Bound by Darkness

by Annette McCleave

  Thralls took immense pleasure from the physical nature of their work. Forcing their hosts to perform deviant sexual acts was one of their favorite tools. Up to now, Malumos had not played that particular card.

  But her involvement in this battle had forced his hand.

  She’d been a fool not to see this coming. A fool who—assuming the images had been sent in real time—had only a few moments to stop the demon from dealing Heather another heavy blow.

  Tempering a crazy urge to look at Brian and beg his forgiveness, she pivoted, her eyes returning to the dune. Which was now a simple drift of sand, dark and expressionless in the moonlight.

  “You win,” she whispered. “The moment I can get free, you’ll have the coins.”

  The dune came alive again.

  Lena saw Heather stumble away from the car, grasp a chain-link fence, and slowly sink to the ground, shaking. The man in the car shouted an obscenity at her, then drove away with a squeal of his tires. She was safe. Temporarily.

  Now all that was left to do was to steal the last coin from Carlos. Making that switch would require a sleight of hand worthy of her years as a pickpocket on the streets of old Cairo. But it could be done.

  Escaping Brian would require a little more creativity.

  From the complete lack of chatter among the group on the flight home, an onlooker would have thought they were attending a funeral. Carlos stared out the window the entire time, Emily had curled into a ball in the seat next to him, and Lena was reading every magazine and newspaper on board with an inhuman attention to detail. They were returning to San Jose in triumph, coins in hand, but there wasn’t a smile or a fist pump to be had.

  Brian reread the e-mail message from MacGregor, then leaned across the aisle and gently shook Emily. “Your mom and Lachlan will be home by the time we get back.”

  Buried in the voluminous depths of one of Carlos’s hoodies, she barely nodded. “Do they know about the demon attack on the ranch?”

  He sighed. “They know everything.”

  She glanced at Carlos’s stiff profile. “Everything?”

  “I left out a few details,” he admitted. “Some things play better in person. Like, say, telling a mom that her daughter got barbecued by her boyfriend.”

  “I’m back to normal.”

  “Yes, you are.” Except for the weird streak of blood-red hair that had appeared amid the blond and black about an hour after Uriel found her in the desert. That seemed to be permanent. “Which is one of the reasons I decided to hold back on that particular story. Your mom would worry if I told her now.”

  “Do we need to tell them at all?”

  “Yeah, we do,” he told her, smiling. “Your stepdad is going to kick my ass six ways from Sunday, and I’d rather get it over and done with now.”

  She arched a brow. “Can he do that? Kick your ass, I mean? I’ve seen you fight and, honestly, I wonder.”

  “We’ll never know the answer to that,” Brian said, sitting back. His elbow bumped Lena’s arm, and the warm contact sent a keen hum of awareness through his blood. “Because I intend to shut up and take it like a man. I deserve everything he delivers and more. I should never have let you stay.”

  She snorted. “Like you could’ve made me go home.”

  “Don’t kid yourself.” Brian met her eyes. Maybe it was the dimness of the cabin, but they seemed a deeper shade of blue. “Even you have a weakness, and I happen to know who he is.”

  “What? You’d punish Carlos if I didn’t do what I was told?”

  He nodded. “In a heartbeat.”

  Her hand snaked out and wrapped around her boyfriend’s arm. “That’s not fair.”

  “Life’s not fair.” His gaze flickered to Carlos’s face, which had remained averted the entire conversation. “Besides, he’s tough. He could handle it.”

  Truthfully, the kid looked as if he’d welcome it.

  Sitting back in his seat, Brian glanced at Lena. “So, what did I do to piss you off?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Right. We’ll be landing in”—he glanced at his watch—“less than thirty minutes and you haven’t said more than a dozen words to me the entire flight. But you’re not mad at me?”

  “No.”

  “You’re a crappy liar.”

  Her gaze finally lifted from the magazine. Briefly. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “I’m just tired.”

