Incubus (40 page)

knew, even as I said the words, that I couldn’t undo this damage.

Lucas laughed, but the sound was brutal, humorless. “That’s rich.”

“You have to believe me,” I said. My voice was shrill, on the edge of breaking.

“No. I don’t.” Lucas looked at me. It was as if a cement wall had been built behind his eyes.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling, he kept it veiled. With a wrenching pain, I felt

him slipping away. “I don’t think I’ll ever believe you again.”

“You said you’d never doubt me.” My throat was tight with emotion. “Not unless I told you I

didn’t love you anymore.”

Lucas met my eyes with a clear, direct stare. “Don’t you get it?” he asked. “You just did.”

Chapter 16

Steam curled from an oversized mug of hot chocolate in my hands. Heat radiated through the ceramic.

The rich aroma of cocoa and chili powder hung heavy in the air. I observed it all like it was happening

to someone else. Nothing had seemed real to me since Lucas had left me standing alone in the Guard’s

basement.

After the first wave of shock had worn off, I’d fled to my car. I hadn’t intended to come here, but

my drive had wandered through the neighborhood. Sophia’s seemed as safe a place as any. I needed

some time alone to think. When Lucas had made it clear we were through, I’d started to question

everything. I’d fought so hard to become human, desperate for the chance at a healthy relationship

with him. And now that chance was gone.

I took a sip of the scalding liquid. The pain focused my thoughts. Brought me back to the present

moment.

Do I even want to become human?
I asked myself.
Why sugarcoat it? Everything I’d done, I’d done

for Lucas, hadn’t I? To be with Lucas. Who now wanted nothing to do with me ever again. So I was

free to decide my future unencumbered.

But even as I thought this, my stomach twisted painfully. A fresh wash of grief spilled through me.

I tipped my head forward, ashamed. The life of a Lilitu? To never have a romantic relationship that

didn’t end in devastation or death? To never get married, never have Dad walk me down the aisle? To

never have a child unless I stole the life of another?

No. Lucas wasn’t the reason I wanted to be human.

Exhaustion battered at my mind. I stood, leaving the cup still steaming on the table, next to a

crumpled five-dollar bill.

How I made it home, I don’t really know. The house was empty. Seth was gone. Dad hadn’t

returned from his rounds. I climbed the stairs, feeling gravity pulling a little harder on my limbs with

every step. I collapsed into bed, tumbling into a dreamless sleep only seconds later.

I struggled to wake up, hearing the sounds of voices below. I glanced out the window. The sun was low

in the west. I’d slept most of the day away. I considered pulling a blanket over me, seeking the

oblivion of dreamless sleep once more. But my stomach growled angrily. I’d had nothing to eat today

but that piece of toast at breakfast and a few cups of hot chocolate. I rose, still groggy, and headed

downstairs.

Dad and Hale were talking with two others at the dining room table. As I came down the stairs,

Thane’s face came into view. So he was finally back. The fourth man at the table was a stranger to me,

but the others were listening to him with rapt attention.

“It doesn’t surprise me that he tried to manipulate your children,” he was saying. “It would have

been a great coup for him if they’d managed to perform the ritual.”

My steps slowed on the staircase.

“When I think what could have happened,” Dad said. He shook his head. The others murmured

agreement.

“What?” I asked, reaching the bottom of the staircase. “What could have happened?”

Dad turned. “Braedyn. This is Ian Masters. He’s Terrance Clay’s archivist.” Dad gave me a sharp

look, urging caution. I walked into the dining room, crossing my arms so I could hide my bandaged

hand nonchalantly.

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked again.

“This ritual you were so intent on,” Thane said. “The one you thought would lock the Lilitu out of

this world?”

“Yeah?” I asked. A strange prickling wash spread across my back.

Thane inclined his head toward the new archivist. “Ian’s just told your father and Hale that this

ritual is the way to
open
the seal.”

“Open?” I asked.

“Indeed.” Thane shot a look at my father. “The incubus tried to play you all for fools.”

I reached out for the wall, suddenly needing the support. Dad’s eyes locked onto my face. I saw the

bolt of understanding strike him. He clamped a lid on his rising panic and gave me a mild smile. “You

look tired, kiddo. Go up to your room. I’ll bring you some dinner in a minute.”

I stared at him, reeling, unable to move.

Thane glanced at me.

“Go on up,” Dad said, some of his anxiety breaking through the calm facade. “I’ll come see you in

a minute.”

I turned back to the stairs.

“
Stop.
” Thane was on his feet in an instant. He crossed the distance between us in three long

strides, then grabbed my arm and spun me around. My eyes darted to Dad for help, but Thane

tightened his grip on my arm. “What did you do?”

“I—I’m sorry,” I wheezed.

“
Stupid girl,
” Thane hissed.

