Black Widow Demon (6 page)

When she opened them again, it was the sun that blinded her.

Blade’s face swam in and out of focus above hers, making her nauseated, his concern evident in what little she could read of his emotions past her own turbulent thoughts.

She rolled to her side and retched in the dirt, his rough palm smoothing her hair away from her hot face, until her stomach was empty and sore.

Blade asked her a question, but his lips did not move at the same speed as his words, and she could not make sense of it. The distortion unsettled her, and her stomach lurched again. Willing the world to remain still, she tried to sit up.

Behind him, from out of nowhere, a giant brown snake with yellow venom dripping off its pointed fangs reared its flat head.

Raven opened her mouth to cry out a warning, but Blade clapped his hand over her lips.

…

He moved with barely enough time to stifle the sounds of her screams from the riders passing below them. Blade had been sitting with her for the better part of an hour now, waiting for her to drift back into awareness, uncertain how long or how frequent her periods of lucidity were going to be.

Dampness soaked the glossy black curls around her face, and although her breathing had been panicked and shallow for quite some time, it now seemed even. This was the first time since she’d lost consciousness that she had opened her eyes, too.

It worried him. The hallucinations during the day were reputed to be bad enough. The ones experienced by the victim at night had the potential to drive them insane. He had hoped a woman who could hold her own in a wrestling match with a man his size would be less susceptible to the hallucinations, but he’d been wrong. He had no idea what she thought she had seen behind him, but whatever it was must have been bad.

Blade’s hand still covered her mouth, but it no longer mattered. The riders were gone, and she was quiet again. This time, however, her rest seemed more peaceful, although he had no idea how long it might last. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and tried to think what to do.

He had promised he wouldn’t leave her, and he did not intend to do so for any great length of time, but he needed to gather his belongings and purchase enough supplies to get them to safety.

He gently brushed a thumb across her beautiful lips, lost in thought. Even though his attraction to her had not abated, it was somewhat easier to ignore now that he was responsible for her safety. The fact that he understood her allure was a defense mechanism, and that she did not have complete control over it, helped, too.

It was her attraction to him, however, that had taken him so completely by surprise. But he would not again forget that she was half demon, or that demons hated men. Even her mortal half had no reason to like men that he could see. He would help her until she recovered, but to trust in a false fascination for each other would be suicide.

That didn’t mean he was immune to her other charms. Her courage, dangerous as it was, was admirable. He still could not quite believe her bold attempt on the Godseeker’s life.

He sighed, looking above and around them. In order to help her he had to get them off this mesa—it was too close to Goldrush and very exposed. She needed a place to rest, to regain her strength. The snakebite remained angry and red, her calf swollen to nearly twice its size so that she could not bend her knee if she tried. He couldn’t carry her across the desert in this condition, and even if she were lucid, she would not be able to walk very far on her own.

As much as he disliked the idea, he had to move her to a temporary shelter where he could tie her and gag her. He could see no other alternative. If he left her alone and unrestrained, she might wander off or make enough noise to alert her pursuers. He would only make a quick run into town and be back before nightfall—when the real terrors would begin.

He got to his feet, working a cramp from his leg with a wince. Then he lifted Raven into his arms. Despite her small size she was not light, and he grunted from both the physical effort and his faint surprise. He again wished he had left town while he’d had the chance. If he had not tried to interfere in her life, she would not have fought him and the snakebite would never have happened.

He had caused this, and he could not abandon her. Once, a long time ago, he had been left for dead, and if not for the intervention of strangers, he would have died. Instead, he had been crippled until a half demon had made him whole again, giving him back his life. So while he despised most demons and viewed their spawn with suspicion, he would give Raven the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

He settled her head in the crook of his shoulder and started up a narrow, natural footpath that led to the desert above.

Midday was never the best time to travel into the desert, although with winter fast approaching it was cooler than it might have been otherwise. Blade supposed he could be thankful for that.

Dust-covered mesquite and rough terrain stretched for miles. The low foothills and mountains on the other side of the town would have provided more ideal places to hide, but the majority of the searchers would have explored them for that very reason. The place he finally settled on for her was not perfect—a grove of spindly yucca brush at the base of a low, rock-tabled plateau carved by the wind, interspersed with creosote bush. It was obvious shelter that any search party would be inclined to explore, but the hideaway was so close to town and in the same direction from which the last riders had returned, it was very likely they had already checked the spot.

He deposited her in the shade, his back and shoulder muscles groaning with relief. The relief quickly turned to worry when he realized he had nothing to bind her with. He sat beside her beneath the long, leathery leaves of a graying yucca and rested a contemplative wrist on one knee as he surveyed her still form.

Around her neck she wore an amulet on a long, gold chain. He had seen such replicas before, although this was of higher quality than most. It was not a goddess amulet. Fashioned after the one the Demon Slayer possessed and made from common red soil hardened by desert varnish, people purchased them from corrupt dealers on the mistaken belief that they offered physical protection from demons.

He eyed her dress. It was already beyond salvation. He doubted if the plain, lightweight fabric could hold her if she truly wished to be free, but he suspected she would not be aware she was restrained unless she became coherent. It wasn’t likely to happen in such a short time after the bite and was a risk he would have to take. He gripped the hem of her dress and began to tear strips from it. When he got to town he would try to find her something more practical to wear to replace it.

The rapid movement of her eyes beneath their lids as he worked indicated she was hallucinating again, although this one didn’t seem as violent as the others. Once he tied her down, he covered her as best he could with his coat so she would not be so…exposed. Then, he stood and stared at her for a long moment. At the curve of her throat and the feverish blush to her cheek. At the short, soft riot of curls he had tucked behind one pretty ear. He breathed in her unique, subtle, and tantalizing scent—roses and warm desert sage.

