Sacrifice

by Dakota Banks

Maliha had no argument she could offer against Master Liu’s constancy. It ruled his life, and she had no proof one way or another about any return of the gods. She couldn’t imagine the experiences of his lifetime. All she knew was that she had felt Anu’s hand on her life, specifically on the balance of her scales and the amount of her aging. Even more concrete than that, she had seen and talked to one of Anu’s offspring; visited Midworld, where their two worlds intersected; and been thrust briefly into Rabishu’s hell, where he tortured those who had fallen under his sway.

  She used some of her weapons for a brief, intense work-out on the wooden planks, cleaned them so that no drop of sweat remained, and took a shower with the hot water set at such force it felt like it was needling her all over.

  In a thin white gown that stuck to her damp skin, Maliha went to her sleeping area. It was a Japanese tatami mat, woven of straw, on a wooden floor. Unrolling a thin futon on top of the mat, she lay down and looked at the sparkling low-voltage lights suspended from her ceiling like stars. After a while, she said, “Lights out.”

  In the dark, in her safe place, she was free to evaluate her experiences, feeling the doubts, the longings that often didn’t get a chance to surface—especially in the middle of a firefight. That included weaknesses of her body that she usually had to conceal.

  Never show an enemy a weakness, Master Liu would say, or he will know where to add to it.

  She checked over all the parts of her body, working on the hurt places, the wounds, concentrating on helping them speed up their healing. Then she let her mind wander.

  All those questions Randy asked about Jake, and then the one thing I was most worried about she just brushed off. He’s mysterious, and that excuses a lot. Flaws, phooey.

  In her haven, in the dark, Maliha could let the words take shape that represented deep fears.

  I bear the guilt of doing great evil. Some days it nearly rips me up inside. All those people, dead by my hand. Why didn’t I come to my senses earlier? A century earlier would have meant so many lives saved. Instead I stayed young, had a great time traveling all over, bedding princes and sheiks, and the payment was a growing pile of corpses. Never enough blood to satisfy Rabishu, though. I’m so ashamed. Would any good man want me as a wife, knowing what I’ve done in the past? Bedmate, yes. But soul mate? Would Jake, if he truly knew me?

  She closed her eyes and let tears slide down her cheeks.

  Chapter Seven

  Maliha awoke before dawn. She’d been restless all night, and knew what she had to do. She got up, turned on some lights, and before she could think of reasons not to, she called Jake. He answered on the fourth ring.

  “It’s me. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, no, I was up doing some paperwork.”

  She could hear the sleepiness in his voice. She pictured Jake sitting on the edge of his bed in boxers, shaking his head, trying hard to sound like he’d been awake.

  “Are you alone? I mean, would it be okay if I came over?”

  “Yeah, that would be great. Come on over and I’ll fix us some breakfast. Or you want me to come pick you up?”

  “No, I’ll be there.”

  Maliha decided it was time to stretch her aching muscles. She dressed in black, braided her hair, concealed her knives, and added a sweatshirt for warmth. In spite of the unusually warm weather, cold winds from Lake Michigan could change things quickly. When she left, the sky was the deep lavender that preceded sunrise. Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up, she sped through streets that were deserted except for early grocery deliveries of fresh produce, milk, and bread. Her thoughts were of her complaining muscles at first and then of the rhythm of her footsteps. When she reached the McKinley Park neighborhood, her feet took her into the park instead of directly to Jake’s house.

  I could go home. Consider this a morning run. Call Jake and tell him I felt ill or something.

  The thought was tempting. She draped herself on a bench near the lagoon. The run had been only a dozen miles or so, not enough to tire her or even break a sweat. He was expecting her for breakfast. She wanted to go in. Her love for Jake had been growing when the wedge between them suddenly surfaced….

  Two Months Earlier

  She rode the elevator in the Harbor Point Towers building to the forty-eighth floor. At the door to her private and very secure haven, the biometric sensor welcomed her by name after identifying her by retinal scan.