Dad pushed back from the table. “
Thane.
Let her go.”

“You realize what she’s done?” Thane turned to the others. Hale was staring at me, his face full of

disbelief. Ian looked from me to Dad, unsure what to make of this. “She’s delivered victory to our

enemies! She’s opened the seal!”

“Braedyn?” Hale turned to me with a look of horror.

“I—it was supposed to lock the door,” I said helplessly.

“Please, no one panic,” Ian said, standing. “They couldn’t have finished the ritual. They’d need the

blood of a Lilitu to set the power—”

Hale, Thane, and Dad turned to me. Thane grabbed my wounded hand and ripped the bandage off. I

blanched, biting back a gasp of pain. The gash in my palm was healing quickly, but it hadn’t yet

closed. Thane’s breath came out in a low hiss of fury.

“Call the others,” Hale said quietly.

Ian looked around the room with a blank look. “Have I missed something?”

Thane glared at Hale.

“Call the others,” Hale repeated to Ian, with more force this time. Ian nodded, confused, and

walked quickly for the front door. We heard the door close behind him. Thane released my wrist.

“And what about our errant young Lilitu?” Thane asked Hale quietly. “You are, after all, assuming

she made a mistake. How do we know she hasn’t changed her allegiance? You continue to cling to the

hope she is our secret weapon. How do we know she isn’t
theirs?
” Dad stepped toward Thane, too

angry to speak. Thane backed away reflexively, then drew himself up to his full height. “You still

defend her?”

“I will
always
defend her,” Dad said.

Thane gave my dad a level look. “Then this is as much your fault as it is hers.”

“What’s done is done,” Hale snapped. “We need to pull the forces together.”

“What should I do?” I asked in a tiny voice. All three men turned to look at me.

“Go to your room,” Dad said after a moment’s silence had passed.

“Yes.” Thane said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I think you’ve done quite enough for one day.”

I walked numbly down the hall to my room.

This can’t be happening.
The thought kept repeating in my head.
This can’t be happening. This

can’t be happening.

By the time I reached the door to my room, my sight was blurry with tears. Nothing made sense.

Angela had been so clear in her journal. This was our way out of the coming war. It had to be. That

was the justification for
everything
I’d done. Stealing from that shopkeeper. Going behind my father’s

back. Trespassing in Lucas’s mind. Taking the vessel from the Guard.

How could I have been so wrong? I’d gambled
everything
so I could become human. I’d gambled

everything—and I had lost.

I fell onto my bed, curling into a tight ball. Strangely, I found I was too tired, too worn out to cry.

Even that release was denied to me.

I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Something that didn’t belong here. It pulled my

spiraling thoughts up short. A fuzzy, grey knit skullcap folded neatly on one of my pillows. Royal’s

hat. I picked it up, and a small piece of paper slipped out. I opened the note, and the message inside

stole my breath away. I knew the handwriting. It was the same as the note he’d slipped in Cassie’s

locker.

One night down.

The incubus. The incubus had attacked Royal.

I held the note in one trembling hand. A growing fury chased the exhaustion out of my body,

burning through my veins until even my bones were saturated with rage. He’d tricked me into

betraying everyone I loved in this world. He used me to open the door between worlds. He’d won.

He’d won, and yet he continued to take from me.

I turned, planting my feet on the floor and standing. One night down. Royal wasn’t a Thrall yet. I

could find him. I could talk to him. He’d be weak, but he’d still be Royal. And that meant he could

still be reasoned with. He would tell me who’d attacked him. Royal would lead me to the incubus.

I grabbed a sweater from my closet, thrusting my arms through the sleeves while I crossed the

room. I was halfway to my door before I stopped. I turned, glancing at my dresser. I hadn’t taken them

out since the night Ais had died. It seemed fitting somehow that I’d first hold them again on the

anniversary of her death.

I knelt before my dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was a mass of scarves, belts,

gloves, hats—things I didn’t need often. Things I hadn’t touched since I’d last closed this drawer one

year ago. I reached behind a pile of scarves. My hand closed on the leather sheath, lying where I’d left

it. I pulled it out.

Her blood still stained the hilt.

Flashes of that night crowded out the room around me. The panic, the helplessness, the pain and

fear. I stared at the drops of blood along the hilt, and I noticed a faintly metallic glint to them.

Metallic—like the mixture we’d made at the sanctuary. A chill moved through me.

In a sweeping motion, I pulled the weapon free from the sheath. I thumbed the hidden release.

What looked like one dagger sprang apart into two twining, serpentine blades. They gleamed oddly in

the fading light of day. The blades—like the blades of all Guard weapons—had that peculiar sheen

that always reminded me of gasoline spreading across water; a sort of dirty rainbow swirl somehow

embedded in the metal.