Leaving her tied like this seemed cruel, but he had done far worse things in his life and for less noble reasons. He had no other choice. And she was not as delicate as she appeared.

He swallowed hard. He would return as quickly as possible.

…

Creed did not know what to make of the disturbing rumors of spawn that had reached the Temple of Immortal Right. All he knew was that the rumors meant trouble.

Despite the chill air that blew through the mountain range and into the valley, sweat rolled down his naked back and dripped off his face. He swiped at his forehead with the crook of his elbow, his eyes already stinging, and he blinked several times to clear them. As he circled the small enclosure, stalking the fierce trainer he faced, it was Raven he worried about. If personal experience was any indication, then the departure of full-blooded demons was turning out to be a mixed blessing for mortals. Yes, they were gone, but his demon talents had increased exponentially. And Raven was far more demon than he.

The trainer, deceptively agile for his advanced years, brought forward the long, heavy staff he carried in his gnarled fingers, smashing Creed across the side of his smooth-shaved head with it. The blow was not gentle, and Creed, although almost twice the trainer’s size and less than half his age, had trouble shaking it off.

“Pay attention,” Siege said, his voice laden with disapproval.

Creed blocked the next strike with a hand, then shot out his forearm in a blow aimed at the old man’s chin. Siege leaped aside even as he laid the staff whiplike along Creed’s back and shoulder. A loud crack filled the air. When the adrenaline wore off, Creed knew he would have a number of welts purpling all over his body.

A crowd had gathered to watch one of the temple’s brightest talents spar with the aged and well-respected leader of the Godseeker assassins. A Godseeker in his own right, it was said the old man had once survived an attack by three demons. Creed had no idea if the story was true or something that had simply been embellished over the years, but he did know one thing for certain—fights, even these training spars, could not be forfeited or ceded. If he did not tap into his demon, the old man would best him.

Standing head and shoulders above most men, losing a fight was not something Creed had much experience with. Even though Siege was armed and he was not, their size and age differences, and the rumor that the old man had a bad heart, made Creed heavily favored to win. Bets on the outcome had already been exchanged.

He had never called on his demon to help him in these sparring matches, though, and he would not start now. He had no inclination to take unfair advantage, regardless of the skill level of his opponent. Siege was the more experienced fighter today, plain and simple, and Creed wanted to learn from him more than he wanted to win.

With his usual good nature, Creed took the beating he received in stride. Siege showed him no mercy, and he expected none. Twenty minutes later, he was on the ground with Siege’s staff pressed against his windpipe. The ringmaster called the fight in the elderly assassin’s favor.

“A ten-year-old girl could have beaten you this morning,” Siege said. White eyebrows touched over the bridge of his hawked nose as he glared down at him in contempt before releasing the pressure on his throat. “Go get cleaned up. You’ll spend the afternoon reading in the library.”

As a punishment, this was meant to humiliate—many of the assassin trainees came here illiterate. But Creed was not one of them. Columbine, Raven’s mother, had taught him to read, and he enjoyed any time spent in the library. It was well stocked with books on Old World history and ancient technology from the period before the Demon Occupation.

He crossed the narrow compound to the showers.

Their entrance was carved from the valley’s natural rock walls. The entire temple existed as a series of such rooms, interconnected and flowing from one to the other. Each had an entry from the compound outside, as well, leaving everything open and giving the inhabitants very little privacy and no opportunity to keep secrets.

Low ceiling lighting flashed on in response to Creed passing through the door. At this time of the morning, when most men were at breakfast, the showers were usually empty. And yet as he entered, although he saw no one, he knew at once that he was not alone.

Creed had demon skills other than fighting that he did not hesitate to call upon when needed. He had always deflected attention from himself and influenced the thoughts of others with ease, making himself almost completely invisible if he wished. He also had a sixth sense for other half demons.

Those skills were growing too.

In the corner of the room, near shelves stacked with towels, he spied a teenage boy in grimy clothes who stared around the room trying to figure out where Creed had gone. The boy had no weapons on him, at least none to be seen. Neither did Creed sense that he meant any harm, although there was an overriding sense of urgency to him.

Creed crossed the room in a few long, silent strides, reached down to take the boy by the scruff of his ragged coat, and jerked him to his feet. “Are you crazy, coming here like this?” he asked. “Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you’re discovered?”

The boy’s eyes were wide and cautious, but also determined.

“I need your help,” he said.

Creed had to laugh. “You’ve come to the wrong place for that, my friend. Assassins work for Godseekers. They aren’t going to help a half demon.”

“Not help from assassins. I need it from you,” the boy said. He wiggled around inside his coat so that Creed’s hold on it did not strangle him. “And it’s not for me. It’s for Raven.”

Creed felt the smile fade from his lips at the mention of her name. The floor in the open showers was damp and slick with moisture, and he adjusted his footing so that he would not lose his hold on the interloper or be thrown off balance by him. “What’s wrong with her?”

He listened in disbelief as he learned of the judgment against her and her subsequent escape.

“What makes you think I can help her?” he asked. In fact, he couldn’t. He could not simply leave the temple without repercussion. She would understand that. He had to believe she’d learned something of survival from him.

“There’s a connection between you. She trusts you. Tracing you through her was easy.”

They did have a connection. One he had no wish for anyone to discover and had gone to great lengths to hide. Creed’s worry for her increased. Raven did not deflect attention, as he did. Instead, she drew it to herself, and usually in worrisome ways. If her talents had increased as much as Roam’s ability to find her suggested, and she could be traced back to Creed through them, she would bring trouble upon them both.