The Demon Creed (A Demon Outlaws Novel) (Entangled Edge) (26 page)

There was nowhere for Nieve to run either, which was just as well. She knew better than to show fear to a demon, something she had not been able to overcome in the past. It strengthened him and gave him control over her.

She could not believe that she had ever compared Creed to this cold monster. Creed was as beautiful on the inside as he was in appearance, and that inner beauty did not disappear simply because he changed from one physical form to another. It hurt her, deep in her heart, that she had not told him she loved him.

Bright red blood trickled from Willow’s ears. Nieve had no love for her. The woman was cruel, and had no use for mortals or those she perceived as weak.

But Willow was far from alone in her cruelty and prejudice. Nieve had experienced more pain at the hands of mortals than she had from half demons, or a demon, and she would forever regret her own inaction in trying to prevent this. She could not stand here and watch the life being choked from Willow.

She scooped up a rock from the ground and threw it as hard as she could. It struck the demon in the shoulder. He did not turn around, or exhibit any surprise, other than a slight flinch.

The fire Willow held flickered beneath her skin, as if the demon had managed to turn it back on her and keep her from releasing it, and Nieve saw that it burned her from the inside. Nieve watched in helpless horror as he squeezed the last bits of life from her. Her legs kicked in the air, her fingers scrabbling at his claws until her lovely features distorted, turned purple, then black. Her eyes burst from her head, and blood gushed from her ears.

The demon tossed her body aside where it lay in a crumpled, broken heap at the foot of one of the jagged cliff faces. Nieve closed her eyes tight, wondering if this was to be her fate, too, and if she would ever see her son or Creed again.

At least she knew Ash would be safe and well-loved. Creed was the one she ached for. She had known, if she should allow herself to love him, how difficult it would be for her if she lost him. Until now she had not considered the consequences her loss might have on him.

She saw no remorse in the demon for what he had done. No regret. It was as if he had completely forgotten the woman he had killed the instant he was through with her.

It was amazing that something so beautiful could harbor such ugliness.

Nieve’s back was pressed against a crumbling wall of red sandstone and broken chunks of smoky quartz. She could not move as he reached out a hand and brushed her hair from her cheek with a possessive finger. He traced the line of her jaw, then tilted her chin upward.

“You’re mine,” he said. “Never forget that. I’ll find you wherever you are, no matter how long it takes. We’re connected.”

She could not tear her eyes from the demon who had fathered her son. Nor did she forget the desire she had once felt for him, even though she had not wanted it. She had been afraid that if she were ever to face him again, as she did now, she would not be able to resist him—and Creed would never again look at her in the same way.

But while Nieve bore the full brunt of the compulsion the demon directed at her, she discovered with a knee-weakening relief that she was no longer bound by his will.

Her heart had chosen Creed. Right now it cried out for him. And he was not here to save her.

But he would come for her. She knew it. He always had, despite his claims that he would not do so again. All she had to do was gain enough time for him to find her.

She pressed the palms of her hands to the stinking wall of sandstone behind her. “I’m not yours. I never was, and I never will be. There’s no connection between us.”

“No?” He lifted a brow as if her denial amused him. Then he uttered a single word.

“Asher.”

Chapter Twenty-one

The girl’s name was Imp, Creed had discovered. It suited her, but in a mischievous, harmless way.

He and the children found Hunter near the front steps of the ruined temple, overseeing the care and removal of the bodies. They had been bundled together in two distinct piles—mortal and half demon—and covered with large tarpaulins.

When Hunter saw Creed and his two young companions, he intercepted them and hurried them around the far corner of the temple so they would not have to see what was beneath those tarpaulins. There, he listened to the girl’s story without interrupting her, or showing any outward signs of alarm.

That did not mean he was calm, Creed understood, only that he was able to set his emotions aside long enough to deal with practicalities first.

Creed, on the other hand, could not get Nieve from his mind. How many times had he told her that he would not come for her? That his duty came first?

How wrong he had been. He was hers. Nieve would always come first.

He still had her small son in his arms. He held him a bit closer and tried not to worry, not wanting the boy to pick up on his concern.

“Airie has greater protection from demons than you might think,” Hunter said to Creed. “I’d worry more if there were other half demons with Willow, but Imp says she’s alone. Airie will look after Nieve until we get there.” He spoke to the girl. “If you and Scratch are both able to travel in this demon boundary, can you take us through it, too?”

She scuffed one toe in the dirt as if reluctant to come right out and say no because she didn’t wish to disappoint him. Creed’s heart went out to her. Wherever she came from, he did not doubt that she had been with Willow only because she’d had no other choice.

Cottonwood Fall and all of the Borderlands—indeed, the whole known world—would have to come to terms with a new and widely spreading reality. A sweet-natured child such as this, so eager to please others, should never need to fear abandonment.

Imp looked between Hunter and Creed with doubt written on her face. “Willow wanted me to take her to it, too, but she couldn’t cross. And when you’re there, you have to be quiet or the demons will find you.”

