by J. Kenner
"You can trust me, Lily."
"No," I said. "How about this—you can trust me. Let me in, Deacon. You think your reality can be any worse than my imagination? Or is there something in there you really don't want me to know?” I took a step closer, and the heat between us arced like electricity. "Like the reason no one seems to want you dead."
"They don't want me dead? Or they don't want to risk trying to kill me?" He cupped the back of my neck with his head. "I've destroyed more than you ever will, Lily. I could destroy you right now if I wanted to. No, don't argue. You know I'm right."
I did know, and the knowledge scared me. But, dammit, it also excited me.
"I want you, Lily. I want you, and I need you." He tilted my chin up. "You know what we can accomplish together. Work with me."
"I'm not sacrificing Rose."
"I know." He stepped away, his back to me. "There's a way to save her."
"Move her soul out into another body?"
He turned around, and I shrugged.
"I have sources, too. And I don't like that solution. I'm not killing so that Rose can live. Not unless I'm sure I have to." It was, I realized, the first time I'd voiced the truth about the matter. And while a part of me hated that I could do that—that I could take an innocent life to use as a shell for my sister—another part of me was relieved to know that possibility was out there. A solution, dangling out for me to take if I was desperate enough.
Whether I would ever be desperate enough to do to an innocent what Clarence and company did to me . . . That, I didn't know.
"There may be another way," Deacon said, gaining my instant attention. "It's risky, but . . ."
"What?"
"The Vessel of the Keeper."
“The what?"
"It has a fancier name," Deacon said, "but the translation describes it best."
"What is it?"
"A vessel," he said. "Like a pot or a jar. I don't know exactly. I've never seen it."
"And?" I prompted, though I really didn't need to prompt. I had a feeling I knew what this vessel did. It held souls. And Deacon was going to suggest that it hold Rose's.
"Only until we can find a suitable body," he said, after he'd explained exactly that.
I shook my head. "No. No way."
"Why not? It's a perfect solution. Move her out. Destroy her body. And with any luck, destroy Johnson along with her."
"How? How do you move her out?"
He turned away from me. “I can handle that."
"Explain."
I watched his shoulders straighten before he turned back around. "I can send my essence into the body. I can push Rose out."
"And Johnson? He's just going to put up with that?"
"He may fight to stay. He may jump out."
"Out?" I repeated. "Where would he go?" A horrible thought occurred to me. "Oh, God. What if he went into your body?"
A small smiled danced at Deacon's mouth. "I'm glad to see the possibility mortifies you as much as me. But no. I have ways of protecting my body when I'm not in it."
"Oh." I pondered the idea some more, thinking about what would happen to Rose. "So she lives in a pot like some creature out of an old Star Trek episode?" That really wasn't sounding appealing to me.
"We find a body," Deacon said patiently.
"I'm not killing an innocent to provide for my sister."
He pointed to the oily stains on the floor. "What would have happened if you'd killed with a different knife?"
"The bodies would still be there," I said slowly. "Empty. Just dead."
"Exactly."
I shook my head, the idea creeping me out. "She wouldn't be herself anymore."
"Are you still yourself?"
I frowned, because I honestly wasn't sure of the answer.
He cupped my chin. "Lily, he's killing her body anyway. She's running out of time. And so is the world. I need you with me, looking for the key. And you need Rose free of Johnson. This is the way, Lily. It's the only way."
"But a demon body . . ." I protested.
"It's not about the body. It's about the essence. You know that, Lily. You of all people know that."
He was right. I did. I didn't like it, but I knew it.
"All right," I finally said. "Where is it?"
He frowned. "Well, that's the problem. I don't know. I've been doing research, but I haven't located it yet."
It was my turn to frown. "Not exactly helpful."
He traced his fingers lazily up and down my arm. “Too bad we don't have access to a map that can find lost objects."
I lifted my brow. "Great idea. I'll just ask Clarence to tell me how to figure out the incantation for conjuring a portal."
