Dane released me and for a moment I feared that was the true reason he was there. As bait, to lure me in. Those suspicions died away when I remembered I'd been watching the church already. I'd planned on going in before he even showed up. So why had he pulled away when I needed his help the most? I didn't have the strength to fight the lure of the Devil and formulate questions at the same time. Another sluggish step forward, like moving through tar as I struggled to stay in place.
An arm wrapped around my waist, Dane's fingers slipped beneath my shirt, splayed across my bare stomach as his body molded against mine. I gasped at the touch, pressing into him as want and need warred with the clarity that came when his skin touched mine.
"It's a little hard to concentrate with you making noises like that." Dane whispered in my ear before nipping my neck, earning him a small chuckle from me. His hand slipped down my arm, stealing the gun I only just then realized I still held in my hand.
And then all Hell broke loose.
Dane kept me pressed firmly against him as he turned counter clockwise. One after another, rounds exploded from the gun, the small flash with each trigger pull lighting up the darkness. Spots danced in my vision with each blink, but still I managed to get a good look at the horde of demons scurrying our way. I lost sight of the Devil, however, doubtful Dane destroyed him with a few blessed bullets. If it had been that easy, I wouldn't be a hunter and the world would be utopia. There wasn't time to figure out where he'd disappeared to as the demons closed in. There was only time to fight.
I slipped from the comfort and security of Dane's embrace, tossing him one of the extra mags as I reached for my blade. With the push of a button and a soft click, the switchblade extended, steel gleaming even in the darkness. Sharp and deadly, but definitely not enough. I wished it were a sword as I slashed and stabbed at the first demon within arm’s reach. I pulled the baton from my pocket, flicking my wrist hard to extend it in time to connect with the shins of another demon. Using the baton defensively, blocking blows and clawing talons, I managed a few more cuts on the demon in front of me with my knife.
Demons swarmed Dane as he emptied another mag into the ungodly crowd before being completely engulfed. He continued to fight, as did I, throwing punches, kicks, anything to take out one of the horde. They were lesser demons, easy to banish or kill when you were up against one or two, but this many? It didn't look good.
What initially appeared to be close to a dozen multiplied by ten. We were vastly outnumbered and losing fast. I needed to come up with something quick. Recalling the few short lessons I'd had from Tobias and the endless stack of books he'd given me to study, I dropped to my knees and scrawled the names of the angels who acted as my wards in angelic script using the blood dripping from a gash on my finger. Something about the blood made the act of writing their names feel dark, tainting the holy purpose of the words. Seeing as how I was fresh out of ink and a calligraphy quill, it would have to do.
Demons continued to scratch and claw at my flesh, yanking handfuls of hair until I feared I'd be bald. Another latched on to my back. I'd been in this scenario before. No way was I getting bitten again. I held myself up with one arm, my elbow trying to buckle under the additional weight of the demon digging its nails into my sides like razor sharp needles and slammed a bloodied palm down on the cold stone floor with the other.
I muttered the words, wavering until I saw the first signs of success. My confidence grew, each word louder than the first until I poured all my conviction into every syllable. Dane recognized the words and joined in, still trying to beat his way out of the mob attacking him. Our combined voices raised above the sounds of fighting and demon cries. At least a dozen of the lesser demons evaporated, banished back to the pits of Hell they'd crawled from. A major dent in our enemy's ranks, but we were still outnumbered.
"It was a trap, they were expecting you. And we walked right into it." Dane finally managed to work his way back to me through the thinned crowd.
"Not entirely. He was prepared, expected me to show up, but they came here looking for something." I gave Dane the last mag in exchange for the two daggers he pulled out of his inner coat pocket.
"Well, if I had to guess, I'd say whatever it was, they found it." He slammed the mag home as we backed up into the corner, cutting off the attacks from every direction except the front.
"Where'd you get these?" The daggers, perfectly balanced and razor sharp, looked an awful lot like my hunter tattoo.
"I had them made."
