Brighid's Mark (11 page)

“Riding you.”

“Yes.”

He expelled a harsh breath. “When she leaves, you’ll fall unconscious. You probably won’t remember a thing.”

She laughed. “I think I will. In any case, I’ll certainly remember the bargain I made with her.”

Liam stared at her. “What bargain?”

She stumbled again and almost fell. Brigitte’s answering mirth reverberated inside her. “I’ll tell you about it,” she whispered, as Liam swung her up into his arms. “Over a drink.”

“Sure you will, Keeper,” Liam agreed. “Just as soon as you wake up.”

Chapter Seven

Callie sat on the mossy stone rim of the murky fountain in Liam’s courtyard, the ice pack pressed against the worst of the burns scorching her skin like crude patchwork. These were deep enough to never fully heal—she would be left with a few more scars for her collection.

Liam exited the back door, a glass of whisky in one hand, a small mason jar filled with a white substance in the other. “Those look nasty.”

Callie shrugged. “I’ll live. What’s that?”

Liam held the mason jar aloft in long, nimble fingers. “Something from Sulie. Smells like mint and eucalyptus, good for burns. Once those heal some we’ll rub sugar over them to help avoid scarring.”

Callie cocked an eyebrow. “Trying to keep me pretty, Irish-man?”

Liam chuckled. “Don’t have to try very hard, do I?”

“Cute, smart
and
silver-tongued. Is there anything you don’t do?”

“Windows.”

Callie sputtered on her whiskey, laughing. Liam sat next to her and opened the jar of salve. The heady mixture of mint and eucalyptus thickened the humid air further as he smeared it gently over her new battle wounds. “Want to tell me about this Crossroads bargain you went and made?”

Callie sobered. “Brigitte warned me Chase and Donal were already lost. So I bet her they could still be saved. If I’m right, all is well—we’re both free to come and go as we please. If I’m wrong, I’m bound to New Orleans until the call comes for the End of Days.”

Liam stared at her, blinking. “Even after one of them made that deal with Maeve, you would still save them?”

“I have to. Even if I knew now, right this moment, which of them it was, I’d still have to try.” She drained her glass. “They’re all I really have.”

“Not true.” He tugged playfully at her earlobe. “You have me.”

“Even if—”

“Even if. I’ll make another deal if I have to.”

Callie exhaled. The constriction around her heart eased a little. “I was worried this was temporary.”

Liam cocked his head, smiling, as he smeared a light coat of salve along a burn mark on her jaw. “What was temporary? This?”

When he kissed her, every muscle in her body immediately softened, relaxed. She had been beaten, burned and betrayed. Sometimes a girl just needed to be kissed.

“You’re staying?”

They pulled apart. Chase stood in the weak light offered by the open second story windows, a duffel bag hanging from one hand, shotgun in the other, braced against his shoulder.

Callie stood and limped to meet him halfway across the courtyard, but didn’t come closer. “I have to choose.”

“Who are you kidding, Callie? You made a deal with the Loa. You’ve already made your choice.”

“You made a Crossroads bargain?” Donal exited the building, grasping a supply box from which a bottle of whiskey protruded in one arm. His eyes were wide. “Why, Callie?”

“For Eva,” she said quietly. “And the people of this city who are down a guardian.” She swallowed, heart thundering. She could feel the confrontation building. Now would be the moment she would learn the truth.

Donal’s eyes widened still further. Chase dropped his duffel and brought his shotgun round to ready position. Callie whipped around.

Liam stood a few feet behind her. His stance seemed perfectly relaxed, arms crossed. But the hunter in Callie sensed otherwise. His head was lowered slightly, a secret smile on his face. He was a predator, scenting her out.
 

His eyes ignited molten gold with internal fire.

“Yshotha.” The realization hissed out of her.

Callie stepped forward, forcing her trembling knees into a semblance of stability. She had no sword, no weapon of any kind. Except the puzzle pieces snapping into place with startling rapidity, a healthy dose of desperation, and her bare hands.

“No,” she gritted between her clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare make me fight him.”

“Get out of the way, Callie!” Chase leveled his shotgun, cross-footing to find a decent angle to fire from.

She launched herself at Liam first. He went onto his back, laughing. Callie knew why—there was no way she could take him in her condition.

They broke apart and rolled to their feet. Liam strode forward and snatched Callie into midair before throwing her into the fountain with an almighty splash.

Callie struggled to reach air. Thick, brackish water filled her nose and mouth. A shot rang out, strangely distorted by her underwater trap. Liam’s arm cleaved through the water and wrapped around her throat, holding her under. His grinning, beautiful face rippled above her.

Callie was losing air fast, water ringing in her ears. Her chest burned with panic, heart struggling. She clawed the squeezing vice grip at her throat with one hand, reached for his chest with the other, and yanked.

His head and shoulders landed on top of her. Her left hand clawed at his chest. The city pulsed around her; she felt its energy pumping in Liam’s heart. He was still in there, somewhere. She let the city’s Crossroads power in, fed it to her light. It was so easy, if she just let opened herself to it. The way she had opened herself to him. She gathered it, built it up, fed it to boiling. And spent it all in an explosive bid for freedom.

The world slowed, shifted. When she opened her eyes, she and Yshotha were
between,
with Liam the demon’s unwitting passenger.

Callie and Yshotha tumbled, still struggling, into the void. Callie straddled his torso. Pushing him back with a hand on his chest to keep him immobile, she grabbed him by the throat and leaned close. Her smile as she looked deep into his eyes was feral, sodden hair dripping with graveyard chill.

“Welcome to my realm,” she said. “There’s no time here, no space. I leave you here, you’re not just vanquished. You’re destroyed. Just like Eva.”