He aimed a significant look at me. "You don't have to ask."
I took an involuntary step backward. "No way. You want me in his head? I don't have any control. He'd know I was in there. Shit, Deacon. I'd have to kill him."
"If it gets Rose free, isn't it worth it? And if you kill him, you'll have his essence. You'll be an Incantor, Lily."
I bit my lower lip, weighing my options. Weighing the risk. Because as tempting as the plan was, unless I was certain it would work, I couldn't risk my sister.
On the floor, the stains from the two demons seemed to call out to me, reminding me of the danger of the world I lived in. I toed them, looking up at Deacon and deliberately changing the subject. "Why do they want me dead? All these demons. If they know I'm looking for the Oris Clef, shouldn't they be cheering me on from the sidelines?"
"Depends on the demon," he said casually. "The portal's open, so Armageddon is coming, and most of the demons are happy with the status quo. They don't want any one demon to have the Oris Clef. They don't want a demon king in the ranks."
I nodded. I hadn't considered that before.
"Others do want the power. They're not trying to kill you, but to capture you."
"But I'm no good without Clarence's incantations."
Deacon shrugged. "Maybe they don't know that."
"At least that explains the tattoo-faced demon. The one we ran into in China," I said, in response to Deacon's questioning look. "That was the second time I've met up with him, and I'm still alive."
Deacon was looking at me with the strangest expression.
“What?”
"You don't know who he is?"
“Why would I?" I asked, completely baffled. "He didn't stop to introduce himself."
"That was Gabriel, Lily. The archangel."
19
“Wait,” I said, completely freaking out. "An angel wants me dead?" I was doing all this fighting for good, and a freaking angel wanted me dead? What was wrong with that picture?
"I'm sorry, Lily," Deacon said, after I'd kicked one of the barstools so hard it went careening across the room.
"Was Johnson right?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Have I really sworn fealty to the demon side?"
"You haven't," Deacon said, putting his arms around me. "No more than I have."
I twisted back to look at him, because once upon a time, that was where his loyalty had lain.
"I renounced," he said, his voice harsh. "Believe me or don't, but I swear it's the truth. I renounced the dark, and still I was pushed away from the light."
I believed him. For better or for worse, I trusted Deacon. I could admit that finally, as he held me tight in his arms. I did trust him. But I still wanted inside his head. I wanted proof that my trust wasn't once again misplaced.
"I know angels aren't all white gowns and halos and harps," I said, "but warrior tats really weren't what I was expecting."
"But that's what he is," Deacon said. "A warrior."
"Then why does he want me? He could have killed me a half dozen times over—I'm certain of it. But I'm alive. And yet he still keeps coming. So what does he want with me?"
Deacon shook his head. "I don't know."
"I mean, I'm trying to do good. Doesn't God know that I'm trying to do good? Didn'
t He tell his angels?"
Deacon's mouth twitched. "I'm not sure heaven is run on a memo system."
"Well, why doesn't He just freaking ask me what I'm up to?”
"Lily," Deacon said, squeezing my hand, "I don't know. But I don't think that a sit-down is Gabriel's typical modus operandi."
I sighed and drew my knees up to my chest. "I have to fix this. Rose. The gate. The whole freaking Apocalypse. I have to make it better."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You will."
I could only hope that he was right.
I drew in a shaky breath. "They know who I am now. All of them. Demons. Angels." I twisted around to look at him directly. "Why haven't they come to my apartment? They come here to the pub, but never there."
"Protections," Deacon said. "Penemue had Clarence endow Alice's apartment with protections. Make sure the demons couldn't get in without being invited."
I nodded. That made sense. Though I supposed I needed to be even more on my guard from now that the memo about my secret identity had circulated and there was nothing to keep them off my street. I frowned, not worried about myself so much as I was about Rose.
"You can stay with me," Deacon said. "I assure you my place is safe. And secret."
I almost took him up on that but ended up shaking my head. "You don't want Johnson in your house," I said.