I'd ask him where and how he'd known later. There wasn't time to discuss swordsmiths or gush over the sentiment of the gesture when a gang of demons was pressing down on you. I slashed out, peeling through the skin of the creature closest. Black tar like blood bubbled out of the wound, dropping to the floor with an acidic hiss and burning a hole in my boot. This one needed to go down before he melted a hole clean through me. I stabbed it in the temple and twisted the dagger back and forth, drilling further into its brain. It finally dropped to the ground and I sent up another prayer, this time for Dane and me to walk out of the desecrated church alive.
Dane reached into his handy trench coat again, pulling out a glass vial. He pulled the cork stopper free with his teeth and shook the contents, which I assumed were holy water, onto the demons closest to him. Weakened by the water, our weapons became more effective. One bullet, two stabs, they dropped like flies. I hoped Dane had more than one vial in his coat pocket because we could surely use it. I almost cried out with joy when he spit out another piece of cork.
Holy water was added to my list of necessary supplies for demon hunting. I'd been ill-equipped to take on so many. Counting the lesser demons we'd banished, there were easily three times the number we'd planned for. In fact, I got the distinct impression, based on how under-armed I was, that Thomas hadn't expected anything to happen. I'd been on surveillance under the guise of a demon slaying mission.
We fought for what felt like hours, backs against the walls, killing one demon as another scrambled over top to take its place until the bullets ran out and a wall of dead encircled us. If it toppled in the wrong direction, we'd be buried beneath close to two dozen rapidly decomposing corpses, the stench of which made me gag. Dane kicked hard, causing the barrier of bodies to collapse, spilling out into the direction away from us. He climbed over the heap of mushy demon parts first, helping me over once he'd gotten solid footing.
Exhausted, I stopped to catch my breath and do a quick triage. A more thorough assessment and treatment of our wounds—and there were plenty—would have to wait until we got somewhere safe. Because, much to my disbelief, an abandoned church proved to be one-hundred percent not safe. Between the two of us, we had multiple lacerations, some which required stitching, too many contusions to count, and a possible broken nose.
We stumbled out of the church, battered and bruised, gulping fresh air, just thankful to be alive and poison-free.
"It's communion wine, but it'll do in a pinch." Dane handed me a small flask after taking a swig himself.
"So… what now?" I shivered as the sweet alcohol made its way down without out any of the delicious burn I enjoyed after a shot of Fireball and handed the flask back to him.
"You're the hunter. You tell me. This is way outside of my job description. I'm a loophole into Heaven. Sending demons back to Hell? That's your gig."
I caught the smile in his eyes as he took another pull of the wine. We made a good team, managing to fight our way out of that church when it didn't seem possible. We were in two totally different lines of work, but it didn’t matter. He wasn't going anywhere. He'd been following me all over Baltimore, he'd follow me down this path as well. The comfort that knowledge provided caught me off guard.
"I'm not really sure. I need to talk to Thomas or Tobias." I added my other mentor's name when jealousy briefly flashed in Dane's eyes. He remained convinced my angel, or as he thought of him, his competition, had been the driving wedge between us. "We need to know what th
ey took from the church and why. First things first, though, we need some place to get stitched up. We’re not going to get very far looking like this"
"I know someone. Come on. We're going to have to hoof it, but it's not far to Rob's place." Dane led the way, which was fine with me since I didn't have any friends with medical degrees.
TWENTY-TWO
Dane's guy worked on the edge of the safe zone, about a block outside of Bolton Hill. I could almost see the lights of Mount Royal Tavern, my mouth practically watering at the thought of something to drink besides communion wine. Of course, heading into a bar full of demons and angels in the state we were in wasn't a good idea. So we kept going.
"I thought you said it wasn't far." Tired, hungry, and in pain, I'd bitched almost the entire way.
"Would it have changed anything apart from how much you complained? We don't have any other options."