  She navigated the trap in the foyer meant to stop unwanted visitors. The spotlights snapped off and the door closed behind her.

  “Lights, low.”

  Instead of moving into the room, she paused. Something was wrong. There was dampness in the air, and the barely detectable scent of the orchid shampoo she used. Yet she hadn’t been here in more than two weeks. It was as if someone had been using the haven in her absence.

  Her eyes grew wide as she realized the situation. She’d walked into a trap.

  Maliha flattened against the wall of the hallway. She was in a bad position, trapped in a dead end area, in limbo between the exterior hallway and a weapons cache right up ahead, around the bend in the hallway.

  Whoever was inside knew she was coming. She’d given that away with the flash of the spotlights and then her voice. She could back up, hit the switch to open the door, and then dive out into the hall. Better to leave now, if she could, and return better prepared. She could visit the armory in one of her scattered safe houses and come back prepared, even though she’d still be at a disadvantage.

  “You can come out now.”

  It was Jake Stackman’s familiar voice. She’d been dating him for several months.

  Her shoulders sagged with relief. Her legs felt limp as the adrenaline rush that had prepared her for action started to fade. Then she remembered the switch on the wall of the foyer that stopped the darts. As fast as her elation had arrived, it now fled.

  Jake was inside her safe haven.

  Why didn’t he trigger the darts? Why is he still alive?

  Anyone who could penetrate the safeguards of her haven was a deadly enemy, whether extraordinarily clever human or Ageless. She pressed herself into a defensive position against the wall as her emotions balled into a cold lump in her heart.

  I have to kill him. Now. Somehow.

  The weapons she had with her weren’t promising—only two throwing knives and a short knife for close work.

  “Something wrong over there? It’s about time you got here, by the way. I’ve been here for hours.”

  He was in motion and his voice sounded much closer. He was coming to see why there was a delay—coming to trap her in her dead-end foyer. Getting caught here was giving up. She had to flee or take the fight to him.

  She pulled her close knife from its sheath inside the waistband of her jeans and held it at the ready. She pictured the layout. Around the corner was her weapons cache with swords, guns, explosives, things that might give her a fighting chance. The problem was that from the sound of his voice, Jake was closer to it than she was, and an advantage of even a few inches for an Ageless man could be too much to overcome.

  The stakes were as high as they could be—if she died now, her quest to balance the lives she’d taken as the Black Ghost with lives saved since she became mortal would fail. She would suffer uncounted years of torture at the hands of Rabishu—she’d lose the chance to redeem her soul. Even worse, she would have failed in her attempt to destroy the seven demons.

  A tear slid down her cheek. Jake, I thought you were the one.

  She pushed away the regret. If she survived, she’d have time for that. Maliha bent her legs, tensed her muscles, and then sprang around the corner. He was there, right up near her—she’d let him get too close. Her judgment was screwed up, and the hesitation was going to cost her.

  She stabbed his thigh as she went by, then she hit the wall of the weapons cache and spun around with a sword in her hand. She felt a little less naked.

  Jake was down. Against the odds, she’
d surprised him and landed a blow. She shoved off from the wall to press her advantage. Half a second later, she was on him, her sword balanced at his throat. The edge of her weapon drew blood. All she had to do was lean her weight on the sword, sending the edge deeply into his flesh.

  She’d delayed so long that by now he should have thrown her off. Instead, he went still beneath her.

  A ruse?

  She saw his lips move, forming the shape of her name with no sound.

  Act, damn it—do it!

  Her hands weren’t obeying her mind, they were taking orders from her heart. The blade broke the skin in a short line that welled with blood but went no further.

  What if I’m wrong?

  She rolled off him, kept going, and came to her knees a short distance away. Then she rose to her feet and dashed back toward the door.

  “I love you,” came from the man down on her floor. She hesitated, and then kept going. She had to get away from the shock, the fear that she’d killed the human Jake or failed to kill the Ageless Jake when she had the chance.

