Demon Chained (Shadowfae Chronicles) (25 page)

It's all I've got the stomach for. Who knew?

The cane falls, clattering to the floor in a splash of green blood. I forget it and run for the corner. The lamp's in one piece, cool and smooth in my fingers, and for a moment I close my eyes in unholy prayer. If I could wish myself to Kane's right now, I would . . .

A strangled cry awakens me. Jewel's staring at me, her face ghost-white. She's still bleeding, her fingers smearing in the sticky red mess on the floor as she crawls towards me.

Remorse zings wet in my nose, a horrid almost-sneeze. She's wounded, vulnerable. I'm used to living in a body that's falling apart. She's not. It'd be best to smoke her now and run.

But I promised her no names. It's the least I can do.

I run to her and slide my arm under hers, drag her to her feet. "C'mon, gotta run."

Her blood slicks on my skin, warm, intimate. She stares at me, her chin trembling, and deliberately she pushes me away to stand on her own.

Well, shit. That hurts.

My fingers itch with frustration, and I swallow the damn guilt before it embarrasses me. I'm doing my best here. What the hell does she want from me?

Maybe a little honesty? How d'ya think that'd go down?

On the floor, Delilah stirs and moans. At my feet, Joey's shiny fingers jerk. No time for me to feel shitty. Gotta run.

My grip clenches on the lamp until my palms hurt. "Gavain, c'mon, let's skip it."

Joey groans, and his snaky neck quivers. Delilah's eyes snap open, burning green.

Already, Gavain's struggling to hold her down. Veins stand out on his dusky skin, his muscles tight in bloody sweat. He's ethereal, beautiful, some secret struggling flame brought to life in his spirit by the fight.

His ruby gaze meets mine, searing, and he jerks his head at the door, damp cocoa hair stuck on his cheeks. "Get out of here. I can handle it. Go!"

My brain convulses, sluggish. I don't understand him. I don't know what Delilah promised him that he wanted so bad, and what the fuck any of it has to do with me. All I know is, he's saved my ass for the second time and I still want to rip his skin off.

And I can't just leave him here.

But Jewel can't stay. She's already bleeding and bereft and hellbound because of me. I owe her more than I owe him. And some stupid part of me still wants to make it up to her, to hold her close and explain everything.

As if she'd listen.

As if it could possibly make what I'm doing to her okay.

She stares at me, and for a fleeting instant, her gaze softens, before it freezes over. "Let's go."

I want to take her hand, help her. But I don't. I just turn away from her, and together but apart, we run.

***

Chapter Twenty-Five

My chest burned with unholy fire as I ran, half-stumbling to keep upright. Swelling compressed my ribs, almost too tight for me to breathe, and every movement fired fresh agony. I clutched the wound, trying to take the pressure off, but it only made it worse. Blood and caustic green ooze spilled over my hand. Already my throat swelled inside, and my eyelids felt puffed up and gritty.

Snakeshifter venom. Great.

Behind me, Tam yanked the doors closed and jammed the hall table under the handles to slow them down for a few seconds. I hitched in shallow breaths, trying to stay calm. It's okay, Jewel. Just a little venom. A wee wasp sting. Smoke into the lamp and it'll be gone, just like the cuts and the brassy bruise on your wrist. Abracadabra, the fabulous regenerating lamp.

Only the next time I smoked, Tam might never let me out. And when I did come out, it'd be in this Kane's foul demon den, brimstone and hellfire and whatever else. I'd take the poison. Right now, I didn't care if I never smoked again.

Tam skidded beside me as we stumbled down the stairs three at a time. He had wounds of his own, dark blood smeared everywhere, but it didn't seem to slow him down. Probably, he couldn't feel it anyway. "You okay?"

"Fine." My lungs ached, my throat swelling too tight. It was hard to talk.

We reached the bottom, and my legs wobbled as we scarpered along the corridor. Poison leached under my skin, into my blood, through my muscles. My body felt inflated like a water balloon. Lights shone, dazzling, my eyeballs tight and juddering. My lips felt twice their normal size, my tongue thick and dry, filling my mouth and choking me.

