by S. K. Falls
I was still nauseous when we got back into the car, but at least I wasn't puking anymore. Embarrassed, I accepted the gum Victorine proffered straight-faced, without any hint of sympathy.
Dax rubbed circles on my back, looking concerned. "Are you all right? Would you like some water? We can stop at Irma's diner on the way home."
"I'd rather just go back to your place. I'm fine." I took a deep breath. "It was just a little unexpected, what he did."
Oscar started the car and began to drive." Halflings who live like Afton are often uncivilized, reveling in their filth and squalor."
There was silence, and I briefly wondered how Victorine felt about her own race of demons being treated—and living—like that. Then I turned my attention to more pressing matters. "What did Afton mean about the clan wanting to overthrow the Astaroth? Who are they?"
"The Astaroth demons play the role of judges of the demonic race," Dax said, staring past me out the window. "They're a powerful race of demons that live in northern Canada—currently, at any rate. They tend to relocate every half-century to keep an eye on things in the immortal realm, and they help decide cases of rivalry between demons.
“Rivalry between demons has historically been about territory—and it can get deadly quickly. They also step in if it's decided any demon is taking more than his share of souls. Taking too many means there are fewer for other demons, so..." He glanced at me to make sure I wasn't too horrified, and then went on. "The halflings feel that the Astaroth aren't vested enough in their wellbeing. They feel, for instance, that full demons take advantage of their relative weakness"—Victorine snorted in the front seat, but Dax continued, undeterred—"and they don't get fair play when it comes to taking souls or claiming territories. It's why many of them live the way Afton does."
I chewed on my lip. "And Marion's clan is taking advantage of that to gain momentum in Louisiana. That's their 'platform,' for lack of a better word?"
"Well, maybe not exactly how humans use the word in politics. They have to keep their movement relatively quiet or the Astaroth would be upon them in moments. But perhaps they're using the halflings to gather intelligence. Since the halflings live such a nomadic lifestyle, they're able to barter information from one group to another rather quickly. They work together, unlike demons from different clans." Dax cradled me in his arms, his hard muscles pushing into my own bones. It was uncomfortable, in a way, but I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be. "But please don't worry. There are only four or five of them, and that’s including Marion, since we've heard no indication that they suspect he's dead yet. And the Astaroth are many. They have a legion of demon soldiers."
Oscar spoke up, looking at Dax and me in the rearview mirror. "We must connect with the Astaroth to inform them of Marion's clan's intentions. Once they've put a stop to the clan’s activities, we won't have anything to worry about."
I didn't want to be pessimistic, but I had a feeling that this was just the beginning of what we’d see of Marion's clan. There was something on the horizon, something big and dark and ominous that we couldn't see yet. It was approaching fast, like an angry storm. I suppressed a shudder and hoped my intuition was wrong.
When we got back to Dax's mansion, I could tell that he and Oscar wanted desperately to discuss the logistics of meeting with the Astaroth to tell them about Marion's clan's plans for world domination. Or, at least, the demon world's domination. I didn't have much to contribute, and didn't want to sit around doing nothing—I was bursting with nervous energy—so I told Dax I'd head back home.
"Are you sure?" he asked as we spoke in his driveway. Oscar and Victorine went inside. He put one hand on my cheek and leaned forward so our foreheads were touching—his skin blazing against mine. "You don't have to leave." His copper eyes were hypnotic. "I don't want you to leave."
I breathed in the smoky scent of his breath, wishing we could just stay like that for the rest of the day. "I don't want to leave you either. But it sounds like you and Oscar have a lot to discuss. I'll only get in the way."
He kissed me on the forehead, the heat seeping all the way into my brain. "You're never in the way. But you're right, we do have a lot to plan. We must speak with the Astaroth before the clan becomes aware that I killed Marion. Regardless of what position Marion held in the clan, me killing one of their members is cause enough for them to seek revenge."
