looked the Walker in the eyes, eyes so similar to Tara’s.

“You can’t have her,” he said softly, “She’s mine. We reach an agreement or we fight now.”

Piers strode over to stand next to him. “I vote we fight now. Let’s just kill them.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“What sort of agreement could we reach with a man who broke his oath only hours after making it?” The Walker asked.

“What sort of agreement would you want?”

“We need assurances that she will never enter Faelands.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Piers snorted. “I doubt she’s going to want to visit with her Uncle Walker anytime soon.”

The Walker ignored him. “I cannot take your word for this.”

“So what do you want?” Christian asked.

“You have proved untrustworthy, but the girl has honor. She offered herself tonight so her friends might live. We need a hostage to her good behavior. If she provides that and gives us a blood oath, we will consider it binding.”

…

Tara clung to Christian’s solid body. She burrowed her head against his hard chest and breathed in the scent of him. Warm, musky, he smelt of sweat, blood, and his own wild, masculine flavor.

She had been so sure she was about to die. She could still feel the hand gripping her hair, the icy coldness of the blade at her throat, and tremors ran through her body.

As though from a distance, she heard her name. She looked around, her eyes widening. All about them stood not only the fae, but figures from her nightmares. Some appeared human, others bore little resemblance to anything she had ever before seen, including creatures like Jamie—hellhounds. Their eyes glowed with hunger as they paced among the throng.

Her gaze was drawn to the tall figure standing next to Christian. Knowing who he must be, she looked away. She couldn’t cope right now.

“Are we going to fight?” she asked Christian, pleased that her voice sounded firm. She loosened her grip on him and tested her legs. They’d stopped trembling and she thought they would hold her up. Probably.

“Maybe, maybe not. It depends on you.”

She wasn’t up to making any more decisions tonight. Fighting would be easier than thinking, but who were they going to fight?

The fae? The demons? Everyone? Perhaps the fae and the demons would fight each other and their little group could slip away in the ensuing chaos.

“What does he want?” Her eyes skittered over the tall fae, the Walker and the knife he still clutched in his hand.

“If you give them a blood oath and swear you will never enter the Faelands, they’ll leave.”

She frowned. “It seems a little too easy.”

“Apparently you’ve impressed him.”

“He didn’t act like he was impressed. He acted like he wanted to kill me.” She thought for a minute. “What does a blood oath involve?”

“Blood, obviously,” Piers said.

“How much blood?”

“You’ll live.”

“Well that’s a novel idea, but what exactly do I have to do?”

“You swear on your blood, but they also want a hostage.”

How could she give them a hostage?

The Walker eyed up their small group. His eyes settled on the hellhound who growled softly. The Walker smiled.

“The shifter will come with us. She cares for him. He’ll stand for her good behavior.”

A flare of anger shot through her. “You’re not taking Jamie.”

The Walker shrugged. “Then the deal is off.”

“I guess we’re going to fight, after all.” Piers sounded positively cheerful. Tara cast him a dark look. She slipped her hand into Christian’s and held on. A hollow pit nestled where her stomach should be. If they fought, some of them would die, but she wouldn’t hand over Jamie.

She took a deep breath. “Yes, we fight.”

The night charged with tension. Demons shifted restlessly, eager to begin, and the fae raised their swords. Christian’s hand tightened in hers and he drew her closer into the protection of his body.

The hellhound vanished, and Jamie stood in its place. He blinked, shook off Carl’s restraining hand, and stepped toward her.

“I’ll go with the fae,” he said.

Tara frowned. “You can’t.”

“Why not? It’s not as though they’re planning on doing anything unpleasant to me. At least, I presume they’re not.”

“He’ll be well treated,” The Walker said.

“You don’t need me anymore,” Jamie said. “And Chloe’s gone. It will be good to get away, see something new. I’ve heard the Faelands are very beautiful.”

Tara bit back her tears, but she couldn’t argue with him. She stalked toward her uncle and pushed her finger into his chest.

“Swear to me that you’ll be good to him?”

A flicker of amusement crossed across his features. “It will be part of the oath. As long as you do not enter the Faelands, he will be safe and unharmed.”

“You won’t keep him locked up or anything?”

“No, he’ll be free.”

She returned to Jamie and hugged him. “You’re sure?”

He nodded.

“I’ll never see you again,” she said.

“Never is a long time. Who knows what will happen in the future?”

She tried to hold on to that thought. “Can I see Smokey one last time?”

He smiled and vanished. She scooped up the huge gray cat, burrowing her nose in his soft fur, and listening to the deep, rumbling purr. She squeezed him hard to her, then let him go. He leapt to the ground and padded over to stand beside the Walker.

Tara bit her lip. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Come here.”

She eyed her uncle warily but took a step closer. He raised the knife. “Hold out your hand.”

