The Trouble With Black Cats and Demons

by Kat Simons

  Since she didn’t consider herself invincible, she couldn’t really argue with him. But that meant he wasn’t invincible either. She tilted her head to one side as she realized his unintentional meaning.

  “Glad to hear it,” she said.

  He blinked slowly, then turned one hand to examine his nails. “Besides over-confidence—a trait you have in abundance, and which should have given your true powers away earlier—Protectors share a few, very important vulnerabilities.”

  Oh shit. Here it was. He knew, and he’d figured out a way to use that knowledge to kill her. Her heart hammered and her breathing came in short bursts. She hunched closer to Jon, hoping whatever Holland had in mind for her wouldn’t hurt the boy.

  “The most important vulnerability as far as I’m concerned,” Holland said, his voice even lower now, “is your compassion.”

  Cary’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. What was he getting at?

  “Compassion is the thing that makes a Protector. Without it… Well, you’d do something else, wouldn’t you? But that great well of empathy for mankind, that drive to keep innocents safe from harm… That weakness is your undoing, Ms. Redmond.”

  Holland’s hand began to glow red and little sparks of power jumped like lightning between his fingertips. She tried to swallow but didn’t have any spit left.

  “You see, my dear, deluded girl.” Holland’s smug smile dropped away, leaving stone and ice behind. “The problem you have is that you can’t save everyone.”

  Power shot from his hand and slammed into Nira’s chest, making the woman’s small body convulse. Her scream rent the night air.

  31

  “No!” Cary lunged toward Nira to help, despite knowing it was too late. Before she could get up, though, the attack on her and Jon started again.

  She had just enough time to see Holland turn into the woods, following Nira’s path back to the city, before the battering magics took all her focus. She curled around Jon as the assault beat down on her, unable to see or hear beyond the attack now. Her heart felt like it would burst in her chest. And one or two of the powerful spells got close enough to send small electrical shocks down her spine.

  She screamed against the terror and pain of failure, the possibility that she would fail again, and Jon would die. Her body shook with the effort to keep him safe, to do this one thing right. She had no idea how much time passed as she huddled on the forest floor and hoped against hope she’d be able to keep Jon alive.

  After a while, she realized the attack was lessening, the number of powers battering her decreasing. Her own shields seemed to rebound as the attack waned, and she could no longer feel the strain so acutely. She heaved in two long, deep breathes and opened her eyes…

  In time to see the four remaining soldiers cut down by gunfire. She jerked at the sharp, loud crack of the semi-automatic gun.

  And then she saw Deacon moving from the trees, his long coat flowing out from his body like a cloak, his handsome face set in such unflinchingly vicious lines, she actually gasped. His eyes glowed a golden yellow. Before she could take in the fury and bloodlust that had filled his expression, he was beside her, kneeling on the ground and cupping her cheeks in his hands.

  “Cary? Cary, are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “What…? You have a gun?”

  “For situations like this. Trick my mother taught me.”

  Cary couldn’t begin to process that. “Huh?”

  His lips lifted, not quite a smile. “Most preternatural creatures forget to protect themselves from mundane weapons during a magical battle. And no one expects a shapeshifter to use something as ordinary as a gun most of the time.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call an Uzi ordinary.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, ignoring her exaggerated evaluation of his weapon. Then he glanced at Jon. “You okay?”

  “Holland…” Jon gulp in a shaky breath. “He killed her.”

  Cary’s throat closed at the catch in his voice, the terror trembling through the kid’s words, and her own failure rose like bile to choke her. She passed Jon to the safety of Deacon’s arms and scrambled on her hands and knees to the fallen Naga.

  Her beautiful face was motionless, her dark eyes fogged and blank, and a line of red ran from her mouth down her chin and cheek to the leaf-strewn ground. Cary sobbed as she forced herself to look at the wound in the woman’s chest, a blackened circle the size of a volleyball carved an inch deep into skin and bone. The stink of burned flesh caused the bile to rise in Cary’s throat again. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she ignored them.

  Carefully, she lifted Nira’s head to her lap and smoothed her dark hair back from her face. The ruby between her eyebrows winked in the ugly lamplight.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice thick. “I’m so sorry.” She rocked against the ache in her own chest, hunched over the woman’s head, and let her tears flow.

  The feel of a firm hand on her shoulder made her stop rocking. Her body shuddered in one violent jerk, but the warm grip remained in place.

  “I couldn’t save her,” she said. “I tried. But…”

  “You’ve never lost anyone before?” Deacon’s voice was quiet and even.

  Her tears kept streaming. “I’ve been terrified of this since becoming a Protector. That I wouldn’t be good enough. That I’d fail and someone would die. Now I have.”

  “Cary.”

  The sound of Jaxer’s voice snapped her head up. The faery stood in front of her, across Nira’s body. He tilted his head to one side and sighed. Unable to speak, she looked away, and noticed the others for the first time.

  Ten, maybe fifteen men and women surrounded her, most sporting a precious gem of varying sizes between their brows. On the ground, near the dead woman’s feet, a giant snake lay in a tall coil. Its forked tongue flickered out to touch Nira’s toes. Cary didn’t have to ask who the newcomers were.