Cackles and shrieks veered around us, echoing near and far. Slick fairy fingers brushed my skin, luring or threatening. We'd tripped the hostile security systems. Or maybe I was imagining it. I couldn't tell where the sounds were coming from.

The French doors we'd entered by loomed, and I fumbled at the handle with hot sausage fingers. The door popped open, slowly, as if I dreamed. My pulse banged in my ears at a million miles an hour. My stomach lurched, and I fell.

"Fuck off, ya little shits." Tam fumbled in his pockets and hurled his shiny round light-bulb thing at the floor. Glass smashed, and grey steam clouded high. More poison, not for me this time. Guttural screams tore the air ragged, those shambling faeborn things howling and scratching at the walls in agony. I didn't feel sorry for them.

I scrabbled at the floor, my hands weak and wet. My breath wheezed, woefully inadequate, and my head swam sickly like I'd drunk too many tequilas. I couldn't smell anything. Couldn't feel my fingertips. Couldn't get up.

Dimly, I felt Tam grab my arm, lift my hips, try to pull me up. "Darlin', I can't carry you. You've gotta walk."

"Can't." My tongue couldn't form the word, and instead I made some helpless noise. I wanted to thrash, to get him off me, but all I could do was shudder and froth at the mouth.

Insectoid fae laughter burbled nearer, along with the patter of sticklike feet.

"Goddamn it. I promised you. Don't make me." Tam dragged me out onto the porch, his grip distant around my numb, swollen arms.

I felt like laughing at him. Your promise means nothing. Don't pretend you care what happens to me. Just leave me here and go to your precious Kane. You've got what you wanted.

He slammed the door, and more glass shattered. Sharp fragments kissed my cheeks, butterfly wings. My eyelids swelled shut, and I sneezed and choked at the same time, wet warmth splashing.

"Christ. I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can do." A warm kiss, his breath soft on my bursting lips. My lungs convulsed, and silently I screamed, but it didn't stop him saying it. "I'll see you soon. Jewel, get in the lamp, please."

A flash of bright sunburn, and darkness.

***

Delilah's claws slash the air behind Gavain's head. She yells, the horrid stink of hellfire. Gavain screeches and leaps off her, muscles spring-tight. The sudden lightness throws her off balance, and she skids across the floorboards, her claws digging splintered ruts as she scrabbles for a hold.

Gavain jams his knee into Joey's squirming throat, and fumbles in his back pocket. His breath scratches his mouth, anticipating the slice of shattered glass in his palm, but the bottle's not broken, and triumph cleans his wits like a wet washcloth, making them shiny and fresh.

He rips the cork from the hellsauce vial with his teeth, sludge crunching. He seals his thumb over the end, the caustic bubbles searing his skin, and jams his fist into the bleeding dent in Joey's head. He spits the cork out. "In his fucking brains, bitch. He'll last five seconds in hell like this. You want your snake boy chewed to bits?"

Delilah howls on all fours, at bay like a purple-furred wolf, her long teeth dripping slime and fury.

Laughter bubbles sweet champagne in Gavain's throat. He's got her. Bloodlust burns in his balls, makes his cock hard, thickens his guts with hate. Shiny fucking Joey, in bleeding pieces, chew meat from his fingers and swallow. Teach him to slash at my Tam.

He flexes one arm around Joey's snaky throat and drags him towards the door.

Delilah snarls, impotent. "I'll peel your skin off with a toothpick, fairy slime!"

"Whatever." He backs out, dragging Joey in his wake, and the door slams shut. Along the dark corridor, he jabs an elbow into the pretty glass fairy and she shatters, a rain of tinkling shards.

Staircase. Gavain's arm muscles bunch, and Joey hits the landing below with a wet green crunch. Limp, barely conscious.

One bound, and Gavain hits the carpet beside him. Joey gurgles poison. Gavain slides his blistered thumb from the vial, wrenches Joey's scaly jaw open, and pours bubbling brown hellsauce down his throat.

Joey's eyes flicker wide. He jerks, a muffled shriek ripping from his chest, and he fades in and out like a ghost, struggling to stay cohesive.

