“You got any superspecial witch powers we should be aware of?” Roth asked.
Gerald shook his head. “I’m just good with charms and spells—like love and fortune stuff.”
Love spells? That perked my interest for some weird reason, but now really wasn’t the time to investigate that further. The footsteps drew closer, tracking down the other row of lockers, and Roth dropped his chin. “Then you better get your ass out of here.”
I took a step back, avoiding the slime on the floor. His eyes glowed a fiery amber as they met mine. “And you need to leave, too.”
“No,” I said, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m trained, you— Whoa.”
The thing had rounded the end of the lockers, and it was completely, buck-ass naked. Not like that was the most disturbing thing about the creature.
It was shaped like a man, standing nearly seven feet tall. Muscles rippled under shiny, moonstone-colored skin. Two thick horns jutted from the top of its head, curving inward. The points were sharp, and I had no doubt that if this Nightcrawler head-butted someone, it wouldn’t end prettily. Pupils shaped like a feline’s were set in irises the color of blood. And it smiled, flashing two razor-sharp fangs.
Roth was so damn fast.
Whipping down, he pulled two long, slender instruments out of the sides of his boots. Iron blades. I had no idea. Wow. The fact that he carried something so deadly to his own kind...was really sort of badass.
He slammed into the Nightcrawler, shoving his blades into its midsection. The Nightcrawler roared, knocking Roth to the side. He hit a locker with a grunt. Metal gave way, and he dropped the blades. One landed in the gunk, the other skidded across the floor.
“Blessed be,” muttered Gerald, backing up.
Pushing down the bitter fear that was useless, I darted across the floor, swiping up a blade. Roth had wrapped a black cloth along the handle, but I could still feel the heat of the iron as I rose.
Roth shouted at me, and my adrenaline kicked my senses into high gear as the Nightcrawler whirled on me. It cocked its head to the side, sniffing the air through bull-shaped nostrils, as if it couldn’t figure out what I was.
Charging the Nightcrawler, I came up short when it simply vanished and then reappeared behind me. I spun around. Two puncture holes in its heavily muscled stomach bled a white substance.
I swung on the Nightcrawler, and it popped out of existence, reappearing a few steps to the left. Dropping down like Zayne had taught me, I went for the creature’s legs, remembering just then that the thing was really, legitimately naked.
Yuck.
Before my kick could connect, the Nightcrawler dipped to the side, opening its mouth. I lurched to the right as a stream of white acidic-smelling liquid shot from its mouth. Momentarily distracted by that, I didn’t move quickly enough when it swung out with a heavy, clawed hand. I jumped back, but its claws ripped through the front of my sweater, snagging me. The air went out of my lungs as my eyes locked with the thing. There was a quick burning sensation, and then the Nightcrawler stumbled to the side.
It spun on Roth. Moving disturbingly fast, it caught the other blade Roth now held in his hand and snapped it into two.
“Crap,” muttered Roth.
Then it had its hand around Roth’s throat, lifting him off the ground. Its body vibrated as it cocked back its head, baring lethal fangs, preparing another venomous spray. Gripping the meaty wrists, Roth pulled his legs up and used the Nightcrawler’s chest as a springboard. The action broke the creature’s hold, and Roth hit the floor, springing back to his feet.
I rushed around the rotted bench, hitting the stunned Nightcrawler in the back with the kind of kick Zayne would’ve been proud of. I swung back the hand that held the blade, prepared to deliver the jerk back to Hell with a direct stab to the heart.
The Nightcrawler popped out, and I hit the floor, catching myself at the last second before I face-planted in a bunch of muck. Reappearing above me, it grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and lifted me right off my feet.
Bambi shifted across my stomach as pain exploded down my spine from the tight grip, but I swung my leg back, connecting my foot where it counted. Howling, the Nightcrawler dropped me and bent over, cupping itself.
I landed on my feet and swung around, seeing Roth coming up behind it. Not wasting a moment of having the upper hand, I slammed the iron blade into its chest, jerking back quickly. White mist streamed out of the wound, fizzing in the air. The Nightcrawler’s howl ended abruptly as it burst into flames. Within seconds, nothing remained but a patch of scorched floor.
Breathing heavily, I staggered back a step as I lowered the blade. My eyes met Roth’s. He looked shell-shocked as he stared at me. “What?” I huffed out.
He shook his head slowly. “I forgot you could fight. And I forgot how incredibly hot that is.”
My eyes met his for a moment and then I glanced at the lockers, then over to where Gerald had plastered himself against a wall. A look of abject horror filled his expression. “You said almost all of these lockers are full of those things?”
Gerald nodded.
