Stained (29 page)

It was, for a split second, shocking. After the relative quiet and isolation of the train, Julia found the writhing mass of people overwhelming. But Cayne squeezed her shoulder and whispered in an exotic language into her ear.

He stopped at a locker, fed it one of their last five-dollar bills, and deposited their bags, and then they found the Metro line. The hub was all shadows and wind and creaking steel, and in those shadows, between plastic chairs and big windows, Julia imagined all sorts of frightening beings.

By the time they made it out of Union Station, Cayne looked ready to kill--her, a Nephilim, anyone really--and Julia was giddy in an Oh-My-God-What's-Going-To-Happen way. It was reckless, but she'd take it. She'd take any relief she could find.

Her fear-sharpened senses made everything vivid: the watercolor orange and purple streaks across the sky, the feel of Cayne's body brushing hers, the smell of asphalt and trees.

"Oh my God, the Capitol!" Julia gawked.

Cayne didn't seem interested in the sights. He was back on his game, tracking everyone as he moved with Julia beneath his arm, keeping her in the shadows, staying close to exits and away from nooks where they could be pinned.

He was obviously thinking about the danger of their situation. Julia realized she should be, too, but the city had turned her into a stupid sightseer--which was just fine. She oohed and aahed over the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument and the reflecting pool.

She told herself this wasn't so bad. They were together, strolling alongside the Potomac, leaving their footprints in famous places.

After Cayne rolled his eyes at the White House (and Julia's enthusiasm at seeing it), she realized that he was one hundred percent detached from the excitement she was feeling. That knowledge finally killed her mood.

The sky had become an angry purple, and she started to wonder what night held for them, penniless and unable to use Cayne's powers of persuasion. She saw a gaggle of tourists about her age and let out a long breath. Cayne had revealed that he could pick pockets, so there was always that.

He rubbed her shoulder, and they walked on, first to more historical sites--the Jefferson Memorial, the Vietnam Wall--before moving into the city, eyes peeled for lodges or dull buildings where "stained" people could meet in anonymity. They even went to Georgetown. When Julia told Cayne it was one of the schools she'd been considering, he whistled.

"You must be a real dork."

He grinned, and she punched him.

Six hours after they started, the moon was beginning to rise. Julia yawned; Cayne looked tired, too, but maybe he was just tired of her whining.

At last, he said, "Let's go back to the Mall."

"Fine." Julia sighed. "Are you sure about Rosa's track record?"

Cayne gave her a long look.

"What if we're just wasting time?" She felt a spark of peace--she half-hoped they wouldn't find anything--and then a spark of panic. So many unknowns. "Are we, like, expecting some old person with a cane and a powdered wig to pull me into the bushes and tell me this big secret?" Julia scowled. "I wish we could just use your mojo. Get a hotel. Forget it."

Cayne ignored her suggestion and instead told her about Scotland--plaids were made to blend in with a clan's environment, not everyone wore tartans, etc.--as they found a bench on the west side of the National Mall. They sat back-to-back, and Julia listened to his stories.

Cayne was explaining school life when he reached for her hand. "Trouble."

His grip was painfully tight as he jerked her off the bench and into the crowd. He was all but carrying her as they dashed past trees and tour guides and students with band instruments.

Julia was weak with relief when he slowed in front of a big building with columns--one of the Smithsonians--and pushed her ahead.

"Go on," he ordered.

"
Cayne
." She struggled to drag in a breath.

"It's okay." But of course it wasn't; they were moving again and she couldn't find the air to ask what was wrong.

Cayne walked smoothly past the ticket booth, obviously using his mojo again, which meant they must have really been caught. When they got inside, he steered her toward a dinosaur exhibit.

"We're being followed by a Nephilim," he said quickly. "He caught my eye in the Mall. We may have lost him--" Cayne slowed by a man-sized femur and flicked a quick gaze behind. "--but, damnit, we didn't."

Julia snuck a peak at a Hispanic man with a buzzed head and a short beard. He was slightly shorter than Cayne, and a lot thicker. He wore a black leather trench coat and thick, dark shades.

Cayne pulled her under the red velvet rope and into a family of Triceratops.

"I don't think he saw us." His hands pushed her between two of the larger models. "That's right." And as Julia tried to drop back: "No, you're in front." She picked up the pace, and he directed her to the fake jungle in the middle of the exhibit. "There are two more," Cayne said.

He stopped Julia in the space between two huge palm trees and angled himself between her and the front of the museum. They both froze as the intercom crackled, and a very proper voice said the museum would close in ten minutes.

Cayne squeezed her wrist. "It'll be okay."

Julia nodded, for a second fully aware that they were being surrounded but were
just standing there
with all the dinosaurs. Cayne pressed something into her hand, and she stared stupidly at his dagger. On the train he'd given her some basic lessons on how to use it, but she wasn't ready.

Julia didn't have time to say so. She glimpsed their friend, very close, and then Cayne shoved her through plastic leaves. They ducked the red rope and came out in a wide open space, and then Cayne was hurling her forward.

