Demon Marked (39 page)

“No, no. Just kill him. And we'll finish the sacrifice before the Guardians come.”

“Of course, Madelyn.” Her voice was flat. “How should I do it?”

The demon pursed her lips, her gaze running the length of Nicholas's body. “So many possible ways. But I can't ask anything complicated of a halfling and expect it to be done right. So let's keep it simple: Break his neck. Then come back here and lie down again, so that we can finish this ritual.”

Without hesitation, Ash stepped forward. Over the sick beating of his heart, he held her gaze, tried to let her know that this decision was right. Anything to keep her from the frozen field. Anything to bring her a few steps away from Madelyn, where maybe, maybe, he could think of some way to give her time, to help her escape.

“Just make sure you kiss me first,” he said.

A sad little smile curved her lips, the first real expression he'd seen. She paused, midstep. “Madelyn, when I'm breaking his neck, should I twist to the left or to the right?”

“What does it matter? To the left.”

“My left or his left?”

“His. You idiot.”

“I am just trying to be precise as I carry out your orders,” Ash said, and this time her eyes narrowed slightly, in the same way she had when they'd trained together and she was considering her next strike. “There are several vertebrae in the neck. Which one should I aim to snap? I've never killed a man in this way before.”

“I don't care. The third.”

“Oh.” Ash's smile turned slightly apologetic. “I'm sorry, Nicholas. I have to ask you to face away from me before I can break your neck, because I first have to feel along your spine and count your vertebrae. I must find the location of the third, you see. I cannot disobey her.”

What was she doing? Simply delaying?

“Are you delaying, halfling?” Madelyn's voice filled with threat.

“Obeying,” Ash corrected. The crimson glow of her eyes faded, and through the dusk, her gaze sought Nicholas's. “I know that as long as I am in the process of carrying out your orders, I am obeying—and that in this sort of bond, it is not the completion of the task that matters. All that matters is that I am acting to fulfill it. So even if one of us dies before I finish, I am not reneging on our bargain.”

No, not simply delaying. Trying to tell him—

“Are you trying to tell Nicholas to kill you?” Madelyn's laugh rang out over the field again. “Answer me truthfully.”

“I'm not,” Ash said. “I know he would not, even though it would stop the ritual.”

He wouldn't have hurt her for any reason. She had to know that. What did she need from him, then?

“Are you telling him to kill
me
? Answer me truthfully.”

“No such words have passed my lips. That would be disobeying. I only obey, as I walk to him now with the intention of finding his third vertebrae.” Her gaze fell to the grenade in his hand, lifting to meet his eyes again. “I would never disobey.”

Oh, Ash.
He realized now that she wanted him to throw it toward Madelyn as soon as she reached him, and hope that the distance—and a small, ruined wall—would be enough to shield them both. A desperate, last-ditch attempt . . . that didn't have a chance. Madelyn was too quick. She could be halfway across the field before the toss he aimed landed at her feet.

When the explosion failed to destroy Madelyn, Ash would refuse to kill him, and she would be lost to the frozen field. Only the miracle of the Guardians' arrival might stop any of it.

Nicholas wouldn't count on a miracle to save her.

“Stop,” he said. His throat had thickened, his lungs filled with burning lead. He pushed the grenade into his pocket, held up his empty hands. “Stop, Ash. I'll come to you. I'll let you kill me of my free will.”

“What?” Horror filled Ash's face. “Nicholas, no.”

“I can't bear knowing what will happen if you do this.” Hoarse truth. He stepped over the low wall. “I just want to kiss you. Just let me kiss you, one last time. It won't break the Rules. It won't bring the Guardians to kill you. Madelyn,
please
.”

“No, Nicholas. You have to—”

“Be quiet, halfling.” Madelyn regarded him through narrowed eyes. “In exchange for a kiss, you'd let her kill you?”

“I'd let her kill me for less than that, but if I'm to die, I want the kiss.”

