Black Widow Demon (32 page)

“What did he say to you?” Blade asked, startling her so that her breath froze.

She rolled to her side to face him, sliding one bent elbow beneath her head. He smelled like crushed soap root, fresh and clean.

“I thought you were sleeping,” she said.

“I thought the same about you.” He lifted a lock of her hair and twisted the curl around one finger, then gave it a gentle tug. “So what did he want?”

“He says Justice and the demon woman are following me and that the Godseekers are sending assassins after me. If I ask him for help against them, he expects payment. He wants either Justice or me.” She turned to Blade. “No matter what happens, remember your promise not to let him have me.”

The eaves sighed. Other than that, the night remained silent. He did not answer her, but she had no need of one. Blade would do what was necessary.

“Do you ever pray?” she asked. “Without thinking about it or really meaning to? Maybe just a wish—but a heartfelt one?”

“I suppose I do. I’d imagine everyone does.”

“Do you know who answers mine?”

Blade’s response was typical of him. Blunt and practical. “If he does, then you should pray for him to leave you alone forever.”

“He’ll never leave me alone,” she said.

“Exactly.” Blade rolled closer and placed his broad palm on her stomach, the weight of it heavy and reassuring. “He picks up on prayers and wishes that are highly emotional. Of those, he responds to the ones he believes he can exploit. That’s not fulfilling prayers.” He paused. “Wishing for something doesn’t mean you should have it, and saying something doesn’t necessarily make it true. He’s doing nothing for you that he doesn’t want, too. He can demand payment from you all he likes but it doesn’t mean you owe him anything.”

“I’m half demon,” Raven said. “He’s a full demon. He’s stronger than I am. Sooner or later, he’ll get what he wants.”

“I’m going to ask you something, and it’s important that you be honest with your answer.” She waited while he pulled his thoughts together—careful, as always, with his words. “Do you think Laurel’s demon half is stronger than her mortal side?”

“No,” Raven said. “She doesn’t want to be demon or to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t either,” Blade said. “If she doesn’t allow her demon side to dominate her, why is yours any different or any stronger? You are the only one who defines who you are. I agree that some spawn will be more demon than others. Some mortals are more dangerous than others, too. But that’s because most of them choose to be that way.” Blade drew her into his arms. “Give me time, and I’ll put an end to the demands he makes on you.” He shifted, his greater weight causing the bed frame to creak beneath them. “In the meantime, you owe him nothing, and you give him nothing.”

She did not want him facing her father again. If his amulet failed him he would be at a demon’s mercy, and demons had none. She would simply have to do her best to keep the two of them apart and stay away from her father as best she could.

If she could not do that, then sooner or later, it was Blade she would have to avoid.

…

Morning dawned over the mountains, crisp and clear. The day was still young by the time Justice and his companions reached the upper edge of the goddess boundary. It was much as Justice remembered—a steep drop to forest and then below that, the mist.

It began to affect him several miles before they arrived above it, filling him with a dull, familiar anticipation that he could not forget, a feeling he deeply resented for that reason. He had offered his service to the goddesses as an ignorant boy. He had not fully understood then that the allegiance could not be withdrawn or that he would feel their presence until the day he died. The depth of his hatred for them sometimes surprised even him.

The other two men, Seeker and the assassin Gauntlet, did not seem to notice the oppressive atmosphere of the boundary, but Willow did. Justice identified her uneasiness in the way she shifted in the saddle behind him, her hands and legs in constant motion as if she could not get comfortable. He ignored her restlessness, and the presence of the boundary, to scan the sharp slope for tracks. Loosened rocks, a skid of a boot heel in freshly turned earth, and the odd broken branch were all signs that others had passed this way not too long ago.

He wished Cage were here to interpret the tracks. Annoyance had Justice tightening his grip on the hross’s reins. He had tried to warn his friend of the dangers of running. Cage should have listened.

By afternoon, they reached a summit above the boundary. The gray blanket of mist extended well past the dull, watery horizon. Justice had never heard tell of anyone who entered making it beyond the marked path used by the young Godseekers. It ended in a small clearing where a goddess would greet him if he were to be her chosen.

The goddess who had chosen Justice was a black-haired, golden-skinned beauty. Over time he had grown to hate her for the way she’d made him yearn for her, how she’d stripped away any will he had to resist her demands. Raven’s smooth golden flesh might not have the same goddess-bright gleam to it, but the similarities were enough to remind him of his former mistress. The way she lured men was identical.

He wondered if his goddess ever wandered the boundary, attempting to find her way back to the mountains now that the demons were gone. If so, she would no longer desire him. He was not a young man anymore.

He had no intention of entering the mist if he did not need to. He wondered if Willow could enter. If so, then he would reconsider. If not, then it stood to reason that Raven could not either, and they were wasting valuable time here.

Seeker and Gauntlet stared at the layer of mist as if at the goddesses themselves, leaving Justice burning with impatience and contempt. They knew nothing of the true nature of the immortals.

The path became too steep to navigate safely while riding. Justice slid from the hross’s back, then held up his hands to help Willow dismount. Her gaze, too, was transfixed on the mist, but showed doubt and a trace of what could be mistaken for fear on anyone else. Justice did not think her truly capable of the emotion—she enjoyed instilling it in others too greatly.

“Willow!” he snapped.

She tore her eyes from the swirling gray mass to look down at him. The natural brown of her irises had changed to a fiery red. The color gradually faded, and she allowed him to help her from the saddle. A fold of her skirt caught on it, and she reached back with gloved fingers to tug it free. As he set her on the ground, his hands did not linger. It made his flesh shrivel to share a saddle with her, but she had proven useful and had not yet disappointed him.

“I want you to enter the mist,” he said to her.