I punched his shoulder when he laughed at my grumbling, wincing along with him when I realized I'd hit him right on a cut. He wrapped his hand around mine, lacing our fingers together, probably to keep me from hitting him again as much as to simply hold it.
We crossed the street and headed toward his friend's practice. Something with the sign seemed off, not the same medical insignia I'd seen at other doctor's offices. The soft glow of a fluorescent sign surrounded by juniper shrubs in a small mulch bed which created a sort of semi-circle drive caught my eye.
"Your guy is a vet?" I couldn't hide the shock and concern in my voice as I stared at the image of a cat and dog curled up together above the words twenty-four hour emergency service.
"She's not going to try to deworm you or anything. She's stitched me up before. The last time I worked in Baltimore, one of the family members didn't agree with me being there. Stuck me with a steak knife in the ribs, just missed my lung. Don't worry, she's an ace. Could have been a surgeon if she wanted, although she swears animals are better patients. I think she just prefers them to people in general."
She? I thought he said Rob. Rob wasn't a woman's name. Please, please, be old. And unattractive. Petty and immature as those thoughts were, they played on repeat in my mind until we walked in and found her leaning over a reception desk, reaching for a file and quickly jotting some notes down.
Of course she was gorgeous.
Smart, beautiful, no doubt witty. The vet was a trifecta of hotness, a leggy blonde with blue eyes and an hourglass figure. A genuine smile lit her face like a Christmas tree when she looked up at the sound of the little bell on the door and saw Dane, wavering slightly when she caught sight of me and the condition we were in.
"Pam, if someone comes in, put them in room one, assess the situation. If it's non-emergency, don't disturb me. I'll be in the surgical room. You two, come with me."
"Sure, Robin, no problem. Hi, Dane." Pam's eyes widened as we walked behind the counter. Her gaze roving from head to toe, taking him in. Apparently he had that affect on women. I know he did with me. The man was ridiculously handsome, even covered in blood and grime. Dane waved to Pam before we made our way back to the room.
The surgical suite, like any other operating room, was white, sterile with stainless steel everything, and a temperature about fifteen degrees below the rest of the building.
"You'll have to stand. I don't have a table large enough for you."
Large enough? Oh no, she didn't. I was about to tell this Dr. Rob where she could stick her too-small table when I saw Dane's amused expression, pointing to the literally too-small-to-fit-a-human table. I tucked my indignation back in and waited to be treated.
"Who's first?" Dr. Rob asked, disappointment flashing on her face briefly when Dane said my name. She'd been looking forward to getting her hands on him again.
The thought of anyone else touching him lit a fire of jealousy deep inside me and I wondered if he felt the same way. I must have been contemplating that a little harder than I'd realized or I'd lost more blood than I thought because I missed it when she called my name the first time.
"Jax? Are you ready?" Her tone, calm and firm, said we were starting whether I was ready or not. "Take off your shirt, please."
Dane didn't look away, both of us sucking in a breath for different reasons as I pulled the shirt over my head. Me from the pain of raising my arms above my head and him from watching me undress, seeing more of my bare skin, even if it was covered in cuts and bruises. I thanked the heavens, though I was pretty sure no one up there wanted to take credit for it, that I'd chosen a matching black bra and panty set.
I only flinched once when the needle for the local anesthetic pierced the skin below my ribs. Dane hadn't overstated her surgical skills. She stitched me up in record time with a precision that ensured minimal scaring. Patched up, I grabbed my shirt and started to move out of the way so she could sew up Dane.
"Wait. Looks like there's a nasty gash on the back of your leg. Better let me have a look at it." Dr. Rob picked up the dreaded squeeze bottle of water to flush out the wound. Cleaning hurt worse than stitching. "You'll have to remove your pants."
I sighed, a wave of self-consciousness hitting me at the thought of dropping trow in front of someone who looked like her. Misinterpreting my reaction as shyness, she asked Dane to wait outside in the hall.
"I'm not leaving her side." His voice and expression dared me to argue. I was too tired to even bother.