But there's no fighting it. Gavain knows that. He clamps Joey's jaw shut with gleeful fingers. Joey shudders one last time, and his shape flickers. Blinks. Vanishes.

Gavain tosses the vial away to shatter against the wall, and scampers away.

***

She's gone. The lamp's heavier and colder, kinda like my heart. Moisture condenses on the brass as I watch. She's in there, cursing me. But I've no time to wallow in self-pity. I just broke a canister of anti-rap all over a bunch of screaming things. Now everyone knows I'm here.

I sprint into the globe-lit garden and splash through the water feature towards the wall. Fibers pop and sting in my thighs, but my joints are holding up okay. In the distance, a rough troll yell rings out, answered by others, and boots bang on concrete.

I thud into the wall, bricks ripping my shoulder raw, and crouch in the safety of warm shadow. My pulse sprints, darkly alive. Sweat runs hot and sweet on my body, and I wish she were beside me, that crazy smile lighting her face, instead of squeezed into a cold and dusty trap, waiting for hell.

Give it up, Tam. Think. Hide or run?

If I drop into the street, chances are they'll see me. But hiding isn't easy when you stink like a day-old roadkill. The commotion barrels closer. Maybe I'll take my chances with the wall.

I creep towards the corner, my feet sinking into parched garden soil. Damp tendrils of foliage drag over my face. My nose twitches at a hint of flowers. Jasmine. The lusty scent of Jewel, rich and arousing. I peer up into the darkness. The vine's crawling all over the wall, a foot thick and tangled like green noodles. I pick a white blossom and crush it in my fingers. Perfume rises. If even I can smell it, the entire garden must reek of this stuff.

Troll footsteps thunder on the verandah, and swiftly I burrow into the scratchy jasmine vine and stay there.

Dust showers, scratching my eyeballs. I don't dare breathe or blink. Every twitch is agony, every innocuous drip of blood from my injuries suddenly a horrid itch that I burn to scratch. Beyond the thick lattice of vine, hulking shadows lumber on the creaking timber verandah. Trollish grunts hurl back and forth, and an ice-white flashlight dazzles me, sweeping left to right.

I clutch my girl tighter, the lamp's cold brass soothing my palms. I wonder if she knows I'm holding her. I remember how she shrank from me, that cold, disgusted look in her eyes, and it etches welts in my heart. For a while, I think she truly liked me.

Not much longer, darlin'. I promise. One way or the other.

The flashlight scours the garden one more time, glinting on wet rocks, darting insects, burbling water. I fight impatience. Come on, dickhead. Nothing to see here.

The beam pauses, and flicks back.

My guts turn to boiling mud. I can't see for the glare, and I feel like I'm shaking uncontrollably even though the vines don't move.

The troll snorts like a hungry pig, sniffing for me. I bite my lip and concentrate madly on jasmine, as if that'll help me stink of flowers. I think of kissing Jewel, her warm so-female body flavoring mine, the scent of her hair filling my lungs, the tempting fragrance of her sex drowning my senses. There was magic in that moment. Maybe it can help me now.

Finally, the light reels away. Footsteps. He's gone.

She's safe, for a moment longer.

I crawl from my flowery hide, blossom scattering. The corner where the walls meet is dark and rough-formed, just the way I like it. I've got a few seconds, so I rip my T-shirt and tie the ragged ends around the lamp's handle so I don't have to hold it. The lid's jammed on pretty tight. With luck—and I'm fucking due for some of that—it won't fall.

My spongy fingertips rupture on the bricks as I climb, and more than once I lose my grip and slide. Wads of skin rip off my hands and stick in the cracks like bloody cheese. My shoulders creak and complain, threatening to pop out any second. Fuck. I used to be good at this. Glad my girl's not watching this time.

At the top, I rest my cheek against the warm brick for a moment, acid tearing inside my limbs. No time to rest. I wriggle over and drop into the dark space between the wall and the bushes. Sticks scratch, and I hit the ground with a jolt and a splat of grime. I grit my teeth, but after a few seconds where no one kicks me in the teeth or rips my arms from their sockets, I relax and fumble for the lamp. Safe, in one piece, the lid still on. We're away.