“I can’t move forward.” She demonstrated for him. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected in front of her. Each step was brought to an abrupt halt.

Justice frowned. “If you can’t go beyond this point, how is it possible there are two sets of tracks leading down?”

The footprints were clearly evident, as if the owners had suddenly seen no need to hide them. Of course they had not, because they’d had no intention of returning.

But surely the boundary would not have welcomed Raven, a demon’s spawn. The assassin who accompanied her should not have been able to cross either. He had not been one of the chosen favorites.

The other two men had not yet noticed any problem. Justice kept one eye on them as he searched the ground for signs that the two who had entered the mist also returned from it.

There. Footprints, heading up and away from the boundary. He expelled the breath he had been holding. They had not made it, although it offended him that a demon and an assassin who had refused allegiance to the Godseekers had both been permitted to try.

Seeker and Gauntlet had almost reached the path leading into the beginning of the mist. They dug into the ground with their boot heels, balancing their weight on their haunches so they wouldn’t pitch headlong down the mountainside into the trees. Seeker paused when he realized Justice and Willow were not following and looked up at them with a question on his round face.

“Are you coming, Justice?” Seeker asked.

“No,” Justice replied. “I’ve found their tracks. They didn’t cross. They’ve gone back into the mountains in the direction of the old silver mines.” Once more, he wished Cage had not been so rash as to try and run from a demon. Justice could have used his skills.

Seeker’s reluctance to leave without entering the mist was obvious. A tiny frown crafted two deep furrows above the bridge of his broad nose, extending up his forehead. Gauntlet stopped his descent too, and looked to Seeker for direction.

“We’ve come this far. Since we’re here, we may as well take a closer look,” Seeker said. “It will give us something to report to the others as to the boundary’s current state.”

Justice silenced his impatience. He watched as Seeker and Gauntlet reached the tree line. When he was certain they were well out of hearing, he turned to Willow.

“When we find Raven,” he said, “I want you to trap her inside a circle of demon fire like you did me. She won’t want to expose herself as a spawn by crossing it. Not at first. Then, when I give you the signal, I want you to raise the demon. But when you do, release the circle.”

Her cruel mouth hardened. “If I do that, the demon will be free.”

“Not for long.” Raven was a beautiful woman who possessed all the allure of a full immortal. Justice did not believe a demon would be any more able to resist her than a mortal man. A demon had weaknesses in its armor, and all assassins were taught how to exploit them. While she distracted it, the assassin Gauntlet could kill it. “I want it to look as if Raven is the one controlling it. I’m confident she can contain it.”

If things went according to plan, the demon would be dead, and Raven would be either dead too, or held responsible for raising it. If Justice could retrieve the amulet she’d stolen from him, so much the better. He might find a use for it.

What bothered him now, superseding thoughts of Raven and retribution, was that he had not been able to descend to the boundary either. The barrier that held Willow back had held him back as well.

That was something he did not wish for Seeker, or anyone else, to discover and report.

…

It had taken longer for Creed to lose Might in the mountains than he’d liked. It would be even longer, however, before Might discovered that the trail he followed was not real, but one that Creed had planted as a thought in his head. In the meantime, Creed headed back to the temple to search in the direction Blade had departed in, to see if he could pick up some signs. Much of the snow was melted, and Blade’s tracks would probably have disappeared with it, but Creed was a strong tracker. Justice and Cage would have left a wider, easier path to follow. They’d not be expecting to have anyone following them.

And Creed had to find Raven.

From above the valley of the Temple of Immortal Right, Creed paused, took a deep breath of morning air, then began to work his way around to the place where he had said good-bye to Blade. His attention was focused on the ground, but a commotion at the temple gates caught his eye.

A force of ten men passed through. He scanned their faces, but Justice was not among them. They turned off in a direction rarely used because it led to nowhere but the far side of the mountains.

Creed watched until they disappeared from sight, examining the possibilities in his head as to why ten men would be heading toward the goddess boundary.

Then he followed them.

Of the three men, Walker was the one Blade believed he could work with. The younger man did not trust anyone, a trait with which Blade could easily identify. He did not talk too much either—or complain—and was quick to see things that needed to be done.

So on this afternoon, several days after they had all taken up residence in the village, it was Walker Blade chose to accompany him into the mining shaft he was currently exploring. A second man remained on guard duty while the third was foraging for necessities in a village a half-day’s walk away. Laurel and Raven were reviving a smokehouse they’d found.

Blade carried the lantern as they traveled deeper into the mine. The air grew heavy and dank, and the tunnel, narrower. They had no protective hats to wear and Blade was suspicious of the ceiling’s stability.

“Watch out for snakes,” Walker warned him. “Don’t put your hands in any holes.”

Blade was also familiar with mines and remembered the other dangers. At this time of year, snakes came inside and made nests in crevices for the winter. Most were harmless. Some, like the goldthief, were not.

It turned out that Walker had experience as a blaster—an explosives engineer responsible for breaking rock. His ability to move in shadow had made him invaluable in the mines of the lower regions because he could slip into places most men could not, then offer a proper assessment of the ore seams he found. After the demons were banished, his coworkers had no longer been as willing to overlook his unusual talents. He had been out of work, adrift, and on his way back to the village where he’d been raised when he met up with the other three spawn and learned his home was gone.

Blade swung the lantern high so he could see farther ahead down the tracks. It was possible that with access to skills such as Walker’s the mines here could indeed be reworked. If there was money to be made the neighbors might be more forgiving of their eccentricities, especially if the new residents proved to be non-threatening. These people, Walker and Laurel in particular, were harmless, although right now they felt cornered and that would make anyone unpredictable.

As far as Blade could tell, the mine was safe. All seemed fine. He had no idea why it had been abandoned.

“What’s your opinion?” he asked Walker.