  That was almost believable. Her normally pristine ponytail was disheveled, her clothing was wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It had been a very long day, and it wasn’t over yet. Still, tiredness didn’t account for her reluctance to meet his eyes, or the way she flinched away from his touch.

  “Wanna freshen up in the ladies’ room?”

  Her gaze met his and then darted away. “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

  “I’m not suggesting at all. I’m offering.” He grinned, then leaned in and whispered in her ear, “To squeeze us both into the tiniest room ever invented and make such scorching-hot love to you that we set off the smoke detectors.”

  She squirmed. “They’re about to turn on the Fasten Seat Belt sign.”

  “Ever since I saw that sexy bow in your hand and that wicked war-goddess look on your face, I’ve wanted to do you so badly it’s all I can think about.”

  “Stop it.”

  A delightful flush rose in her cheeks, and a wave of molten need went straight to his groin. “You sure you don’t want a chance to compliment me on the sturdy length of my sword?”

  The corners of her mouth lifted, but she bit her lip, quashing an all-out smile. “You do have a very nice sword,” she admitted.

  Giving in to impulse, he kissed her.

  Which didn’t help with the boner, but did satisfy some primitive urge deep down in his chest. She was his. As much as she could be anyone’s woman, she belonged to him.

  He deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of her.

  A soft bell rang through the cabin.

  “Too late,” murmured Lena, glancing up at the seat-belt sign.

  Damn. She sounded almost regretful. “Guess we’ll have to save the rest of that conversation until we get home.”

  At the word home, Lena’s eyes darkened. She closed the magazine and tucked it into the seat pocket. “That’s still hours away. We don’t fly out of LaGuardia for another two hours.”

  Although he was enjoying the flirting, he let her redirect the topic to something more neutral. “Unfortunately, two hours in New York won’t be enough time to get any shopping in. A huge bummer, considering the disaster that was my last visit.”

  “The martial demon didn’t destroy every shop in the city, did he?”

  “I wasn’t in the mood to shop after it was over,” he said slowly. Before he went too far with Lena, he should remember just how poor a catch he was. “I tried to save a young girl’s life. But I dropped the ball.”

  “A young girl?”

  He recalled the day—and the girl’s pale, thin face— with painful clarity. “Yeah. A courageous kid with incredible conviction. She’s a big part of the reason I’m so determined not to let the demons get their hands on the rest of the coins. She gave everything, including her life, to protect one.”

  Lena was silent for a lengthy moment. “You want to be able to say she didn’t die in vain.”

  Brian nodded. “Yeah.”

  The passing flight attendant asked them to bring their chairs to an upright position. Lena did so, then promptly sat back and closed her eyes. “That makes a lot of sense.”

  Her complete lack of emotion bugged him.

  “She was just a kid,” he said roughly. “Maybe twenty. Her death sucked, big-time.”

  “I agree.”

  Brian stiffened in his seat. Her cool tone annoyed him. Somewhere in the course of her travels, Lena had lost her ability to empathize with people she didn’t know. And it was a fla
w he wasn’t sure he could accept.

  There was so much to admire about Lena: her courage, her strength, her smarts. The newly revealed war-goddess routine. But compassion? That was a huge missing piece. If it weren’t for that momentary breakdown in the alley—when he’d actually seen her cry—he’d wonder if she had a heart.

  Which really called into question his attraction to her.

  He sighed. But it was undeniable. One whiff of her subtle perfume and he was dizzy with desire. What made her so damned appealing? Was it just her looks? Was he really that shallow?

  No.

  Looks weren’t the only thing that drew him to Lena. There was more to her than a cold, calculating bitch; he was sure of it. He didn’t have a speck of real evidence to support his theory—but he believed, deep down, that Lena did have a heart. All he had were little things, like the care she’d taken with Rachel’s pajamas, the respect she’d shown their elderly driver in Cairo, the money she’d pressed into the hands of those merchants in the souks, and the brittle look on her face when she bent over Tariq’s body.

  But it was enough to convince him.