  “They caught me circling back to you,” Deacon murmured. “They wouldn’t believe I wasn’t with Holland until Jaxer arrived and convinced them.”

  One of the men stepped closer. Something about the shape of his eyes, the curve of his lips looked familiar.

  “He’s a shifter,” the man said. “The demon hired many such creatures to find us.”

  “Why did you believe Jaxer?” Cary frowned at the harshness of her own voice. She barely recognized the sound.

  “Fae are of the earth, like Nagas.”

  Not much of an explanation. But it didn’t matter. She glanced down at the woman still cradled in her lap. They’d all been too late to save her. She sucked in a breath when she realized where she’d seen the man’s eyes before. “She was a relative?”

  “My sister.” He sounded almost emotionless, but she heard the suppressed rage. He held his body carefully still, and his breathing was harsh.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her,” Cary said.

  Jaxer knelt beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder, opposite Deacon. “You are a wonderful Protector. But you can’t save everyone.”

  Jaxer’s words echoed Holland’s, roaring through her head like a ricocheting bullet. She bit her lip and jerked her head in denial. What good was being a Protector if she couldn’t save this strong, loyal woman, a woman willing to die to protect her people? What use was all her power if she was powerless to help?

  She looked up and locked gazes with Nira’s brother. She might not be able to save everyone. But she could damned well try.

  “Can you get me to the city entrance before the demon?” she asked. “A short cut?”

  “Why?” He frowned, his gaze moving between her and his sister’s body.

  “Cary, no.” Deacon’s voice crackled in the quiet clearing. “Jaxer, don’t let her try this.”

  Cary kept her gaze locked with Nira’s brother, ignoring Deacon’s protest even when his grip on her shoulder tightened. “If I can get between his army and the city,” she said, “I can… I can stall them long enough for you to s
eal the city, to destroy or barricade the entrance. Can you do that? Seal the city off from his entry?”

  “We can erect defenses. The leaders might already be preparing for attack after…” His gaze darted down to his sister again, then quickly away. “We can’t cut our city off from this realm without forming another link to another location. That takes time and power. But we can make getting through this entrance difficult while we do that.”

  “Cary, damn it,” Deacon said.

  “How long do you need?” Cary asked, ignoring Deacon. “Have you started setting up another entrance already?”

  Deacon dropped to his knees beside her, took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “You can’t protect an entire city from an army. You’ll be killed.”

  “She died trying to save her city.” Cary glanced down at Nira, then back at Deacon. Past him, in the dim light, she could see Jon swaying unsteadily, his gaze riveted on them. She dropped her voice. “I failed her once. I have to try.” She cupped his cheek. “I have to do this.”

  “No.”

  “Cary,” Jaxer said, “it’s never been done before, not by any Protector. You’re human. You won’t be able to channel power long enough. It will kill you.”

  Another tear tracked down her cheek, but it was her last one. Anger, determination, sheer stubborn will blanketed her grief. She knew deep in her soul she could hold the army off. At least for a little while. She could give the Nagas time. She would give them the time they needed.

  “Holland will not get through me.” She said each word slowly, distinctly for everyone to hear. Then she shook off all the restraining hands, laid Nira’s head gently on the ground and rose.

  Deacon launched to his feet and gripped her shoulders. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered harshly.

  “Holland will not enter that city,” she said. “If you want to keep me alive, help me.”

  “How?”

  She glanced at Nira’s brother. “Can you get Deacon and Jaxer inside the city?”

  “Why?” the Naga asked.

  She turned back to Deacon. “Help them set up defenses at this entrance while they work to build the new one. They need as much help and power as they can get.” She looked at the other Nagas. “We’ll split up. I’ll go with Nira’s brother, you go with the others. Take Jon. We can circle the arm and not give them an easy target before we get there.”

  “I’m staying with you,” Deacon said. “Jaxer can help the Nagas.”

  “What if Holland uses you against me?” she said. “The way he used Jon. I don’t want to lose you either.” She held his gaze even as he cursed in frustration. Gripping his forearms, she squeezed. “I’ll be stronger knowing you’re in the city. I need you and Jaxer to keep Jon with you and protect him. I need you to keep Jon safe. So I can concentrate. If I’m afraid for you or him…”

  When he shook his head and looked away, she gripped his arms tighter until he looked back at her.

  “I have to stand alone, with no distraction. I can do this, Deacon.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “I will do this.”

  He stared at her for a long, quiet moment. She knew this went against his every instinct. Following her plan would mean allowing the possibility of her death, and for those few silent seconds, she feared he wouldn’t have it in him to let her take the risk.

  Then, with a sudden jerk, he pulled her close, kissed her hard and pushed her away again. “Go. Before I change my mind.”

  She managed a slight, wobbly smile, and turned to follow Nira’s brother and one other Naga male.

  “Cary.”

  Deacon’s voice stopped her at the edge of the tree line. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood with his hands on Jon’s shoulders. Beside him, Jaxer rose slowly to his feet. All three men looked…worried.

  “Don’t die,” Deacon said.