“Can you explain to me how to do it so I can go there by myself?” Creed asked her. “Is there some special trick I should know?”

She lifted her thin shoulders. “I just think about it and it happens.”

Hunter raked fingers through his sweat-darkened blond hair. “It’s obvious not everyone can do it. Or at least it’s not instinctive,” he said to Creed. “Would you need to have some sort of connection to this boundary, perhaps? Could it be through your demon fathers?”

It was one possibility. Creed knew Asher’s father still lived, so that could be his connection. If it was, it would mean Imp’s father likely lived, too. But Creed’s demon father had been killed by his sister’s husband, Blade. Therefore, Creed had no such link to test.

And demons hated all spawn. Especially their own. Imp said they had to be quiet or demons would find them, so if there was a link, it was a precarious one.

There had to be more possibilities. Their fathers might be the connection that allowed half demons to enter this boundary, but it need not be the only one. Creed shifted Asher so that he settled more comfortably on his arm. The boy had one elbow crooked around his neck. Creed deliberated as to what would make a half demon child seek out such a place, even if involuntarily. It might be out of a necessity to hide from something that was happening to them in the mortal world. To run away from some perceived threat or trauma. Asher had been taken by slavers. He suspected Imp had been turned out of her home.

Creed had never needed to run or hide as a child. His mother might not have loved him, but he hadn’t felt threatened, or a desire to escape from the mortal world. He’d had his innate talent for deflecting unwanted attention to protect him from trouble. And he was no longer a child. Perhaps he had outgrown any latent ability he might once have had.

“I have no idea,” Creed said.

He watched Hunter assess the chaos in the street beyond the temple, where the sheriff had rounded up the remaining children. They’d either exhausted their abilities in the fight or did not possess any significant amount of demon strength to begin with. Either way, there was no opposition left in them. They simply seemed defeated.

Lost.

“We’re wasting time,” Hunter said. “If we can’t take a shortcut, we need to get moving. The sheriff and his men will have to deal with this for now.”

The disquiet that had been nudging at Creed could no longer be set aside. While he would have known if Nieve were in immediate physical danger, his demon insisted she needed him. And that she needed him now.

Creed reached for Imp’s hand, wanting to keep her near him to protect her as they went for their hross. He had no intention of leaving her with the others, and the sheriff.

But before he could catch hold of her, Asher’s other arm came around his neck. He clung to Creed with his little face pressed against his cheek as if his life depended on it.

Creed heard a single word roll through the child’s thoughts.

Asher
.

And then the darkened street disappeared—there one second, gone the next. Creed staggered, automatically clutching Asher more tightly to his chest so as to not drop him.

Inside, his demon roared to life, its chaotic thoughts rippling through him with an overwhelming and euphoric speed.

One thought outdistanced all others.

Home
.

Creed’s demon was home. This, then, was the boundary.

He did not share the same sense of euphoria.

Once he had his feet beneath him again, he looked around. Surrounding them on three sides were cliffs and rock. Beyond the cliffs stretched an enormous desert that stank of death and decay. Waves of heat rippled off red sand. Asher clung to Creed’s neck like a burr.

The boy’s spoken name, which Creed had heard very distinctly, created at least one connection to the demon boundary. Asher had been summoned here. Creed could think of only one demon with an interest in the child.

His lips thinned. It would not be expecting his presence as well. Let it discover what it was like to deal with him and not a defenseless woman or child.

His demon no longer sang its euphoria into his thoughts. It had fallen quiet, yet remained very restless.

It worried for Nieve.

Creed readjusted Asher’s weight so the boy sat on his hip, keeping one arm hooked protectively around him. Nieve was safe with Airie, who could protect her from Willow. Creed would see that no harm came to her son.

He’d find a way to get Asher back to her.

He examined the sheer rock faces, running the tips of his fingers over their rough skin. A small cleft split the rock into two halves, forming a narrow sluice with open sky at the top and a faint crack of light at the far end.

Nieve is in there.
His demon seemed so certain.

Creed paused, his fingers glued to the rock. The tattoo on his back itched.

He set Asher on his feet. Other than the forbidding desert at their backs, there was nowhere else for them to go but forward, between the cliffs.

“Stay behind me,” Creed said.

They squeezed through the jagged crack in the cliffs.

On the other side, in a narrow canyon, he found Nieve, just as his demon had known he would.

Her back was to the canyon wall. A man had her pinned against it, his head bent close to hers. One of her hands rested against the rocks behind her, palm down and with her fingers spread. The other hand was pressed to the man’s chest. She did not appear to be struggling against him.

This was not a man she was with, but a demon.

Anger clenched Creed’s heart in a tight fist. She would not have come here willingly. Inside, where it did the most damage to her, she would be fighting his touch.

Then, unexpectedly, Nieve’s free hand came away from the crumbling rock wall to fling a fistful of dirt and broken stone into the demon’s face before she ducked under his arm in an attempt to escape. The demon jerked back, caught off guard by this unexpected display of resistance, but still did not shift as he turned to pursue her.