He nodded. “True enough. But for you, I'll take the risk."
"I don't know."
"It's a good idea," he said, then bent low and whispered his cell phone number into my ear, his voice holding so much heat I was certain I would either melt or change my mind and go home with him right then.
After all that drama, I really wasn't in the mood to go to Thirsty, but Gracie was expecting me, and I wasn't going to disappoint the one non-demon-related friend I now had in this world. I invited Deacon to join me, but he declined, his expression amused. Apparently whatever the parameters of our fledgling relationship were, they did not include the traditional, old-fashioned date.
Probably just as well. Because although I was not interested in Brian, he was interested in Alice. And even in my darkest funk, I knew that it would be beyond rude to show up at Thirsty with a date in tow.
"There you are!" Gracie said, as I pushed my way through the crowd to their booth. More restaurant than club, Thirsty still had a great dance floor, and tonight the patrons were making full use of the live band that management had brought in.
Brian scooted over, and I slid in next to him, the incubus in me picking up on his attraction. And, yeah, I felt the desire in me ratchet up. Felt the sensuality flare. And I felt the darkness in me murmuring that I could have this boy. Could do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted. And all the while, I would be thinking of Deacon.
I snatched up a menu and clutched it tight, determined to back those thoughts down. To fight the darkness that not only threatened to explode, but which threatened to make me hurt an innocent guy.
"We were beginning to wonder if you were going to stand us up," Brian said, leaning in close so that I could hear him over the music. His breath tickled my ear, and despite myself, I felt that tug of heat. I glanced away, torn between wanting the heat to dissipate and wanting to stoke it, and I found myself looking at the doorway—and right at Deacon.
The burn I'd been trying to push back erupted, and I knew then that I'd lost the battle. I hadn't yet learned to control my incubus side, and that was only too apparent with the way Brian now put his hand on my thigh. "So, um, Alice, do you want to dance?"
Gracie's eyes were narrow, but she didn't say anything. I left my coat on the seat, and Brian and I slid out of the booth, then eased onto the dance floor. "Do you want to do a movie sometime?" Brian asked, as I raised my arms above my head and let my hips move with the music. I'd been looking over his shoulder, watching Deacon, the way he stood straight and tall. The way a muscle twitched in his cheek.
I moved closer to Brian.
And, yeah, one part of me felt like a shit for doing it. For smiling at him when he slipped his hands around my waist. For arching my back so that our bodies brushed when my hips gyrated. I was driving both of us a little crazy—and Deacon, too.
That, of course, was what I'd wanted, what I craved. That sexual spark. And if the dark part in me wanted to use Brian to get there . . .
Well, I'm ashamed to admit that the part of me that knew better had been soundly subjugated.
"Alice?" Brian pressed, moving his arms up to hook around my neck. "The movie?"
I slid my fingers through his hair and spun around on the floor, giving Deacon my back, and then closing my eyes and letting myself pretend that I was in Deacon’s arms, not Brian's. "Maybe," I whispered. "Right now let's just dance." I wanted to do nothing more than move to the music. To be the old Lily, who danced and drank and bummed smokes off her friends. A Lily who didn't hunt demons and didn't care about the dark.
I could feel Brian's pulse increase, and I pressed closer, enjoying the fantasy. We moved together for a while, lost in lust and the music.
Then I felt Brian's erection and caught the intense thrum of his desire. I eased back, the bubble bursting. I wasn't the old Lily. Not by a long shot. And I wanted out of there. Wanted to make amends to this nice guy for the games I was playing. Games he probably didn't even realize were going on.
Someone tapped at my shoulder, and I whipped around, expecting to find Deacon.
Instead, my eyes met Gracie's, hers wide and disturbed.
"Gracie," I said, the buzz fizzling. "I'm sorry. I—"
"It's about Rachel," she said, thrusting my phone toward me. "It rang, and I couldn't catch your attention, and—"
I wasn't listening anymore. I had the phone up to my ear, and the man on the other line was telling me that he was from Carney Hospital and that Rachel had been assaulted.