  He had faith in her.

  Eyeing the hand she had resting on the chair arm between them, he smiled. There was nothing to suggest she wanted his support while they landed—nothing to suggest she was even the slightest bit nervous about flying. But he wrapped his hand around hers anyway, enjoying the silky texture of her skin and the feminine delicacy of her bones.

  Right or wrong, he was going with his instincts on this one.

  Lena threaded her fingers tightly with Brian’s, bringing their palms flush. He had such strong, capable hands. Regular manicures hadn’t erased the calluses indicative of daily swordplay, and they definitely hadn’t softened the firm grip. His hold was gentle yet steady, a subtle invitation to close her eyes and let her worries about flying melt away. So she did.

  Incredible.

  Amanda had been alive when he arrived. Because he was a Gatherer, Lena had assumed he’d responded to the usual postdemise request. But he’d actually spoken to Amanda; he’d actually made a valiant attempt to keep her alive.

  He’d taken on that hulk of a martial demon—the one that had broken a dozen bones in Lena’s own body, pierced her flesh with that slimy tail, and brought her within an inch of hell’s front door—in a brave effort to save Amanda. Her Amanda. And in the process of trying to save her, he’d taken up Amanda’s cause—to keep the Judas coins out of Satan’s hands.

  Her eyes stung.

  What would happen if she told him the truth? What would happen if she told him the coins would save another young girl’s life? He’d given his all to save one sister—wouldn’t he do the same for the other? She sighed. Yes, he would. No doubt about it. He’d go to the ends of the earth to save Heather ... as long as it didn’t mean giving Satan the coins. He’d fight hard and he’d fight gallantly.

  But in the end, he would fail.

  Just as she had failed. Three people were dead because she’d initially thought, as Brian did, that giving Malumos the coins was unacceptable. But when the demon slew Don, Graeme, and Amanda, one by one, she’d learned the true meaning of unacceptable. Even if she despised herself for her actions against mankind, she couldn’t stand by and watch Heather suffer and die for no other crime than that she was Lena’s flesh and blood. And Malumos would make Lena watch. Video by gruesome video.

  She peeked between her lashes at their entwined hands.

  Would he hate her, when all was said and done? And if he did, what would the next 386 years be like? If he gained access to the Gatherer database, he’d be able to find her whenever he liked. If he was bitter, he could extract vengeance time and time again.

  But somehow, she didn’t think he’d do that.

  Avoid her, yes. Punish her? No.

  That wasn’t Brian’s style.

  And frankly, he’d be pretty busy cleaning up the horrors the coins would create, once Satan had them all. As would she. Once Heather was safe, her entire existence would narrow to the task of stealing back those coins.

  The aircraft shuddered as the wheels hit the runway.

  “By the way,” Brian said quietly, “thanks for giving up the coins without a fuss and for volunteering the value of a common Tyrian shekel. A lot more palatable paying duty on eleven grand than a million bucks.”

  Lena opened her eyes and looked at him. “No problem.”

  One thing was certain: He’d never smile at her again.

  As the engines whined in a furious rush to slow the plane, Lena turned and planted a kiss on Brian’s sinfully handsome lips. He responded with enthusiasm—returning the hot pressure, opening his mouth, and inviting her inside.

  The plane turned, heading for the gate, and she pulled back to study his face.

  “What?” he asked. “Was my kiss that bad?”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners and intimate laughter shone from the silvery depths. His smile was crooked, and his hair was doing its usual endearing flop. Taking a mental snapshot, she nodded.

  “Totally wicked.”

  “You need to tell them,” Carlos said quietly.

  “No.” Emily pulled free of his embrace and sank back into the swimming pool, leaving him on the side with his feet dangling in the water. She glanced up at the house, and the silhouette of her mother in the big picture window. Worry kept her there almost constantly. “I don’t.”

  “Em, this is serious. I could get worse.”