“Why not ask to fuck her in the mud like a pig? I'd let you. I remember a time when it would have been fitting.”

“I remember when I had a mother worthy of the name.”

“Ah, yes.” Something in Madelyn's eyes shifted. Nicholas recognized that look. He wouldn't know if it was a lie or truth, but it would be designed to hurt him. “She was a lucky find—young, beautiful, and
so
unhappy. It's always such a hassle to arrange for a death, but she walked to hers. That holiday in Brighton, Nicky, do you remember? One early morning I was strolling along the beach, and I saw her strolling into the sea. I watched her stroll farther and farther out . . . until it was done, and she began to float back in.”

“You're lying.”

“Am I? I still have her body in my cache. So fresh, so beautiful—and still dripping with seawater. I wondered, What could possess such a woman to walk into the ocean? So I followed her scent to your rented cottage, where both you and your father still lay sleeping, and found the note. She just couldn't live with either of you anymore, Nicky.”

No. A demon's lies, piled on. Maybe his mother had accidentally drowned, and Madelyn had taken advantage. But the rest was simply too much.

“Produce the note, then. Of course you vanished it into your cache. You wouldn't have left any evidence where it could be found.”

“I burned it.”

Now that was a pathetic lie, and he let his disdain harden his face, his smile. “So I know the truth, then.”

“What does it matter, anyway?” Madelyn hissed. “Do we have an agreement? You get one kiss—and you keep your hands out of your pockets while you do. She can't touch you until the kiss is done, then you give her permission to do anything she likes without breaking the Rules. Then I'll order her to kill you. And she will, with no more clarifications or delays. Is that understood, Ashmodei?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and the despair and fear in the answer cut him deep. Already seeing herself in the frozen field. Thinking that he'd completely bungled the one chance they'd had.

He crossed the distance to her, coming up against her hard enough to send her stumbling back. Catching her face between his hands, he moved with her—closer to Madelyn, who watched with a twisted smile.

But for this moment, he would shove the demon from his mind. There was only Ash, looking up at him. There was only the trembling of her mouth, the desperation as her gaze searched his.

“Believe in me,” he said softly.

His lips caught hers as she nodded, and there was only her sweet heat, the softness of her mouth. Only her surprise when he could no longer remain gentle, but hard and demanding. Only the squish of mud as she fell back beneath the force of his kiss.

Closer to Madelyn.

He judged the distance between Ash and Madelyn. God, he'd have to be fast. Angling his head, he kissed her more deeply, forcing Ash into a half-turn. Any closer, and Madelyn might step away. It had to be now.

But first, one more second with her. He gentled the kiss—he wanted her to remember him like this. Not pushing, not shoving her around, not
using
her . . . but this.

He lifted his head, and smiled at her. “I think all the delaying worked, Ash, because here they come.”

Ash's brows pushed together in confusion, then her eyes flared with sudden hope. From the corner of his eye, he saw Madelyn's swords appear. Saw her turn her back to them, searching the skies.

He leapt.

His chest slammed into Madelyn's back, sent her stumbling forward. He hooked an arm around her neck. She froze.

“Ash, kill—”

His hand slapped over her mouth.

His chest heaving, he waited, making certain. His hold was secure, standing behind her with his left forearm crushing her throat and his right hand over her mouth. She couldn't shake him off without breaking the Rules. And as long as his hand prevented her from speaking, she couldn't give Ash an order.

Madelyn was caught.

A harsh, disbelieving laugh boiled up from deep in his gut. God. After twenty fucking years, he had the demon right where he wanted her.

He looked at Ash, laughed again. Shock, joy, and hatred aimed at Madelyn—they were a gorgeous mix. “Do you have a weapon?”

Even as Ash shook her head, Madelyn's swords vanished. Not taking any chances. And Nicholas couldn't move his hand from her mouth, not even for a moment.

He fought the sinking in his stomach. All right. He'd known this might happen. He'd kept the grenade for this reason, as a fail-safe to keep Madelyn in line. Now, they had to count on the Guardians. He'd wait here with Madelyn while Ash made a run for the nearest phone. It wouldn't take long.