I didn't hang around to hear the rest of it. With the phone plastered to my ear, I grabbed up my coat, signaled to a worried-looking Gracie and a dazed Brian that I was leaving, then raced out of Thirsty and gunned the bike to the hospital.
"Rachel Purdue," I said to the first person I saw with a name tag. "Where do I find her?"
"I'm sorry—"
"Patient. Emergency room. Assault victim."
"Right." The woman's voice was soft and calming, and she walked me to a set of double doors and pointed me down the proper hallway. "It'll be okay, honey," she said with a soft pat on my back.
I wasn't at all sure about that, but I jogged down the corridor until I reached the emergency room, then accosted yet another employee.
"She's doing well," the lanky redhead said. Her hair had been pulled back into a severe ponytail, and she moved with an efficient step to one of the small cubicles set up for ER patients. I followed her in, then exhaled in relief when I saw Rachel sitting up in bed, her face a black-and-blue mess, but her eyes bright and alert.
"What happened?" I ran forward and took her hands.
"Some of my old acquaintances weren't exactly thrilled that I decided to change the way I'm living my life."
I winced, understanding perfectly who the old friends were. "What did they do?"
"Jumped me. By my apartment." She twisted her head to look at me. "They said I ought to follow your example. You wanna tell me what they meant by that?"
I didn't, of course. And at the same time, I wanted her to know. I didn't want her to believe her sister had fallen in with the very thing that Rachel herself was trying to escape. And, yes, I realized that this could be one big, huge, honking trap. Use Alice's sister to bait me into revealing my true allegiance.
But do that, and they either had to kill me, or I'd have to run. Either way, they couldn't use my arm to find the rest of the relics.
So I figured I was safe.
Or maybe I was just rationalizing. Bottom line, I wanted Rachel to know the truth. I felt like I owed it to her. She'd lost a sister, after all.
"Alice," she pressed. "Do you know what they meant?"<
br />
I sat up straighter. "It means I'm doing something right," I said. "It means they think I'm working for the demons. And Rachel," I added, "my name really isn't Alice. I told you. I'm Lily."
"All right, Lily," she said in an exasperated tone. “Tell me. Tell me everything."
And I did. All of it. Or most of it. I left out a few bits. Like sex on the floor of the Bloody Tongue. I figured we could skip those details.
When I was finished, she was no longer looking at me like I was crazy. Instead, she closed her eyes and sank back into the thin hospital pillow. "My uncle Egan killed my sister."
"Yes."
"And a demon is trapped in your sister."
"Yes," I said. And this time my voice broke.
She rolled her head and opened her eyes to look at me. "And now you're killing demons."
"That's my plan. It's complicated. I have this whole double-agent thing going, and they—"
"I need to sleep."
I jerked back, almost as if her words were a physical blow. "What?”
"I need to sleep now," she said. She turned away from me, but I saw the way her shoulders hitched as she held back tears.
"I—okay." I stood up, wishing I could comfort her. I couldn't, though. She'd lost her sister, had her world shattered, and looking at me only reminded her of the horrible truth.
"So, I'll see you at the pub, okay?" But she didn't answer, and I slid out the door, feeling like this was all my fault. I don't know. Maybe it was.
I was still in a funk when I reached Zane's, then felt even more guilty because I had actually considered simply leaving my sister there with him. But she was my responsibility, demon warts and all, and even on a day when I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and moan about the sorry state of my life, I had to at least put on a responsible face.
A lesson in parenting that my stepfather had never understood.
It was late when I arrived, and I found Zane up, doing some sort of slow martial arts moves on the mat in the middle of the basement. He saw me, and even as he balanced on one foot, he held his finger to his lips, warning me that she was asleep. I nodded, then stood to the side, waiting for him to finish. When he did, he came toward me, glistening with sweat.