Demon's Daughter (Demon Outlaws) (27 page)

“How could the priestesses have strayed so far from the goddesses’ teachings?” Airie asked in dismay. “My mother observed their rituals until the day she died. She never taught that the goddesses were perfect, but said they bring new life to the world, as mortal women do, and for that alone, we should respect and honor them.” Airie looked at him. “Perhaps I could talk to Mamna. Try to find out what went wrong.”

She was such an innocent. And a little too honest for what he was about to suggest.

“It’s too late for talking.” He stopped playing with the hem of her shift and braced himself. “Blade and I have a plan for fighting the demons when they return.”

“I can call rain against them,” Airie offered. “That will chase them away, just as it did before.”

“Chasing them away is no longer enough. They will return. The time has come to take a stand. The Godseekers believe you’re a goddess, and we can use that to our advantage.”

She went still. “Go on.”

“Blade has gone to speak with them. He’ll tell them I’m willing to lead their army—which I am—and that I fight on your behalf.” Which he did. “We need you to speak with them, too, and persuade them that you are who they believe you to be.”

“You want me to pretend that I am a goddess so I can convince people to die fighting demons?” She folded her arms. “No.”

Dismay settled like a stone weight inside him. If he had not been so tired and overwhelmed he would have realized she did not know she was half goddess as well as half demon. A small-spirited, selfish part of him did not want her to discover it either. Its full meaning had not quite sunk in. When it did, he suspected their future together might not be as inevitable as he had assumed. The priestess had been partially correct about one other thing—it was not that he thought Airie could not be loyal to him. Rather, why should she wish to be his?

He did not know what to say, or how much to tell her, to win her support. Godseekers, who expected to be addressed by her, would soon descend on the saloon. He was bone-tired already from too little sleep, and he had another long night ahead of him. First, he had to persuade Godseekers to fight beside him rather than try to kill him.

Dismay turned to frustration. It was her life he was trying to protect now, even though turning her over to the demons would end this standoff for Freetown. He betrayed his own kind for her, and she did not understand. She was not mortal, and mortals owed her nothing.

He, however, would walk through fire for her.

“Have I ever asked so very much of you,” he said, “that you can’t find it in you to help me now when the people of Freetown need me the most?”

He might as well have slapped her. The hurt in her eyes made the sensation a thousand times worse.

“I’ll gladly help you save lives. But I’m half demon,” she said quietly. “Fighting them, driving them away, is one thing. Killing them seems wrong to me. I don’t want anyone to die, mortal or immortal. There must be another way.”

For her sake, he wished there was because he had never considered what a mixed heritage might mean to her. Killing demons was what he did, and what he would continue to do as long as they remained in the mortal world.

But he would not force his battles on Airie, or tear her in opposing directions.

“You don’t have to do or say anything,” Hunter said. “Make an appearance, that’s all I ask.”

She finally nodded, and some of the heavy weight inside him eased, but he saw the doubt lingering in her eyes. He took her in his arms. Whatever happened with the demons when night fell, he would make certain Airie played no real part in it.

What happened in the future, however, remained to be seen. He now knew who her father was, even though that was something else of which she was unaware.

That was good, because Hunter intended to kill him.

Chapter Sixteen

Steam rose from the muddy streets to disperse almost immediately in the dry desert air, the red earth cracking beneath the hot sun.

The creosote-soaked sidewalks had dried enough that they were no longer greasy, although treacherous pockets of water continued to pose a hazard to the inattentive.

Mamna drew the hood of a tan-colored canvas cloak forward so that her face was in shadow. The cloak was not for disguise, an impossible feat because of her deformity. She wore the cloak because her bald scalp and face burned quickly and required vigilant protection.

Snippets of conversation overheard on the streets told her many people held out hope that the rains would recur to save them from the next demon attack. She could have told them that goddess rain, falling in demon territory, would not withstand demon fire for long. The only thing that had saved Freetown from devastation already was the Demon Lord’s desire to possess the spawn. Once he had it, the lives of mere mortals would be forfeit.

Mamna, however, was no mere mortal. She counted on enough strength remaining in her amulet to protect her from demons until she reached the Borderlands.

She was too easily recognized to leave the city through the gates, and she wanted no one to know of her departure. Several hours remained until sundown. Once night fell she would escape through the tunnel and put as much distance as possible between her and Freetown while the demons were occupied. Before that, she would leave the Slayer a parting gift.

The Godseekers had made their presence in the city widely known. They had taken shelter in a four-house rooming complex near the city’s outer wall, one mostly used by teamsters accompanying the larger wagon trains. Several requests for a meeting had been sent to her. Until now, she had ignored them.

Mamna found the entrance to the rooming house complex and walked through the narrow, arched tunnel into the cobbled courtyard. It was almost empty.

She remained in the shadows as two people crossed the open area ahead of her. She recognized the crippled saloonkeeper from the establishment where she had met with the Slayer. A woman accompanied him, pretty and probably younger than she appeared, but who nevertheless had the hard-edged look of an experienced whore.

