Deliver Me from Temptation (26 page)

He reached beneath his shirt, pulling the cross necklace out. It hummed in his hand, the power infused in it calling to him, begging him to use it.

It wasn’t Logan Ganelon wanted. Oh, Logan was sure the sadist would enjoy bringing his old friend’s descendent low, but in the end it was the relic he craved. A key, really. The way for his armies to breech Haven. To cave to Ganelon’s demands would be akin to betraying his brothers.

Logan fisted his hand back around the necklace, tucked it beneath his shirt.

If what he did next was the price for Jessica’s life, then so be it.

He was too late.

Logan stepped over the threshold, taking in the room in one quick sweep. The desk, the two empty chairs, the husk of human skin and the merker—probably this Damon Mike was going on about—standing over his woman. And Jessica, God, Jessica, writhing on the floor.

Possessed. He could smell the evil on her.

A demon. Mixing, melding, choking out the part of her that was
his
Jessica.

Over
my
dead
body.

Logan stormed into the room, ready to take the merker by its throat and toss him through the boarded window behind the desk.

Three strides and six feet from his goal, something smashed into him from the side, sending him reeling into the wall. Logan’s fingers clenched the gritty cement blocks, shaking his head.

That blow had been more than just physical. His entire body throbbed and his head felt like it had come face to face with an anvil.

Someone started to clap.

“Applaud, Damon. Applaud for our hero of the hour. And I do mean
our
hero.”

Logan straightened, wiping the blood from beneath his nose, twisting his head to view the man who stepped into the room.

Ganelon. Must have been lying in wait. Not that Logan hadn’t expected him to be near, but he must admit the sneakiness of the attack took him by surprise.

And
why
is
that, Logan? He is called the betrayer. Stands to reason he has trouble with things such as fair fights and honor.

“Did you bring it?”

“I brought the cross,” he replied, but made no move to hand it over. A bargaining chip was only so good as long as one still held it.

A flicker of annoyance creased the perfect skin of Ganelon’s face. Yeah, for being one of the original twelve, he looked well preserved. Unremarkable, perhaps, but definitely still in his prime.

“Do you really think it wise to test me?”

“No, but I am not ignorant. Call your demon off first. And your prodigy,” he added, glancing warily at the merker who rose when Ganelon arrived and stood, feet planted in a fighting stance, between him and Jessica.

“Damon will not interfere, will you my son?”

The merker, Damon, curled his lips back, his eyes locking with Logan’s. Damon held the stare for a long moment, a split second of which Logan swore something shifted in the bottomless black gaze, but then the merker nodded and shifted two steps to the side.

Okay, whoa. Had the merker purposefully placed himself between Ganelon and Jessica? If so, why? Logan could almost credit the man with being an independent player in this game if not for one thing: He was a merker. They were born, bred, and raised to serve their master, Ganelon.

Don’t analyze that now, first thing is seeing to Jessica’s safety.

“And now the demon,” he reminded Ganelon.

“Oh I think the demon is happy where it is, don’t you?”

Logan couldn’t help but chance a brief glance at where Jessica moaned and writhed on the floor. His distraction gave Ganelon the opening he’d been waiting for. A bolt of pure power split through the air. Logan dodged, but the hot burn of heat across his shoulder told him how close it was.

Logan immediately threw up a shield and pulled his knife. His father had once warned him that a shield would not fully stop Ganelon’s power, but it would take the edge off the hits. A moment later he was glad he’d acted quickly; Ganelon slung three rapid bolts of searing power at him, each one crackling furiously against his shields.

Logan lunged forward, his blade seeming to sing as it cut through the air. The aim was true but a split second before it could connect, Ganelon threw up his hand, energy sizzling like a shield in the path of Logan’s knife. Logan struck again, spinning around and lunging behind Ganelon’s quick defense, but the betrayer simply slid back and to the side, following through with his own blistering burn of power across Logan’s shields.

Twenty seconds later, with the raw power Logan had siphoned into his shields failing, and never even coming close to connecting with his knife, Logan had to admit that he was in some serious shit.

He had trained for this fight. Since childhood he’d known that as the last full-blooded Paladin, someday his duty might require him to face off against Ganelon. But, extended life spans aside, the truth was a Paladin was not immortal. The time away from His planes did eventually take their toll. In this, Ganelon had the advantage, his festered heart feeding off the dark planes of Hell which he now called home.