I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind since we'd found out that Marion had been part of a clan. "When I researched demons at the library, I saw that the only way to kill one was with cold-forged iron. Is that true?"
Dax's expression was unreadable as he studied my face. Finally, he said, "It is true for entities other than demons, yes. It's one of the only ways—besides magic rituals—that humans, for instance, can kill demons. Why do you ask?"
"I was sort of hoping there was some way I could at least have the illusion of protecting myself. You know, like maybe carrying a Taser or pepper spray would scare them off." I sighed, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.
Dax held me close, enveloping me in his heat and fragrance. I relaxed, my muscles turning to liquid as if someone had slipped me a drug. "You are protected, Cara. I promise to never let anything happen to you again." His arms tightened around me briefly, unintentionally cutting off my air supply. "Marion taking you was my mistake, and one I intend to never make again."
I struggled weakly against him and he released me. I took a deep breath. "Thanks. And...don't be silly. That wasn't your fault. You warned me and besides, you saved me. Remember?"
He shook his head, his jaw clenched. "That doesn't matter. It was inexcusable to expose you to danger, even for a second."
I sighed. "I should go. I hope you and Oscar figure things out quickly." I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his.
I heard his sharp intake of breath, and then his arms tightened around my waist again, but not enough to cut off my air. He pressed his body against mine, molding his every muscle to mine. "I love you."
I blinked, trying to clear my head so I could get out a response halfway coherent. "I love you, too."
He helped me into the car, and before he closed my door, he said, "Stay safe, my betrothed."
I smiled the entire way home.
When I got home, it was lunch time. The whole day spread out before me, waiting to be filled. I sat in my dad's recliner and stared out the window at the blue sky.
Marion's clan wanted to overthrow the Astaroth, the judges of the demon world. But Dax had said they made decisions when demons fought. And they had soldiers. To me, it sounded like they were rulers rather than judges. What Marion's clan wanted to do was stupid, according to Dax. But could it cause an all-out war?
Goosebumps sprouted on my arms and legs. I couldn’t even imagine the consequences of war in the demon world. I’d seen their raw power, what they were capable of. The thought of Dax being caught in the middle of one was horrifying.
I had to get out of the house, clear my head. I slid my cell phone out of my pocket, pulled up my contacts, and pushed a button.
"This is James."
"Hey. It's—"
"Cara!" The pleasure in his voice was genuine; I could hear him smiling and it made me smile, too. "I thought you'd never call."
I laughed. "Sorry. It's been a crazy week." I took a breath. "So, how are you?"
"Good! I'm over at the firehouse today."
"Oh. Sorry." Disappointment thudded in my chest. If he was working, I'd have to find something else to occupy my time. "I'll let you go."
"No!" James laughed. "I'm getting off in about half an hour. Do you want to come over? I'll show you where the heroes of Eden work."
"Ha. Sounds good. Be there shortly." I hung up, still smiling, and went back outside.
Eden's only fire station was nestled in a cove of trees. The bright red color of the trucks was stunning against all the green, like vibrant birds in a tropical forest.
James was hanging out with anoth
er firefighter when I got there, the gray t-shirt and navy pants fitting his large frame nicely. I could easily see James on one of those ‘hometown heroes’ calendars. I appreciated his beauty, but it didn't ignite a fire in me—no pun intended—the way Dax's did.
When he heard my car door close, he looked up. "Hey!"
"Hey." I smiled, suddenly shy.
We'd talked about things I hadn’t discussed with anyone else when we'd hung out at the bar, but now, seeing him in the light of day, it was different. It always amazed me how difficult I found social situations with other humans. I'd never had that problem with Dax; nothing about our encounters had ever been awkward. Strange, yes. Electric, always. It made me realize just how disconnected I was from my own world.
James came up and enveloped me in a bear hug. His normal human heat was surprisingly tame compared to Dax's blazing temperature, and his scent was so much more mundane—fresh laundry and sweat. I felt a sudden fondness in my heart for this utterly human man, especially after all the drama of my thoughts back at my house. On impulse, I squeezed him before letting go.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned me to face the man who was with him. "This is Patrick, my fellow firefighter and buddy. Patrick, meet Cara Beaumont."