It seemed Mamna was not the only one who had business with the Godseekers this day. She was willing to bet that the saloonkeeper was here on behalf of the Slayer, because as far as she knew, whores did not make house calls to public rooming houses with notoriously thin walls.

The saloonkeeper and the whore entered the house on the far side of the courtyard.

Suspicion about the Demon Slayer’s activities had her traversing the uneven cobblestones after them, then pausing to listen at the outer door of the house they had entered. She heard voices inside, but they sounded muffled and far away. Cautiously, she eased open the front door.

The voices, more distinguishable now, drifted down from the second level and included the higher pitched tones of a woman arguing with someone. Several doors opened and closed, there was movement, then more voices drifted down to her. A flight of stairs facing the entry rose a dozen steps to meet a small landing, then turned to the right and continued upward and out of sight. She stopped at the base of the stairwell, resting one boot on the first rise, and deliberated as to whether or not to proceed. As far as anyone knew, she still ruled Freetown. She could come and go as she pleased and answered to no one. That did not mean someone would not take the opportunity to kill her if it arose, and no one knew she was here.

But what was the Slayer up to?

She took another step.

“There aren’t enough of us,” a man said above her. “It’s too soon.” Another, quieter voice rumbled low in a response she could not quite capture. “The Demon Slayer has made it clear he doesn’t share our beliefs. He’s prepared to fight demons, but not to lead an army against them.” A second, longer pause followed. “If he gives me the amulet I will lead them myself. We serve the goddess, not the Slayer.” Then, “Let me think about it,” and, “Yes, I know time’s running out.”

She did not recognize the speaker’s voice. It was not that of Fly, the Godseeker who had approached her. As far as she knew, Fly was dead.

A door clicked open, then footsteps descended the stairs, and she scurried into the parlor where she pressed against the wall beside the door. She watched three people depart—the saloonkeeper, a younger man, and the whore.

One man remained behind. He turned to go back upstairs.

She stepped into the hall and pushed back the hood of her cloak so that it draped around her hunched shoulders. “Godseeker. I would like a word with you.”

He was a tall man, and as handsome as she would expect of a northerner, although his dark blond hair carried more than a hint of gray. A familiar amber stone glinted against the open throat of an unbuttoned white linen shirt, the shirttail untucked from a pair of thigh-hugging, faded blue trousers as if he’d dressed hastily. He wore a shoulder holster with a very expensive pearl-handled pistol.

His eyes were slate gray and very direct. “Mamna, I assume?”

Irritation made her sharp. “It would be difficult to assume otherwise, given my appearance. Your name would be…?”

“Pillar.”

“Pillar,” she said. “Can we speak in private?”

He ushered her into the parlor and opened the shutters a crack to allow for more light before closing the door.

Mamna chose a black hrosshair sofa to sit on, then removed the heavy tan cloak and laid it next to her on the roughly cushioned seat. She had her own pistol in its pocket for protection, and she wanted it close in case she should need it.

The room possessed faded wallpaper that puckered at the seams and lifted in several places where it joined the ceiling. The woodwork around the long window and door had been painted too many coats of white without proper stripping beforehand. The overall impression was one of clean and tidy neglect.

“I’ve already met with a Godseeker,” she began, in a preemptive effort to avoid any questions as to why a priestess had seemed so reluctant to meet with the goddesses’ chosen. “His name is Fly. He spoke of an army. Is this correct?”

Pillar went to stand near the window, his gaze drawn to the courtyard outside as if he waited for something. Or someone.

“Fly went missing several weeks ago,” he said.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Pillar shrugged. “He was premature in discussing an army. Unfortunately, it’s not as well-organized as we’d hoped it to be when this moment arrived.”

She deliberately misunderstood what moment he meant. “This isn’t the first time the Demon Lord has used fire,” she said. “The other night was a test, nothing more.”

Pillar made a dismissive gesture with his hand, sounding impatient. At the very least he was distracted, and not as deferential to her as he should be.

“Not the fire. The goddess’s return. Not all the Godseekers are aware of it yet. Too many of us are spread throughout the northern mountains, and are isolated.”

“When you say
goddess
are you referring to the thief from the mountain?” Mamna asked. “The one the Demon Slayer was hired to bring to justice and now refuses to release to me?” She curled her lip in disdain. “She’s no more a goddess than you or I. She’s the demon spawn of a priestess.”

“I’ve seen her,” Pillar said. “I know a goddess when I see one. Female spawn don’t exist.”

Mamna pressed her palms flat against the tops of her thighs to resolve any telling movements that might reveal her intentions. Or her lies.

“How can you be so certain female spawn don’t exist?” she asked. “I agree it’s very unlikely for any spawn to survive beyond childbirth, and those born in mortal form would be an even greater enigma. But do you really think a priestess wouldn’t be made aware of a goddess’s presence? That the goddesses wouldn’t speak to me?”