  Out in the hall, she kept going. She ran down the fire stairs and toward the front door. Arnie, eyes wide at the sight of her with bloody clothes and a sword, tried to wave her down before she made it out the door, but she weaved past him and ran outside.

  On the large portico outside, she halted her unthinking rush, realized that heads were turning to look at her, and quickly made it back into the stairwell. Climbing back to the forty-eighth floor, she dreaded what she would find.

  “I love you,” Jake said. I’m going to find his body, bled out from the leg wound. Or his wound healed instantly and he’s waiting to kill me with my own weapons.

  She entered her haven with caution. There was neither a welcoming voice nor a cry of pain. Edging around the corner, her sword at the ready, she smelled blood.

  And that’s all there was, a stain on her carpet. Jake was gone.

  The next day she called Jake’s number at work and was told he’d taken a few sick days.

  “Old leg wound acting up, he says. Would you like to leave a message?”

  Maliha was relieved Jake was alive but that didn’t go far enough to answer her questions. As the days went by, it became easier to hide behind a curtain of not knowing what had happened than to face the truth: she’d raised her hand against the man she thought was her true love, and had come within milliseconds of chopping off his head.

  Where’s the trust in this relationship?

  She’d kept track of him, had known that between then and now he’d spent most of his time overseas, in Afghanistan working with tribal leaders on deals to replace the poppy crop. She’d been in Africa, with Glass. Lines of communication were shaky, but if they’d both desired it, they could have found a way to talk before now. Before she found herself on a bench a couple of blocks from his house, thinking of calling the whole thing off.

  The sunrise brought with it a heavy fog that normally would have been ice laden at this time of year. Instead, it began to soak through her clothing, leaving her chilled. She took it as a sign that she’d dallied too much in the park. She left the bench and headed for the park exit.

  Left turn, home. Right, Jake’s house.

  She turned right and hurried the last two blocks. Jake opened the door before she knocked.

  How does he do that? Cameras?

  Mundane questions were swept from her head as he pulled her inside and gathered her in his arms. His kiss left her dizzy with love.

  Too fast! Get rational.

  She pulled back and studied him. At arm’s length, his physical presence was as powerful as if he were a giant magnet and she were a pile of iron filings. He was fit, broad shouldered, with a solid abdomen and lean waist. His naturally curly black hair made her want to run her hands through it, but instead she put her finger over the scar on his chin. He claimed he’d smacked it on a car door, but she knew a scar from a blade when she saw one.

  But that scar could have been made before he became Ageless. I still have one from my time as a colonial wife.

  “Drop your pants,” she said.

  Jake blinked and stepped back a bit. “I, uh, thought we’d have a talk and maybe some breakfast, but if you want…”

  “What I want is to see your left thigh where I stabbed you.”

  “Oh. I think we should talk first.”

  She edged backward a little and put one hand on the doorknob, the other in position to draw the short knife sheathed inside her waistband. There was only one reason he would be reluctant to show the wounded area.

  I shouldn’t have come. Too much risk.

  “Okay, don’t leave.”

  “Do I have your word you won’t attack?”

  As though that would do much good if he’s evil, but at least it’s something.

  “Yes, damn it. Get it over with.” He unfastened his belt and did as she requested.

  Maliha took her hand from the doorknob and ran it up his thigh from his knee to up under his boxers, moving back and forth, feeling for a scar. She heard a slight gasp from Jake, but continued her search visually by dropping to one knee and taking a close-up look at his thigh. Maliha stood, and he pulled his pants back up over the bulge in his boxers.

  “Still want to talk? Or are you going to dash out of here?” Jake said, as he fastened his belt.

  She’d determined that he had no scar from her stab wound.

  “You’re Ageless. What else is there to talk about? I’ll leave now, and the next time we meet I’ll try my best to kill you.”

  “We don’t have to be enemies. I’d still like to have that talk. You know nothing about me.”

  “I know enough. I know that you’re a demon’s assassin and the demons know I’m a rogue. I can’t imagine any of the demons have warm feelings in their hearts for me.”