The betrayer wasn’t aging. But he had the wisdom and battle sense of a seasoned Paladin warrior.

And Logan was, quite simply, outgunned.

He did have one weapon Ganelon didn’t possess. One that, though it would not outright kill him with his Paladin heritage, should at least daze the bastard. Maybe then he could sink his knife into Ganelon where the heavenly forged blade could eat away at the betrayer’s blackened heart.

Despite his continual concern for Jessica, Logan had no problems calling on His light this time. Fear, worry, whether he walked away from this or not, none of that mattered. Only Jessica mattered. If he was to save her, then, quite simply, he must do this.

Fueled by determination to see his bond mate safe, the power roared through his being. The room exploded, light shattering every shadow within, the blast of illumination carrying into the warehouse, finding every crevice, every crack around the boarded-up windows, and spilling into the surrounding city.

That would take care of any other lingering creatures of Hell.

His satisfaction was short lived. From across the room, Jessica screamed, her entire body arching and jerking. Logan watched in horror as the light he’d cast continued to burn through her body, the unholy glow pouring through pores and eyes alike. Before he could fully comprehend what had happened the light extinguished, leaving her pale and listless as she slumped back to the floor.

For a second no one moved, but then the merker screamed, skidding across the floor as he dove to her side.

“You stupid fuck! What the hell did you think you were doing?” he demanded, even as his fingers pressed into the hollow of her throat.

“Oh, that was brilliant!” Ganelon clapped, laughing so hard he had to pause to brush a tear away. “Destroy the demon while your mate is tied to it. This is beautiful really.”

Logan shook his head. He understood what Ganelon was alluding to. But Ganelon was wrong.

Jessica was not dead. Nor was her soul lost. God would not allow it.

Logan clung to that thought as he fisted his knife, needing his faith more than ever. The Big Guy did not make fuck-ups like this. Maybe He gave Logan a human mate to test his faith. Or perhaps make him question his father’s arrogant belief that only a full Paladin could fight the war. But He would not go so far as to purge her soul from existence.

And if Jessica died while bound to the demon, then that’s what had happened.

Gone. All her beauty. All her passion. Gone. Forever. Never to be reached by him again.

It could not be true. Everything he did, everything he’d fought for, would be meaningless. Therefore he had to believe she was simply unconscious, withdrawn into herself as she had been after the attack in the garage. Though, damn it would be easier to believe if she moved. Just a small bit. Easier yet if that damn merker wasn’t fucking touching her.

He couldn’t wait for the merker’s verdict on a pulse though. Ganelon was still enjoying the moment, his maniacal laughter another needle against Logan’s last nerve. With a roar, Logan lunged across the expanse, his knife arching out in a sideswiping arch.

He honestly didn’t expect the knife to catch flesh, so when it did, bright blood spraying, he had to reorganize before following through.

Injured or not, Ganelon’s recovery was amazing. Logan didn’t even have time to blink before the blast of power hit him in the chest. It knocked him off his feet, throwing him halfway across the room, smacking into the desk as he fell.

He tried to sit up.

“Fuck!” he wheezed, his entire rib cage feeling like it was grinding into his spinal column, and that was after digging though his lungs. Worse, he couldn’t see. The room spun so bad he barely caught the movement of someone leaping across the expanse. He couldn’t miss the blast of power. It sizzled through the air, sucking the oxygen right out of the room.

He expected to die. Or rather, he expected the strike to completely knock him out, which, given the precarious situation he was in, was as good as dead. So when the sizzling ended and he wasn’t any worse off than before?

He forced an arm up, holding his head as if steadying it would stop the spinning of his world. The slight movement had his ribs screaming and the foul taste of copper rising in his throat.

Ganelon stood a few steps away, looking down at the ground. But he wasn’t looking at Logan. Logan followed his gaze, sucking in his breath when he saw the merker lying at Ganelon’s feet.

The implication of what Logan’s eyes told him seemed unimaginable.

The merker had taken the hit meant for him? Why?

Don’t think. Move.

Logan tried to roll over, push off the ground, but his arms collapsed underneath him, his energy having leached out with his hope.