Patrick's face lit up. "Oh, Cara! How did I guess?" He leered at James before grabbing my hand in a firm shake.
I felt a small tug in my stomach. James had already asked me out once and I'd very awkwardly, in true Cara fashion, turned him down. I didn't want him to think my friendship was an offer of something more, because it wasn't, and I didn't want to string him along.
So, like the coward I was, I chose to ignore that exchange. "Nice to meet you." I stepped casually away from James and looked around the massive garage. "So! This is the inside of a fire station. I've never seen one before."
It was a lame change of topic, but James bought into it. "No kidding. Well, we've gotta rectify that. You can't be my friend and not have the complete tour."
He held his arm out and, a little reluctantly, I took it.
We went inside.
James gave me the grand tour of the fire station, which wasn't as dinky as I'd expected. They had a big kitchen, a popcorn machine that James thought was the coolest thing ever, and a common room with a big screen TV. Several firemen were glued to it, watching a football game.
"This here was a Christmas donation." He patted the top of the screen lovingly.
"Wow. Generous. I didn't realize Edenites even knew what a big screen TV was." I grinned to show I was only half-serious.
James laughed. "Well, I guess he's not technically an Edenite. He's only lived here a year or two, I think. Donates to us regularly, though. Guy’s name’s Dax Allard. You know that place up on the hill?"
I stared at him. Dax had donated a big screen TV to the fire station? "Um...yeah, I know him. He's my..." I stopped. He's my what? Boyfriend? Lover? Betrothed? I couldn't say any of those. The first two were trite and the last would sound ridiculous. "...Boss." There. At least that was true.
James's thick blond eyebrows shot up. "No kiddin'."
I shrugged, my cheeks burning at the half-truth.
"Well, your boss is one generous guy. He seems to have a big interest in keeping Eden fire-free." He laughed, as if it was a joke. But I could think of one big reason Dax would make generous donations to the firefighters. He was probably responsible for a good number of Eden's fires himself, what with his demonic tendency to spontaneously set fire to things and all.
James led me down a narrow pathway to the firefighters' sleeping quarters next. There were three beds in James's room, and James's bed was pushed up against the wall. As decoration he had a giant American flag with two wooden swords underneath. The handles were intricately carved. I ran my finger along the designs. "Pretty."
James gasped and clutched his chest dramatically with one hand. "They're not pretty, Cara. They're manly and dangerous. Those are Kendo swords."
"My mistake." I held my hands up in mock surrender. "I meant they're so scary they make me want to cry. Seriously, though, why do you have swords up on your wall? Do you do Kendo?"
"Hell yeah. It's become sort of my lifeline. Actually, Patrick and I started this class together at Billy Roundtree’s dojo . He dropped out after a couple of weeks, but I kept going. Now I look forward to the classes every week."
"Cool." I turned back to the wall, my wheels spinning. Sword fighting. Running my finger down the length of the wooden blade, I asked, "So, how come the blades are wooden?"
"Practical reasons," James said. If he thought it was weird I seemed to be fixated on his swords, he didn't give any indication. "If you're just sparring with your partner, you don't want to risk hurting him or damaging a thousand-dollar weapon. Bamboo's lightweight and cheap." He lifted one off its holder on the wall and held it out to me. "Here. See for yourself."
I took it tentatively, but he was right—it barely weighed anything. I found it empowering in a weird way, holding a weapon that had the potential to cause harm. With a sword in my hand, I wasn't quite as helpless as the night I'd been when Marion attacked me. "Do they make these in iron?"
James raised an eyebrow. "Iron? I'm not sure. Probably. People who don't like wood prefer steel, though. It's lighter."
Even if there were sword makers out there who made iron swords, it was unlikely that they’d make them with cold-forged iron. I was fairly sure that iron was a metal that was easiest forged in heat.