  “They don’t, assuming they have hearts. But my demon, Idiptu, no longer cares about what happens in the Great Above. I don’t have any orders to kill you. I don’t have any orders at all. Come in and sit down. I gave my word I wouldn’t attack you.”

  He extended his hand to Maliha. After a brief hesitation, she took it and let him lead her to an upholstered chair in the living room. He had a fire set in the fireplace, and now lighted it with a long match. She noted that they both started fires the same way, not with crumpled newspaper, fatwood, or commercial fire starters, but with a pile of wood shavings, curled and aromatic, under an expertly placed stack of kindling. He blew a few times until the shavings were blazing, then sat a few feet away in another chair, avoiding the couch where they’d made passionate love in the past. They both watched as flames spread to the kindling. Jake added a few logs and settled back in his chair.

  “Not only can I build fires, I can survive on wild berries.”

  “A merit badge for you.”

  A smile passed over his face but dissolved into earnestness. “I want so much for this to work out. I love you. If you don’t or can’t love me, then I respect that and we go our separate ways. I’ll get a transfer to another city to make it easier. Ask me anything, Marsha.”

  The fire was taking the morning chill out of the room. Maliha pulled off her damp sweatshirt to let the warmth reach her skin. “First, stop calling me Marsha. That’s my temporary name for the public, and we’re beyond that. I go by Maliha Crayne. Explain the rules of your contract with Idiptu.”

  “My contract is just like the one you had. Obey without question and in return receive immortality and certain other gifts to help with the demon’s assignments.”

  “What are your gifts?”

  Jake’s eyebrows rose. “You mean the gifts come in flavors?”

  “Just answer.”

  “Extremely rapid healing and movement. Very sensitive hearing. I can hear your blood moving in your body. The hearing operates over a distance, too, but I have to focus on it. Yours?”

  Interesting about the hearing. I’m supposed to be asking the questions here. But we can’t have a trusting rela
tionship if he’s the only one doing the trusting.

  “Same healing and speed of movement, diminished now that I broke the contract. I can see auras. I’m not sure if that came with the contract or if it was something I was born with and gradually learned how to use. It didn’t lessen after I went rogue.”

  Jake nodded. “I got my training—”

  “With Master Liu?”

  He doesn’t have the shou character branded on his shoulder.

  “Yes, and I know what you’re going to ask. I don’t have the brand on my shoulder that you do because Liu and I, let’s say we didn’t get along. He didn’t ask me to join his school. He knew I wouldn’t swear loyalty to him.”

  “Because?”

  “That’s something I’ll have to withhold, Maliha. Ask Liu. Maybe he’ll tell you, but I doubt it.”

  I’m curious, but curiosity’s not enough of a reason for me to know something between him and Master Liu. I’ve got my secrets, too. She nodded for him to continue.

  “After training, I went to work as an assassin for the first couple of hundred years. Then the assignments thinned out, and finally my demon told me that I could live my life as I chose and he wouldn’t be calling on me anymore. He’d lost interest in humans and now spends all of his time thinking about older days, when the rest of the Sumerian gods were here on Earth. I think he might be pining after some lover who left the Earth when he got left behind.”

  “The demons can appear in any form. I don’t know if they have gender the way we think of it.”

  “Okay, it might be pining after a lover. Are you an expert on their mating habits?”

  Maliha remembered a time when Rabishu appeared in the form of a black panther that had a void in its center, causing fog to swirl away into it like a black hole.

  His teeth parted and out came the tongue, red and obscene. It played lazily over her chest, licking up the blood, and then drifted onto her breasts. She felt his agile tail stroking her legs in a sensuous way. Then the tip of the tail, now hard and hot, squirmed between her legs.

  She stiffened beneath him and clenched her thighs shut, wondering if he was planning to rape her and what she could do to stop him. So far she hadn’t been able to stop him from doing anything he wanted, including driving his claws completely through her flesh, a violation of a different sort….