Stomach tumbling, I swiped the fine sheen of sweat off my forehead. “That’s problematic.”
“I could clean them out,” Roth suggested.
“What if there are more about to wake up? There’s no way you can take on more than one of these things at a time.”
He frowned at me.
I sighed. “Don’t be an idiot. It has nothing to do with your skills. We barely took one of them out together.” I flicked my gaze to Gerald. Some of the color was returning to his face. “Sorry, but we need to bring the Wardens in on this. I won’t tell them about you, but I’d make sure you stay hidden while they’re here.”
Gerald nodded again.
Roth slipped his now-broken blade back into his boot and then stalked across the room. Without saying a word he held his hand out, and I forked over the other blade.
“Why would so many be down here? It has to do with the Lilin, right?”
“Has to be.” A troubled look pinched his features. “Unless the cocoon isn’t actually from a Lilin.”
A dull ache picked up in my temples as I stared up at him. “I thought you were confident it was from a Lilin.”
“I was, but...” He looked at the lockers for a moment and then his brows furrowed. Turning back to me, he frowned as he leaned in. Too close.
I stepped back, putting a space between us.
Roth followed, his lashes lowering for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were crystal bright. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Yes.” I glanced down at myself, seeing the tears in my chunky sweater. My stomach didn’t hurt though. “I’m not sure.”
His intense regard strengthened. “Shortie...”
As he reached for me, I stepped back. “I’m fine. Remember? I just killed a Nightcrawler.”
I felt as if he should be more focused on that. I kind of felt like a ninja.
“You need to let me check you over.” He got all grabby hands again, this time managing to wrap his fingers around the hem of my sweater. The material was pulled taut, revealing the three jagged tears.
He let out a harsh curse. “Did it claw you?”
“Hey!” I smacked at his hands, but no more than a second later, he revealed the off-white tank top I’d worn underneath the sweater. It was dotted with red just above my belly button.
“Layla,” he whispered, going for that piece of material next.
“Stop!” I snapped free. “I’ve had enough of you, Gropey McGropers! I’m fine. My stomach doesn’t even hurt. It’s just a scratch.”
Gerald was still plastered against the wall.
Roth’s jaw tightened as he glared at me. “You need to stop acting like a fool. A Nightcrawler’s—”
“None of its venom got on me.”
“But it clawed you.” He spoke as if I was a five-year-old that didn’t understand logic. “I need to get you back to my place where I
can—”
My obnoxiously harsh laugh cut him off. “Of all the nerve! You really think I’m going to fall for that?”
“Layla—”
“Shut up, Roth. Seriously.” I stormed around him and headed for the stairs, stopping long enough to address a petrified-looking Gerald. “I’ll get the Wardens down here as soon as possible.”
Swallowing hard, he exhaled harshly. “I’ll make sure no one else comes down here.”
Praying that I could actually rouse all the Wardens and they could get down here pronto without causing a stir, I hurried up the steps. By the time I reached the last one, my skin felt clammy and I was out of breath. Had to be the adrenaline from the fighting. It couldn’t be my stomach because it didn’t even hurt.
I pushed open the doors and walked across the dank, smelly gymnasium when Bambi started slithering up my leg.
“Layla! Stop right now!”
The authority in his voice, the audacity to issue me an order spun me right around, but when I stopped...the room kept spinning, a kaleidoscope of grays and blacks. “That’s not right.”
“What?” Roth’s face blurred.
The edges of my vision darkened. “Oh crap.”
I was vaguely aware of Roth shooting forward as my legs just stopped working. They folded underneath me and then there was nothing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the stony profile of Roth, and he was focused straight ahead, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. I was curled in the front seat of his Porsche.
I dragged in a breath. My thoughts were murky. “What...?”
He glanced at me and something like concern radiated from his golden gaze. “We’re almost there, shortie.”
“How...?” I swallowed, but my throat felt parched. I remembered what happened but had no idea how I’d ended up in his car. “How did...you get me out of school?”
One side of his lips curved up as he returned his attention to the road. “I’ve got skills.”
There was a good chance the school would call home since I was missing my afternoon classes, and my heart pounded sluggishly. More so because of wherever he could be taking me. I tried to sit up, but all I managed to do was slide further into a ball.
“You’ve got to take me back to school,” I gasped out. “I can’t go to your apartment.”
“Don’t be illogical,” Roth replied evenly. “A Nightcrawler’s claws are infectious, and I really can’t treat you in the middle of the hallway, can I? It’s bad enough that I have to drive. Too risky to take flight during the day.”
“I can call Zayne,” I reasoned, squeezing my eyes shut as my stomach muscles cramped.