As he jerked her into a run, a loud voice boomed: "Stop right there!"

Chapter 39

"Move!" Cayne hissed, but the other voice, thick with authority, overruled his: "Stop or I'll shoot!"

They stopped. Cayne pulled Julia to his chest and she turned her head. Two men--security guards in khaki uniforms--were pointing guns at her. Their auras were fringed with bright, nervous hues.

"Raise your hands slowly," the older one ordered while the second spit a backup call into his radio.

Julia started raising her arms, but Cayne pushed them back down. And that's when she noticed: the guards weren't aiming at her. They were aiming at the Hispanic Nephilim.

His face was serene, and nothing on it or in his body language suggested he was going to comply.

Everyone else watching the conflict seemed to reach the same conclusion. Gawking tourists began to edge away. Museum employees glanced at each other nervously and followed. The guards' voices roughened as the half-demon refused to follow their orders.

"Sir, if you do not show me your hands, I'll have to fire."

Their target smiled grimly. The guards aimed at his heart. Several others approached, guns drawn.

Cayne began to pull Julia away. Then, slowly, the Nephilim raised his hands.

"That's good," the first guard said. "Now--"

In a flash, his trench coat was sailing above him, and a long wicked sword was glinting under fluorescent light. Nobody moved or even breathed as the Nephilim reached the first guard and decapitated him.

The guard's body tumbled, spurting blood. Someone shrieked, and everyone seemed to realize what was happening. The crowd scattered like hunted geese. The guards opened fire. Julia saw a shower of bullets punch the Nephilim as Cayne jerked her away. She saw his skin erupt in fire and blood. He killed two more guards and she knew then that he would kill them all.

They raced down a hall, flying past glass cases filled with plants and taxidermied animals. They burst out an emergency exit and into a parking lot dotted with short, white tour buses.

Cayne pulled her down almost immediately, and an arrow whooshed over their heads. Two Nephilim charged through the museum door, one with a blood-red bow, the other with a crimson sword. The archer let another arrow fly, and Cayne tossed Julia out of the way. "I'm dropping the link."

Even before he finished his sentence, Julia felt a vacancy in her head, the absence of something hot and solid and distinctly Cayne.

An arrow sliced Cayne's left side as he and the archer collided on the asphalt. Cayne jerked the bow away and pushed the Nephilim into the arch of the second's swinging sword. The first lost an arm. His blood, the brightest red Julia had ever seen, spewed from the nub at his shoulder like a fountain.

The other Nephilim swung again. His blade caught Cayne on the head, and a string of blood followed it through its arch.

One moment, Julia's body felt leaden. Frozen. The next, she leapt at the Nephilim, charged with an almost supernatural force. Then he swung his elbow into her stomach and she collapsed, dropping Cayne's dagger as she gasped. Cayne tackled the Nephilim--his ear had been severed, Julia saw; it was oozing dark, thick blood--and Julia scrambled for his blade. She nicked her finger on it as she tossed it to Cayne.

He snatched it from the air and plunged it into his opponent's chest. Then Cayne grabbed the sword and beheaded him.

The Nephilim's body fell jerkily as a geyser of blood erupted from his neck. It was over.

Moving under the glow of streetlamps, Julia lunged for Cayne and buried her face in his warm chest. He wrapped his arms around and ran his fingers through her hair. "Good job."

"Your ear." She ran her hand up his neck, but Cayne caught it.

"Just stop the bleeding. Save your energy."

"But--"

"It will grow back."

She did as he'd asked, but she added a little something extra to help it along.
Cayne hugged her. "I meant what I said." He grinned. "You're an asset."

Julia rolled her misty eyes. "You're such a dork."

He laughed. "I don't think that's--"

The exit door banged open, and Julia snapped her head toward it. The broad, Hispanic Nephilim from the museum emerged like a living nightmare. Every inch of him was covered in blood. Holes pocked his torso and chest, his arms and legs, and even his head; one above his eye was still smoking.

Julia gagged and clung to Cayne, who seemed at a loss. He pushed her behind him and summoned his dagger.

The Nephilim opened his mouth, and his pink tongue rolled out. "Is it true you have forgotten us, Cayzul?"

Julia shuddered. Cayne was stiff as a statue, staring at the half-demon with narrow eyes. "You should run," he said softly.

It took Julia a second to realize he was talking to her. "What?"

"This is a Bound." His lips pursed as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "He can possess human bodies."

"And devour souls," the Bound added, sounding amused.

Julia blanched. Things like that existed?

With a gruesome smile, the Bound lunged. Cayne blocked the thing's sword with his shoulder. He grunted and drove his dagger into the Bound's arm. "Get outta here," he yelled, his voice thick. "I can't kill it if you're near!"

Julia nodded, stricken with the realization that she'd have to leave--or risk possession.

Cayne flipped the Bound over his shoulder, and she ran as fast as she could, past a row of busses and out of the parking lot, onto the sliver of grass between it and the street. How far did she need to run before Cayne was safe? How far before she was?