Christian came to stand behind her and his warmth and strength flowed into her. She raised her hand and held it palm up, managing not to flinch as the razor-sharp blade sliced through her tender skin. Blood welled from the wound. The Walker raised his own hand and cut his palm. He held it out to Tara, and she took it so their blood mingled. A weird sensation ran through her from the point of contact. Her eyes rose to his face. A strange expression crossed his face.

“Promise, on your blood and the blood of your friend that you will never attempt to enter the Faelands.”

“I promise,” Tara said. The fae made to pull away but she held on. A flash of surprise crossed his features. “Now, you promise that you’ll keep Jamie safe. Keep him happy.”

The Walker glanced down at the cat at his feet. “I promise to try.”

Tara nodded and released his hand.

Christian took Tara’s hand in his, raised it to his lips, and ran his tongue along the cut. Immediately, the sharp pain subsided and she felt the healing begin. He kissed her palm and kept hold of her hand. “Go,” he said to the Walker. “If you ever try and touch her again, I’ll kill you.”

The Walker shrugged. “No hard feelings.”

“Piss off.”

The fog gathered around the fae, swirling swathes of white. They merged with the mist, their edges blurring. Smokey blinked at her one last time and vanished.

“He was my friend for so long, now he’s gone.”

“Despite what you’ve seen of them, the fae aren’t complete monsters, and the Faelands are beautiful.”

“Are there any mice? Smokey likes to hunt mice.”

“I’m sure they can magic him some.”

Piers snorted behind them. “Yeah, of course they can, and I’m sure they will. Because underneath it all, admittedly a long way underneath, the Walker’s a really great guy.”

“Shut up, Piers.”

Piers raised his hands. “Okay, maybe they will make him something to chase. Who knows?” He gestured around the rooftop. “Now, how are we going to persuade the rest of these guys to head home?”

The roof swarmed with demons. They kept their distance but circled like hungry sharks, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. Christian turned to the tall figure at his side. “Get rid of them.”

Asmodai flicked his hand and the demons vanished. Only he remained.

Tara studied him. This was her father. He could pass for human except for his height and the wings. His body was long and lean, his face held a harsh masculine beauty, hawk-like with sharp cheekbones and a large nose. His mouth was full and sensual, his dark hair glinted with hints of ruby, and his eyes gleamed golden. Tara could see nothing of herself in him, and she was glad. He was responsible for Chloe’s death; she would never forgive him for that.

He stood impassive under her regard. When she didn’t speak, he took a step toward her. She made to move back, but Christian blocked her retreat.

“You look like your mother,” Asmodai said.

“So I’ve been told.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek. She flinched, and then froze.

“Do not fear me,” he said. “I wouldn’t harm you. You are my blood.”

“I don’t fear you,” Tara said. “I hate you.”

He studied her as she had studied him, head tilted on one side as though considering the best way to approach her. “You hold me responsible for the death of your friend.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know her, and I didn’t know she was your friend.”

A wave of fury washed over her. “You think that makes it okay? Why was she killed?”

He shrugged. “She was a means to an end. I wanted to hurt Christian Roth the way he hurt me. We believe in an eye for an eye, and he took your mother from me. I wanted him to know how that felt before I killed him.”

“It doesn’t justify murder.”

A frown creased his face. “You behave like a human.”

She glared at him. “I thought I was a human.”

A look of distaste crossed his face. “Hopefully that abnormality will pass, but then what will you be, I wonder. The demon-fae were always unpredictable.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. She might have accepted she wasn’t human, but unpredictable sounded like it could throw up some nasty surprises. She glanced at Christian.

“Don’t ask me,” he said, “I’ve never met one. They were all killed before I was born.”

“I’ve met them,” Piers said. “And yeah, unpredictable just about covers it.” He grinned. “I liked them.”

“Well, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.” She turned back to Asmodai. “Why are you still here?”

“I came here to offer you a home with me. A place at my side.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I want only one thing from you.”

“And that is?”

“Leave Christian alone.”

His glance flashed from her to Christian. “Don’t worry about your vampire lover. We’ve already reached an understanding. He’s safe from me.” He looked back to her. “Do you know where the vampires came from?” She shook her head. “Well perhaps one day I will tell you, but I think a vampire is a fitting mate for one such as you. Now, I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Tara said. “Did you love my mother?”

For a brief moment, his face softened. “Oh, yes.”

“Did she love you?”

“She gave up her people to be with me. She gave up everything and she would have followed me to the Abyss had she been able. She gave up her life for my child. Yes, she loved me.” He reached around his neck and pulled out a ring on a chain. “This was hers. She would have wanted you to have it.”

Tara took the chain. The ring was a simple white-gold band, studded with glittering stones. She draped it over her neck so it rested where the talisman had lain for so many years.

“One day,” Asmodai said, “you might want to know more about her. When that time comes, you are welcome in my home. Your vampire knows the way. No doubt, he will escort you and make sure you get safely back.”

He leaned across, kissed her briefly on the forehead, and was gone.