“Ash, reach into my pocket, give me the grenade—”

He broke off as a leathery membrane slithered against his chest. Madelyn's wings formed, snapped wide—not hurting him, not trying to dislodge him, not breaking the Rules. Still, he didn't like it.

They flapped once, twice. Though Madelyn couldn't speak, the intention was clear: She was going up, and Nicholas could hold on if he wanted to.

Ash's eyes widened. “Nicholas, let go. Let go now!”

Not in a million fucking years. Not when her soul depended on Madelyn's silence. He'd hang on even if the trip took him all the way to Hell.

He felt Madelyn's laugh against his hand—and his arm was almost yanked from the socket as she launched straight up. Ash's scream of rage and fear followed them, ripping through the night, then drowned in the rush of air, the slap of wings. Madelyn dove. Nicholas's weight shifted, almost broke his hold.
Jesus.
His right leg caught her waist, gave him another anchor. In his pocket, the hard bulge of the grenade dug into his thigh.

The wind whipped her hair into his eyes, his face. He could barely see anything below, just darkness beneath them. Darkness . . . and a faint crimson glow. Ash, racing along the ground, tracking their flight.

Madelyn laughed against his hand again. Calling in her swords, she dove—toward Ash. Oh, fuck no.

Without hesitation, Nicholas tightened his hold on Madelyn's mouth, his leg at her waist, and unhooked his arm from her throat. He shoved his hand into his pocket. Yanking the pin with his teeth, he released the safety lever. How many seconds? Three? The dark ground rushed toward them—and Ash was there, Ash with no weapons to defend herself against Madelyn's swords.

He wrapped his arm around Madelyn's chest, shoved his fist against her heart.

At least it would be like this, knowing Ash was safe. That she had nothing left to fear. He wished he could have given her more.

He hoped that crazy Guardian hadn't given him a dud—

 

The explosion burst through Ash's head, an agonizing crack through her ears . . . and then only a faint, ringing silence. Her scream echoed in it, a silent eruption of pressure that squeezed her chest into nothing. She ran, but not fast enough to catch him.

The impact into the ground vibrated against her feet. Nicholas, on top of Madelyn—maybe she'd broken his fall. Maybe her body had shielded his from the shrapnel. Maybe there was hope.

But she couldn't feel a heartbeat, and her scream echoed in the empty silence again when she separated him from the mess that had once been a demon. Hauling him to her chest, she tried to breathe life into him, only tasted blood and death.

Oh, God. He should have let go.

She couldn't let him go. Even now, though someone was coming, a white light through the darkness. Probably humans, investigating the explosion. They could have Madelyn, wings and all, and the Guardians would cover up the truth somehow. She'd take Nicholas, and she'd . . .

She didn't know. Nothing seemed to matter now.

A touch at her shoulder. She could feel the vibration of a heartbeat now, though it wasn't the one she wanted, the punctuated hum of a voice through the silence. The white light grew brighter, washing out the red glow cast over his skin.

She looked up into Taylor's horrified face. Taylor's lips moved, and Ash realized the glow was coming from the Guardian, brighter now, impossible to look at.

Ash only wanted to see Nicholas, anyway.

Taylor sank to her heels on the opposite side of his body. She touched his forehead, and the light was everywhere except in the blackness of Taylor's eyes. Her voice hummed again in the silence, and echoed in Ash's head.

And impossibly, impossibly, though he had no breath to speak, no life to shape the words, his voice, his reply—

Taylor's laugh came from nowhere, everywhere.
Well, this is my first, so let's hope I get this right. Ash, stand back.

She did, not even moving but suddenly outside the light, looking into the blinding brightness, still holding Nicholas's body to her chest. Her heart seemed filled to bursting, aching with joy that couldn't have possibly come so close after the devastation, but she was overwhelmed with it, the highest up after the lowest down.