Liam-Yshotha’s lip curled as he snarled and bucked under her with demonic strength turned all too human.

Callie never looked away, never blinked. “You thought you sensed unrequited love in him. It was really fear of unrequited love, but it was enough to let you in, in a pinch. Problem is, you were wrong. He is mine.” Yshotha stared at her through Liam’s liquid dark eyes. “
Mine.”
she repeated. “And that is your destruction.”

“You would never leave him here. He would never survive.”

“Neither will I,” Callie said. “If I stay too long, I suffocate, and my soul is as lost as any other dead Keeper’s, with nowhere to go.” Already her breath came harsh, making her voice rough. “You have no idea what I would sacrifice for them, for humanity. It’s what I’m made to do. I have no choice. Liam knows and understands that, even if few others do.”

Yshotha glared from Liam’s beautiful eyes. It made her sick.

“Now here’s the sticky wicket, at least for you. Let’s just say, on an off chance, you survive Liam and me. That’s when your problems really begin. Because the moment my soul disappears to nothing, Brighid will find you. And not even Maeve or your precious damned Lilith can help you then. You take her Keepers, she returns the favor tenfold.”

Yshotha continued to glare. Callie continued to waste precious oxygen.

“I see you take my meaning. Now let me tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going leave him, and this city, alone. And if I hear of your presence in any other city, I’ll send the others to finish what I started. You lay low in the Underworld until the End of Days. And then we finish this on a proper field, at the proper time.”

There was a long moment of uncertainty where they stared one another down. Callie could already feel the air leaving her lungs. She would begin drowning on absolutely nothing instead of fetid fountain scum any moment.

But so would Yshotha, and the demon knew it. He nodded.

“Good boy.” Callie followed the thread of light back the way she came, and pulled them out of the void, the world shifting. “Stay back!” she yelled, as soon as the courtyard coalesced around them once more.

Liam exhaled, eyes closing, and she felt Yshotha’s presence leave his body. She sagged with relief. It was nearly over. There was just one last thing to take care of.

Liam’s hands touched her bare arms. “Callie?”

She continued to sag until her head rested on his chest. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Liam tried a low laugh. “Never going to happen, Keeper.”

The shouting started behind her, as she thought it might. Unfortunately, she didn’t react in time. She was simply too weak, between her two struggles with the demon and interactions with Brigitte.

Callie pushed herself to her feet, turning in time to see Chase level his shotgun right at her. “This won’t kill you permanently,” he said, “but at least I won’t have to see you anymore.”

He pulled the trigger. But not before Donal leapt in front of her. He went down without a sound.

Time slowed, almost stopped. Callie ran for Donal, screaming. Liam flew past her and shoved Chase against the nearest wall so hard Chase’s head slammed against it.

“Hang on,” Callie breathed. “I’ve got you, Donny. Just hang on.” She pulled his shirt open with frantic hands. There was so much blood—too much. His heart jackrabbited against her hand, pumping more out. Somehow, she would have enough left in her to heal him, even if it killed her. “Stay with me.”

Donal pushed her hand away from his chest. “Don’t.”

Callie stared at him. “What?”

“It’s okay.” His breath shook, but he smiled. “It’s not so bad, you know?”

She looked deep into his eyes, and knew the truth. “You really did forgive Eva.”

“I never blamed her. I don’t blame you.”

And then he was gone, soft as a sigh.

Callie looked up from her dead friend, from the hot blood washing her hands. Liam’s eyes were full of silent sympathy while he pressed his forearm across Chase’s throat. How could she have not seen the truth before? Donny had forgiven Eva, but Chase had never forgiven her.

Because she’d been so focused on the hunt—and Liam—she’d been oblivious to all else.

Something else Brigitte said stuck with her, then her first conversation with Yshotha came back to her in a rush. The final pieces, at last. She stood, hands dripping. Chase followed her approach with wary, hateful eyes.

Callie stopped just behind Liam. “How many, Chase?”

For a moment surprise superseded hate. “What?”

“When I was off having a chat with Brigitte, dying by inches, she mentioned Keepers that were lost. Then there was that lovely talk I had with Yshotha. Buried in all its posturing was the lasting impression more than one Keeper had been visiting. Liam’s dream supports my theory.”

“And?”

“Far as I knew, Eva was the only one gone. I’m still kicking, despite your best efforts. So I need to know how many Keepers are lost. What’s the official count?”

Liam slowly released Chase from his chokehold, moving out of Callie’s path. Together they waited for the answer.

Callie’s temper snapped.
“How many, Chase?”

“Seven,” he answered, almost before she finished shouting. “Seven.”

Liam had been right to get out of the way. Callie simply stared at Chase while her shocked mind came to terms with this new information. Then she hit him so hard the back of his head smacked against the brick wall. She grabbed him by the jacket and smashed him against the wall again. “Nineteen Keepers.” Again. “Fifty-four contingents.” And again. “Those are two of the very few things that stand between humanity and total annihilation. And you would put that in jeopardy over a
grudge?”

“What about you?” Chase shot back. “You act like the fate of the entire human race lies on your shoulders alone. And for what? So you don’t have to be one of them? So you can hold yourself apart?”

Callie glared. “My reasons have nothing to do with you.”

“They have everything to do with me.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve talked. I stood around like a chump, waiting for you to come to your senses.”

“So what happens? In fifty years, and I still look the same, and I’m still hunting? How long would it take for the resentment to come back? For you to start hating me again because I can do what you cannot?”

“Does humanity have fifty years, Cal?”

“Thanks to you? Probably not.”

“Then why, really?”

She had no choice. What she’d spared him from when he was eighteen with the light of the hunt in his eyes, she gave him now with both barrels. “I don’t love you.”

“And him?”