She wasn’t running away. Instead, she stooped and grabbed up a larger rock. As she did, she finally saw Creed. Hope and relief filled her eyes, and he read the trust for him that blossomed across her face.

She had not noticed her son’s presence though, meaning the boy was hiding from her. While Creed had lectured him for his use of compulsion earlier, now, he was grateful.

He set Asher on the ground, placing him carefully behind him so that he would be protected. The little boy showed no signs of alarm. Creed wondered what all he had seen, and been exposed to, in the time he had been away from his mother, to leave him so calm in the face of danger.

Creed caught the faint sound of a tiny voice whispering,
Asher
. He spun around, only to see the boy vanish.

The demon, too, had spotted Creed now. Blood filled its eyes. It shifted, becoming ugly and horned, and so large that it dwarfed Nieve, tiny beside it. Thick red bone plating creaked as it straightened on squat, solid legs. Creed drew a harsh breath, afraid it might crush her.

And there was nothing he could do about it. His demon refused to emerge.

Nieve’s pale blond head drooped. The rock fell from her hand. Then she brought her chin up. Green eyes pierced Creed’s.

“What kind of assassin are you if you won’t use your best weapon?” she demanded.

You didn’t use your best weapon.

She had chastised him for it once before, angry with him for the beating he’d endured. His demon needed no further encouragement from her than that.

Creed set it free. His bones stretched, their joints popping. His shirt ripped to shreds as his body expanded. His hands turned to claws as he assumed his full demon form.

But this time Creed acknowledged a distinct difference as he shifted, because understanding came with it. He was made up of two parts, not one. It had never been his demon that refused to shift in Nieve’s presence. It wanted nothing more than to kill any male who dared touch her.

Creed alone had held it back.

He swung his heavy demon head toward Nieve.

“Hide!” he roared at her.

Without waiting to see whether or not she obeyed, he confronted his opponent.

They were evenly matched in size and strength. Creed’s demon’s protectiveness regarding Nieve surged unrestrained to the surface, and he no longer tried to contain it. While Creed could rationalize that she was unharmed, his demon could not. Another male had dared touch her, and that was not to be tolerated. Creed did not intend to tolerate it either.

He threw one massive fist that connected with the other demon’s ear.

It bellowed, fell back, and shook its head. Blood-red rage burned in its glaring eyes. As it regained its footing it exploded toward Creed. One of the sharp horns protruding from its skull gouged at the soft, unprotected underside of Creed’s chin where the bone plating parted to form a joint. Creed swung his head to the side and the horn scraped across his cheek. The force of the blow cracked the bone armor and tore the flesh it exposed. A trickle of warm blood dripped from Creed’s jowl.

The demon threw a blow at Creed’s face, intending to strike the bone he’d already smashed. Rather than try to avoid it, as the demon anticipated, Creed stepped forward and to one side, grabbed the demon’s extended arm as it shot out, and yanked. The demon fell against Creed’s chest. Creed thrust out his leg, rolled the demon over his hip, and smashed him to the ground. He dropped a knee to his throat, knocking his chin up and out of the way so that the demon’s bone plating parted. Creed rammed the claws of one hand between the bone plating, slicing the demon’s flesh. Blood squirted in hot, thick gushes.

Creed seized his opponent’s head in both hands and jerked it to the side to break the neck, as he’d been trained. He then followed up with a powerful blow to the chest that was guaranteed to stop the demon’s heart in case it still beat.

A blur came at him from one side. His demon stayed his fist when he would have struck out to defend himself.

It was Nieve. Something dull and metallic filled her small hand. A grenade. She must have found it in the scattered remnants of his torn shirt, or perhaps it had fallen from a pocket.

She hooked a finger in the round pin at the top, as she’d seen him do, and dropped the pin on the ground. She went to her knees, shoving the grenade under the demon’s inert form between its arm and chest.

Creed scooped her up in one massive arm. He lumbered in a half crouch, with his body bent protectively over hers, as fast as he could toward the break in the cliffs.

His demon was too large to fit, and he could not regain control well enough to shift. Adrenaline surged through him, making it too difficult.

He thrust Nieve inside, blocking the space with his body as the grenade exploded behind him. The ground shuddered. Chunks of rock bounced off his back. Then, the world fell eerily silent.

Creed’s demon, however, did not. It still hungered for blood. Changing form would not make him less dangerous, only less obviously so. Instead, Creed fought to retain demon form so that Nieve would at least be warned that all was not right with him.

But Nieve did not seem at all afraid. She threw herself at him, unmindful of the form he wore, and wrapped her arms as far around his bloodied demon body as she could reach.

“I knew you would come for me,” she said, resting her cheek against him.

With her touch, and her words, Creed’s demon lost all interest in fighting. He shifted to mortal form and gathered her against him. For long moments, Creed could not speak. She, who had so much more reason than he not to trust, had not doubted him.