Worry lines dragged at Pillar’s brow. Stubbornness remained. “I no longer know for certain what to think, other than that I saw a goddess with my own eyes.”

“You saw a spawn,” Mamna said. “You have been with a goddess, Pillar. You know what their presence is like, and how it feels to be touched by one. A demon is not so very different. This female spawn will have her father’s immortal presence to her. It’s part of what makes her dangerous, especially to mortal man.”

Pillar finally gave her his full attention. “The Slayer believes she is special.”

She kept the excitement from her expression. He had not quite accepted her argument, Mamna thought. Not yet. But he was close.

“She is special,” she replied, “and the Slayer knows why that is. The Demon Lord himself claims to be her father, which was why the Slayer was hired to bring her to me. I was then to turn her over to the Demon Lord.”

“If that’s true, why would the Slayer be willing to follow her?”

Real doubt entered his manner. She could hear it in his voice, and see it in the way the question filled his eyes.

“Is she beautiful?” Mamna asked.

Pillar nodded once, although as if reluctant to acknowledge it. “Exceedingly so.”

“The Slayer is mortal.” She pressed her advantage. “Is it so strange to think he, too, might fall under the spell of a beautiful woman, especially one who is half demon?”

“What if you’re wrong? What if she really is a goddess, sent by the others to lead the Slayer and the Godseeker army?” Thoughtfulness eased some of the worry lines around his eyes. “Have you seen her? How can you be so certain she’s a demon’s spawn?”

She was very close to success now. She pretended to examine a tear in the faded wallpaper, as if unwilling to concede he might be correct.

“No, I haven’t seen her,” she admitted. “But I’m certain if I did, I would know. I served the goddesses.”

“As did I.” Pillar again looked through the shutter’s slats into the courtyard, lost in thought. Mamna waited, careful not to push, allowing him to come to his own conclusions. “What if you saw her for yourself?”

“Impossible. The Slayer knows it’s the Demon Lord who wants her, and he made it very clear to me just this morning that he’ll protect her at all cost, even from the priestesses. It’s unfortunate that he shows so little faith,” she added. “The priestesses serve the goddesses. If he believed in her, he wouldn’t be worried.”

A few more moments of indecision settled over him before Pillar made up his mind.

“I can arrange for you to see her,” he said. “If you swear to serve her as a goddess once it’s determined for certain.”

Mamna smiled. Perhaps all was not yet lost to her. If she could convince the spawn it had been betrayed by the immortals, then it might be persuaded to restore and invoke Mamna’s amulet. If not, then Mamna would kill it and at least have some vengeance on both the Slayer and the Demon Lord.

“If the Demon Lord has no claim on her, then I will gladly serve this new goddess,” she said.

…

Airie helped Sapphire serve coffee to the men who had come to speak with Hunter and Blade.

She agreed to do this to help Hunter, but she did not like being presented to people as something she was not. Serving them was a silent act of rebellion, to let Hunter know this was a part she played, and that she disapproved of his plan.

It amused him more than anything. Though he avoided looking in her direction, she could tell by the set of his mouth. It was not as harsh as usual.

The men sat in half-circles at the round tables they’d drawn together in the saloon, all facing forward so that they could see and hear. She thought there might be fifty men in total, maybe more. Most were Godseekers, but some were locals, according to Sapphire.

Hunter, Blade, and a Godseeker sat at a table before them. The Godseeker was quite a bit older than Hunter and Blade and seemed to be in charge of the northerners.
Pillar
, she heard someone call him. Airie remembered him. He was the one who had threatened Hunter.

The two men appeared to bear each other no ill will over the incident.

The curious scrutiny of the strangers present left her uncomfortable as she moved in and out of the room, but she wanted to hear what was being planned and so did not rush.

“The Godseekers have a system for communication set up throughout the city,” Pillar said, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “There are plenty of men who will fight demons if we call them. More will fight if they believe the Demon Slayer does, too.” His eyes slid to Airie, then away, but he made no mention of goddesses.

“The demons will attack from above, and they’ll use fire,” Hunter added. “Every available man or woman who can use a bow and arrow or sword should be positioned on the rooftops inside the city, and the walls surrounding it. Only the best shots should be using rifles. The chance of ricochet is too high.”

Pillar agreed. A number of other heads nodded, too. “Those who can carry water for fighting fires should do so. We’ll need access to private wells, including the one in the temple. I can arrange for that.” He exchanged a long look with Hunter. “More rain would be helpful.”

“I’ll see to that.” Hunter leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. “We don’t want the demons to accurately guess our numbers. Let them think we’re paralyzed with fear, which is what they’ll expect. They haven’t met with organized resistance in three hundred years. We’ll draw them in as close as possible, then let the sharpshooters take over. Demons are most vulnerable here, here, and here,” he said, indicating points on his body. “That’s where the joints in their bone plating are.”