He didn’t respond, and I groaned. “I think I’m going to vomit.”
Instead of Roth telling me not to do that in his pretty little Porsche, I heard the engine rev and felt the car push forward.
“We’re almost there,” he said, voice tight.
I didn’t want to go to his apartment, but other than diving out of the car, I wasn’t in the condition to put up much of a fight.
Things were a blur for a little while. Concentrating on not hurling all over myself, I kept my eyes closed. I felt the car stopping and registered the change in light behind my closed lids. I didn’t really follow the whole process of Roth getting me into his apartment building, which was a good thing, because I was sure it involved him carrying me.
“This is familiar,” announced a smooth, cultured voice as a door swung shut behind us and the faint scent of apples teased my nose.
“Shut up, Cayman.”
A deep chuckle irritated me, and I tried not to think about the first time I’d been here, sort of in the same position. “Look, I’m just pointing out that this is becoming a habitual behavior and we should—”
The slamming door jarred me and cut off whatever else Cayman was saying. A second later, I was laid down on a bed—Roth’s bed. I peeled open my eyes and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Seeing the familiar white walls lined with the DVDs and books that had been there before...the piano in the corner...even the macabre paintings that bordered on the disturbing...it was a punch to the chest and didn’t help with the sensitivity of my stomach. My feet dangled an inch off the floor, and I thought of the little vamp kitties who’d been both tattoos and pets. I wondered whether they were back now, hiding under his bed, prepared to sink their little fangs into any exposed skin.
I couldn’t be here.
As Roth backed off, I started to sit up. He shot me a look of warning. “Sit still. The more you move, the more the infection will spread and this won’t be an easy fix.”
My chest rose and fell heavily as I watched him go to the black fridge in his small kitchen. Opening the door, he reached in and pulled out a water bottle that had been stripped of its label. I watched him warily as he approached the bed.
“Holy water.” He shook the bottle slightly. “The demonic equivalent of peroxide.”
“You normally keep holy water in your fridge?”
He stopped in front of me. “You never know when you’ll need it.”
I couldn’t foresee a lot of situations when a demon would be in need of holy water. “Am I supposed to drink it?”
His face contorted in disgust. “You’re part demon, Layla. You drink this and you’ll be spewing vomit like a possessed chick. Since it’s normally used against demons, it can heal an injury inflicted by another demon, depending on the wound and all that good stuff.”
“Then what am I supposed to do with it?”
A small grin appeared. “Take your shirt off.”
I stared at him.
His brows rose. “I’m being serious. I need to put this—” he shook the bottle again “—on the scratches.”
It took me a second to respond. “I’m not taking my shirt off.”
“Yes, you are.”
Rising onto my elbows, I met his determined gaze with my own. “You’re on crack if you think I’m removing a single stitch of clothing.”
“Like I said before, crack is whack.” He grinned while I glared at him. “Your shirt needs to come off, shortie. The reason your stomach doesn’t hurt is because you’ve got some venom or blood soaking through your sweater. It’s numbing your skin and having venom all up on you isn’t really going to be conducive to healing. The top needs to go.”
I glanced down. With the darkness of my sweater, it was impossible to see if there was demon blood on it.
Roth came closer, crouching by the bed. “No need to be shy.”
“It’s not that,” I sputtered, forcing myself into an upright position. The room tilted a little and I closed my eyes.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen you before.”
“Oh my God,” I moaned. “That is not the point.”
Roth sighed. “Look, we’re wasting time. You’re going to get sicker and this holy water won’t work. It’s as simple as that, so stop being a girl and take off your sweater.”
Prying my eyes open, I struggled with my erratic pulse. I saw it in his steady gaze then. If I didn’t take off the sweater, he was going to and that would be worse. I could do this. He felt nothing for me. Fine. I felt nothing for him now. Great. I was a big girl.
I muttered a curse under my breath and reached down, carefully taking off the sweater and tank top in one pull. As I dropped the oh-so offending material onto the floor, I cast my gaze to my stomach.
It really didn’t look that...bad.
The claws had just grazed me, but the three marks were a dark, angry red and tiny little lines were branching out from the cuts like veins.
After a few tense seconds, I realized Roth hadn’t moved. Where in the Hell was the whole “time is of the essence” crap? I lifted my gaze and saw that he seriously hadn’t moved at all.
Still crouched by the bed, the bottle of holy water dangled from his long fingertips. He was staring at me with the same kind of intensity he had in the locker rooms, but th
ere was a heat behind his golden eyes and his stare was fixed on my chest. At least Bambi wasn’t using my boob as a pillow this time. Her diamond-shaped head was resting against my lower stomach now.
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