He collapsed again, though somehow managed to scoot back, propping himself up against the heavy desk.

One chance, but only if he could get Ganelon close enough.

He watched warily as Ganelon touched his side, parting his shirt enough to get a good look at the cut. Not as deep as Logan had thought. Damn. “Now that wasn’t at all smart, junior.”

It was unclear to whom Ganelon was speaking exactly. The fallen merker or himself.

“Don’t you want the relic?” Logan asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood that had been collecting in the back of his throat.

Ganelon shook his head and scoffed. “You think you’re in a position to play your chips?”

“I’m not handing it over willingly, so if you want it you’re going to have to come and get it.”

“Okay,” Ganelon said as he stepped over his fallen son.

Logan waited for his chance. The moment Ganelon started to bend, his arm reaching for the chain around Logan’s neck, Logan slammed his arm around, aiming his knife for the unprotected underside of Ganelon’s armpit.

He never made it. As fast as he was, Ganelon was faster, his other hand snatching Logan’s in mid-motion.

“Really, boy. Did you think I wasn’t ready for that?” Ganelon asked, twisting Logan’s arm until the bones cracked, his nerves screaming so loud he lost control of his grip, his fingers opening so the knife fell uselessly to the floor.

Ignoring the pain radiating throughout his body, Logan swung with his other arm. This at least connected, but other than eliciting a slight grunt, it had no effect.

“And still you hold out hope, even when you’re as weak as a lowly human.”

Knowing he’d run out of options, Logan offered his last bargaining chip.

“Take me, take the cross. But let her go.”

Ganelon leaned in closer, his head cocking to the side. “You’d do that for a human? You’d give me your soul?”

“For hers? Yes.”

“Hmmm.” Ganelon’s fingers closed around the chain. His hand felt hot against Logan’s chilled skin.
From
spending
too
much
time
in
Hell’s fires? Or because I’m bleeding out internally?

“Now why would I make a bargain like that when I can have her soul, yours, and the relic?”

With a sharp movement Ganelon jerked on the chain, the metal biting into Logan’s neck, cutting deep and jerking him forward before it broke. Face twisted in rapture, Ganelon lifted the necklace, the central gem sparkling in the dim office lighting.

Logan waited. One second. Two.

Ganelon frowned, his brow drawing down in a deep vee as he caught the cross in his other hand, twisting it this way and that so the light cut through the yellow gem. His eyes widened, his nostrils pinching. “Citrine? This isn’t the key!”

“It is a key. Just not the one you wanted. And not one you can ever use. Not anymore.” Though it pained him, Logan forced himself to smile, leaning forward. “You’ll never be granted a way back into His holy realm.”

Ganelon’s face flashed from furious to cold as stone. He straightened, his fist unfurling from around the relic as he let it fall to the ground.

“So be it, but I can certainly send you there,” he said as he raised his glowing hand above his head.

***

He’s here.

Jessica had fought through the fog, clinging to the sound of Logan’s voice. A light in the dark fight she warred against the demon who wanted her soul. She’d used it as her anchor.

Had to tell him. Had to warn him.

Bait. That’s all she was. Her death or her damnation, didn’t matter, either would be used to break him.

She could not, would not let it happen. Her hatred had let the demon in. And though hunting the evil that stole those like Julia from this world might have once seemed worth her own death, it was not worth Logan’s.

It was at that point Jessica felt the demon’s hold begin to slip. Realizing that Logan and her feelings for him held hope for her salvation, she’d clung to them, fighting harder. But the demon was strong, its lock on her anchored by years of guilt, then anger, and eventually cold hatred. She began to despair, thinking she’d never be free of it—that eventually it would wear her down and take over—when all of a sudden a bright light exploded around her.

His
light
. Jessica could feel the demon shrink from it and she cried out in welcome. Allowing it to fill her until she was lighter than air, a blissful peace settled into her that drove away the tendrils of anger, hatred, and evil.

In those moments, she knew she was in a place most humans never reached, at least not in their lifetimes. The human body was simply not made to contain such power. And though the thought that she might be dead was alarming, she wanted to stay. Except she couldn’t. A voice, a sliver of memory, whatever it was, she knew she wasn’t meant to be there. Not quite yet.