  She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at him. Droplets of water clung to his muscled chest, and his dark hair was swept off his face in long, wet waves. Wow. He was hotter than the weather. “Nothing’s going to happen. You haven’t felt a twinge since we left Cairo yesterday. Heck, it’s even possible the fiery-explosion thing was temporary.”

  “Em,” he said, sighing. “No one will blame you.”

  “Yeah, right. You see the nasty looks I get every time the subject of the coins comes up? Just wait till they find out that when I brought your soul back from hell, I picked up a little souvenir. They love to rag me about my obligations as the Trinity Soul.”

  Feet swaying in the water, he smiled crookedly. “With great power comes great responsibility.”

  “Are you quoting Spider-Man now? God, how low will you sink?” In spite of her jeering tone, she smiled back. Then she sent another glance to the house, this one including the patch of scorched cedar tiles on the roof. The fire Carlos had put out to save her, despite his very understandable issues with flames. “Honestly? My big worry is that they’ll send you away or lock you up or something. I couldn’t handle it if I got you into trouble, or if they treated you badly because of me. Let’s give Brian a chance to get over his snit about what happened in the desert first, okay?”

  Carlos was silent, staring at the sparkling blue surface of the water.

  “Promise not to tattle on me?” she asked, coaxing.

  “You don’t need me to promise,” he said. “You know I’d never betray you that way.”

  “Promise?”

  He pushed off the side of the pool and swam to her side. With his gorgeous brown eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them, he whispered, “Promise.”

  Although she’d been preparing herself for hours, stabbing Brian in the back was the hardest thing Lena ever had to do. And the easiest. Because he trusted her.

  Not completely. But enough.

  “I’m going to help Rachel make lunch,” she said to Brian, once they’d reviewed the excellent work the contractor was doing on the house repairs. Aware that it would likely be the last time, she leaned against his broad chest, tilted her head up, and offered her mouth for a kiss.

  He obliged.

  A short kiss, full of hot promise, accompanied by a drift of his hand up her spine, which gave her goose bumps. Then he pushed her gently away. “Just make sure you follow Rachel’s instructions to the letter. No ad-libbing. I’d rather spend the night discovering all the places on your body that
are ticklish than hanging over a toilet bowl with food poisoning.”

  “What? You don’t think I can cook?”

  “I know you can’t.” He kissed her nose. “MacGregor’s taking a break from training the newbies, so he and I will be in the library exchanging notes. Come get us when lunch is ready.”

  Lena spun on her heel and headed down the hall toward the kitchen, regret filling her boots like lead. What she wouldn’t give to stay for even one more day. But, knowing that she was going to betray him, it was already far too difficult to look Brian in the eyes. In a different time, under other circumstances, this could have ended so much sweeter. Hiking her purse up on her shoulder, she zipped past the kitchen door, shoved open a hall window, and leapt out onto the grass.

  Stefan’s caravan stood directly in front of her.

  Everyone routinely underestimated the little mage, but she had no intention of doing the same. He and Dika had cut short a weekend to Napa Valley at Brian’s request. He was expected in the main house momentarily to examine the coins they’d recovered in Egypt and bury them several layers deep in barrier spells—and the instant he spotted them, he’d identify the coins as fakes.

  A risk Lena couldn’t afford.

  She needed him out of the picture for as long as possible, and that meant using something stronger than a basic sleep spell. It would cost her another memory of Azim, but the alternative was failure, an outcome she refused to contemplate. Calling upon Sekhmet again, she buried the caravan under a mystical sand spell that would put even an immortal to sleep. She felt the pinch of a lost memory as Sekhmet took her prize, but it was over quickly, another fine moment in Azim’s arms gone like it had never been. All she was left with was a tearyeyed sadness.

  Then she ran for the west fence.

  She leapt the chain-link fence at a run and threaded through the low shrubs in her path. This time she’d avoid San Jose. Brian would expect her to head south, so instead she’d go north. To San Francisco. She had just more than twenty-four hours before the scheduled exchange, and she had no intention of leaving Heather to face the wrath of evil.