Still, if there was even one website, one artisan somewhere that would do it, I'd have a weapon. An actual, bona fide weapon to protect myself against demons.
"So... you think you might want to try Kendo? I could teach you the basics." James's eyes shone with excitement.
"You know," I turned to him. "I just might take you up on that."
In fact, I was sure I would. And I'd find someone who'd make me a cold-forged iron sword, too. I refused to be a helpless victim, waiting for Marion's clan or some other demon to come to town.
There was a tremendous bang from the front of the station that interrupted whatever James was going to say. It was followed by various exclamations of the "What the fuck?!" variety from the firefighters. James rushed out and I ran after him, my heart pounding.
As soon as I turned into the common area, before I even saw him or breathed in his wood smoke and spice scent, I knew it was Dax.
For one, the room was incredibly hot—it was like walking into a kitchen when the oven had been going all day. For two, the firefighters, big and beefy as they were, looked alarmed and intimidated, as if they’d come face to face with a man-eating eight-hundred-pound lion.
James stopped in front of me, his posture immediately tensing as he took in the situation and the tall, menacing man at the door. He tried to shield my body, but I went around him so Dax could see me.
His face immediately relaxed, and the room cooled by about ten degrees. He rushed toward me, taking care to stay right on the edge of acceptable mortal speed, and put his hands on my face. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I said, trying not to smile like a goofy idiot. Just his proximity was making me giddy, even though I had no idea why he was here, and he'd obviously freaked out all the firemen. "Why? What's going on?"
But he was still tense as he looked around the room. His eyes lit on James, who was still glaring at him. "Are you sure you're all right? They weren't holding you here against your will?"
James sputtered with indignant laughter. The firefighters all looked from him to Dax uncomfortably.
"Who the hell do you think you are, bud?” James said, straightening up so his chest was out. “You come barging in to our fire house and now you're accusing us of holding her?"
"Door's broken," one of the firefighters put in unhelpfully, and I saw that Dax had indeed ripped it almost completely off its hinges when he'd stormed in.
But Dax ignored them completely, copper eyes smoldering as he stared at me, waiting for my response.
"Um, no, I'm here because I wanted to visit with James," I said, my cheeks burning. "He's an old friend."
Dax took a deep breath and his hands off my face before looking at James. "I will pay for damages," he said curtly.
"Damn right you will." James stepped forward. "This a friend of yours, Cara?"
I was almost sandwiched between the two of them, Dax in front of me and James right behind. I turned sideways so I could see them both at the same time. "James, this is Dax Allard. Dax, this is James Spellman."
James's eyes widened. "You're...you're Dax Allard? Our donor? Cara's boss?"
Dax frowned slightly. "Yes, I'm Cara's employer. But that's not all I am."
The firefighters began to disperse, probably sensing that this was turning into some kind of personal argument. And, I was sure, they didn't want to antagonize their generous donor.
"Right." James looked from me to Dax and back. "So this is the guy you told me about at Old Mac's?"
I blushed, remembering how I'd said that Dax's feelings about me were unclear. "Yeah, but...there were some misunderstandings back then that we worked out."
James shook his head. "Sure, Cara. Whatever you say."
I turned to Dax. "What's going on? Why are you here?"
His jaw was clenched tight. "I need to speak with you immediately. Up on the hill, please."
"Okay." Turning to James, I said, "Thanks for the tour. I'll call you later."
He huffed a laugh. "That's it? He barges in here and you're off to do his bidding?"
Dax tensed, but I put a restraining hand on his arm. His skin scorched me, but I didn't draw back. "It's not like that, James. It's...it's complicated."
"Isn't that what you said about him at Old Mac's, too? ‘Complicated’ isn't a good thing, Car." He smiled as if he was joking, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Take it easy and call me later."
I stared at him for a long moment, wondering how I’d managed to hurt him again in spite of my best intentions. Finally, I sighed. "I will."