I turned, getting her up close and personal with my backside as I unzipped my jeans, stepping out of them when they hit the floor. A string of expletives flew from my mouth as she prepped and scrubbed my leg. Another prick of the needle followed by several hard tugs and she'd completed another set of perfect sutures.
Without thinking, I bent over to pick up my clothes, providing Dane with a better view than he'd had any of the nights he'd watched me from outside my apartment. He shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, practically sitting on his hands to prevent himself from groping me in front of the good doctor. Fully aware of his effort to restrain himself, I took my time getting dressed, sliding the jeans slowly up my legs. I put my shirt on, pulling my hair through the neck before the rest of the back of the tee slipped down, exposing the wings tattooed on my back for the first time.
Dane stood, lifting my top back up, hooking the hem on my shoulders before tracing the outline of each wing. Nothing overtly sexual, still it promised something more. Shivers wracked my body under his touch. I wanted him, wanted his hands to explore more than just the artwork on my back.
"It's perfect." He said a lot in those two words.
Acceptance, safety, desire, passion, so many feelings packed into a few syllables. The air between us was charged with a need and, for a moment, the world faded away.
Until the doctor cleared her throat, breaking the tension.
"If you'd like, I could wait outside in the hall, but we are working within a small window of opportunity to close those wounds." Her words were clipped, no doubt from irritation and even a twinge of jealousy.
I got the impression she did more than stitch him up the last time he was here. I doubted Dane made any promises or alluded to something more, nevertheless, when she first saw him walk through the door, she hoped he was back for her.
And then she caught sight of me.
Dane seductively stripped down to his boxers with a ‘pay backs are a bitch’ look on his face and let Dr. Rob go to work. Too bad he didn't notice she had a similar expression on her face. She'd gotten liberal with the water to flush out his wounds and frugal with the anesthetic. Poor guy felt every one of his fifty-four stitches.
A couple hours later, we were in the lobby stuffing a few dollars in the money slot in a cardboard box on the side table in the waiting area, picking from the less than healthy selection of snack items. Beggars can't be choosers, so I took the cinnamon Pop Tarts and a pack of peanut butter crackers while Dane selected the granola bar and a pack of oatmeal cookies. Because what else do you eat after fighting a legion of demons and receiving medical treatment?
I followed Dane outside, still trying to trade one of my crackers for a cookie. Engrossed in my attempt to barter snack foods, I missed it when he stopped, bumping into the back of him and spilling half the pack of crackers. I started to bitch about losing my gourmet dinner when I felt their presence.
Shit just got real.
"You entered the church."
"Nice to see you, too, Thomas."
"You went into the church, followed Lazarus."
"You obviously know I did. Isn't that why you sent me there?"
"And when you saw the number of demons, when you heard him, you felt it wise to continue. Outnumbered, under armed. With the Sin Eater as your back up?"
"Thomas." His brother Joseph issued a warning with just his name.
"What did they find down there?" Dane tried to steer the conversation away from him and back to more pressing matters.
"What they were looking for is of no consequence to you. Let's go, Jax." Thomas lasered his focus on me, laying down the gauntlet. Whether I chose him or followed him because I was duty bound was irrelevant.
"Actually, it is of consequence to him." I said, throwing his words back at him. "He saved my ass back there. I could have died in that basement if not for Dane."
"You can't die." Joseph reminded me, already tired of the theatrics.
Dane raised a quizzical brow at Joseph's statement, but I waved him off. I'd explain the bonus clause in my divine contract later. I needed to clarify a few things with Thomas first.
"Well, I could have been taken and something tells me I'd wish I were dead if that happened. That church would still be teeming with demons if I didn't have his help. There's no way I could have cleared that many on my own. I don't care how well you trained me. Outnumbered is outnumbered. Plain and simple. He's on our side, my side, and that's where he's staying."
Payable On Death: A Jax Rhodes Novel, Book One (The Jax Rhodes Series 1) Page 14