  She nodded then plunged into the trees.

  32

  The journey through the forest was dark and difficult for an ordinary human woman, but Cary kept up with the two Nagas as best she could. Her jacket caught on branches, a stray limb tore a slit in her jeans, and her boots felt heavier with each step. She ignored all the discomforts and concentrated on jogging after her guides.

  At one point, they stopped and Nira’s brother raised his hand for silence. She gulped in air as quietly as she could. His head wove from side to side and his tongue—forked even in human form—flickered out to taste the air. The other Naga remained silent, waiting. Then Nira’s brother motioned them in a new direction.

  They came out of the trees at the edge of a large river bed. A steady stream of water, no more than a foot deep and two feet wide flowed down the middle of the bed. The Nagas led her into the water, then turned to walk upstream. Nira’s brother held her wrist to keep her close.

  Her boots squelched. Her socks and the lower part of her jeans clung wetly to her calves and feet. But at least the water was cool, and the stream easier to traverse than the thick trees and underbrush.

  She turned her wrist so she could squeeze her guide’s hand. Without slowing, he looked over his shoulder.

  Her foot slipped on a slick stone. She regained her balance and whispered, “Why are we walking through water? To throw off the scent?”

  He shook his head and gestured toward the woods bracketing the river bed.

  She gasped. Running along the bank, just inside the tree line, were two large wolves. They stopped and stared right at the spot where Cary and the two Nagas were standing. Sniffing the air, they turned their heads, looking up and down the river. Then the front wolf made a soft whining noise and shook its head. Both animals ran back into the trees.

  “They saw us?” Cary murmured, her heart pounding.

  “No,” Nira’s brother said and continued upstream.

  “No?”

  “We are not visible as long as we remain in the water.”

  Wow. Cool trick.

  Several more members of Holland’s army crossed their path, but the Naga’s magic held and they were never spotted. She wondered if Deacon and his escort were doing the same thing to avoid the army.

  Finally, after a long pause to taste the air, Nira’s brother led her out of the water and back into the trees. They picked up the pace, stretching out into a loping jog with Nira’s brother in front and the other Naga taking up the rear. Cary focused on the ground and tried not to trip. One more tree branch caught her as they ran, slashing a thin line across her cheek. She fingered the blood and sighed. Chances were good this wouldn’t be the only blood she shed tonight.

  The Nagas stopped suddenly and she bounced off Nira’s brother’s back. She had to catch herself on a tree to keep from falling.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “Are we here?”

  He pointed to a rocky out-cropping which looked like a dozen others they’d passed. “This is it.”

  The second Naga male who hadn’t spoken during the entire journey had shifted to his snake form while she wasn’t paying attention. He slithered past her, into the rocks, disappearing into the mounds. She couldn’t see any cracks to indicate an actual entrance, though.

  “Which direction does the city spread from the entrance?” she asked, still frowning at the rocks.

  Nira’s brother traced an arch with one arm.

  “So between this entrance and the direction Holland’s coming from, there’s no part of the city?”

  “No. Is that important?”

  She shook her head. “I just like visualizing what I’m protecting. It helps me focus while I’m channeling the power.” She shrugged her jacket off and wiped a hand down her face. “Why the hell is it so hot?” she muttered to herself.

  “That’s caused by our defenses,” the Naga supplied. “And the power we’re exerting to establish another link to this realm.”

  “You said you can’t close this entrance before doing that. Why?” So much of Naga lore was conjecture and uncertain, she wasn’t sure if anything she knew about them, the few facts she h
ad, were even true.

  “Without some link to this realm,” he said, “our city will die. We need the earth, water, and energy we get from this realm to maintain our position outside of it.”

  “And it takes a lot of time to form the new link?” she asked.

  “And a lot of our energy. Between that and the defense against the demon’s army, we have been using a lot of magic. The demon has been probing the area for many weeks now. His sorcerers and wizards have dried the skies and forced the rivers to run low.”

  That explained the unseasonably dry weather the last couple of weeks.

  “We require the water for our magic,” he continued. “So without it, we’re at risk. But we couldn’t let the demon find our city. To remain hidden, we had to tap into ancient rituals from our place of origin.”

  Cary frowned. “And that’s causing this heat?”

  He almost smiled, though the expression didn’t convey much amusement. “India magic is hot magic.”

  She didn’t really understand, but there wasn’t enough time to question him further. Instead, she asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Zakin.”

  “Zakin, thank you for your help.” She glanced at the entrance again. “Can you tell if Deacon and the others have come this way yet?”

  “They are inside.” When she frowned, he said, “The other Naga with us confirmed this after he went in.” At her continued frown, he added, “We have a form of communication that isn’t audible to humans, more to do with vibration and taste than actual sound.”

  “Ah.” That sort of made sense. Knowing Deacon, Jon, and Jaxer were safe inside the city eased some of her worry.

  She glanced at the trees, in the direction she knew Holland was coming from. “You’d better get inside, too,” she said. “The army will be here soon.” She could almost hear them now, though she suspected Zakin had an even better sense of where the invaders were. She glanced back to see him staring at her.