Bound by Darkness

by Annette McCleave

  Brian was searching for her, guaranteed.

  She wasn’t too sure what to make of his cell phone silence. She had expected him to call her at least once. Were the dead airwaves an indication of his anger level? It was hard to picture him angry with her. For some reason she could see only the expression on his face the last time they made love—the day he’d confessed to being a heroin addict. Open, honest, and reaching out, just a little.

  They’d shared something special in that moment.

  No, she couldn’t believe he was too angry to call. More likely he was busy moving heaven and earth to find her. Or rather, to find the coins.

  She glanced at her watch. Six hours left. Her meeting with Malumos was scheduled for seven p.m. She had a plan she hoped would work, and everything was in place. All she had to do was stay ahead of Brian for six more hours and her nightmare would all be over. One way or another.

  Her phone buzzed again, and her pulse leapt expectantly.

  But it was Kiyoko.

  “Hi,” Lena said.

  “The word on the grapevine is that you’re trading the Judas coins for Heather’s life.”

  Lena tensed. Brian. Damn him. “Yes.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No, just desperate.”

  “I respect you greatly, Lena. You know this. Under any other circumstances I would have happily aided your campaign to recover your granddaughter. But handing a dark relic to Satan? I can’t support that.”

  The Japanese woman’s words were gentle but firm.

  Kiyoko had a painful history with demons, and she understood the current turmoil in the world better than most. Knowing her chances of swaying Kiyoko were poor, yet out of options, Lena said, “Heather is an innocent in all this. Don’t back out of taking her, please. Punish me, not her.”

  Kiyoko sighed. “I’m sorry, Lena. You’re on your own.”

  The phone went dead.

  Lena felt like her heart had flatlined with the phone. Even if she miraculously managed to free Heather, without a way to hide the girl—to keep her out of the demons’ clutches—that freedom would be temporary. For both of them. She glanced out the car window as she tucked the phone back in her purse. A posh Star-wood Hotel only a couple of blocks from the Farmers Market.

  Just the sort of place she needed for stage one of her plan.

  “Pull in here,” she said to the cabdriver. “I need to make a reservation. Wait for me.”

  Brian was out of time.

  He’d done everything in his power to track Lena down in the last two days—to no avail. She’d remained off their radar. He closed the door to the library and locked it. MacGregor had tried to talk him out of this crazy plan, warning him that it could go either way. Which was true—it could. But Brian had one thing working in his favor that MacGregor didn’t.

  Death liked him.

  Okay, it probably wasn’t real fondness. More like she had some ulterior motive she wasn’t sharing, but she’d saved his ass more times than he could count. And with any luck, she’d do it again today.

  He picked a spot in the middle of the room, braced his feet firmly on the floor, and performed the summoning chant. Unfortunately, the softly ticking countdown of the clock on the mantel got the best of him and he mangled the phrasing. Taking a deep breath, pushing the possibility of failure clear of his mind, he murmured the words again.

  An instant later, with no notice whatsoever, a gray-faced ghoul appeared beside him, blinking its milky white eyes.

  “I request an audience,” Brian said. Then, because he knew how capricious and sly Death could be, he added, “Now.”

  Her bony bodyguard stared at him for a long, silent moment, then nodded abruptly and disappeared.

  Before he could contemplate where the creature had gone, he was yanked through the frigid barriers of time and space to the foggy caverns in Antarctica that Death called home. At least, he figured that was where he ended up, based on the ice-cold air he sucked into his lungs. It took a moment for the frost on his eyelids to melt enough for him to open his eyes.

  “I hope you have good cause for this intrusion, Gatherer.”

  Brian spun around. Death sat on her onyx throne, swathed in black satin, masses of loose white curls piled on her head like a debutante. At her back, icy blue walls shimmered with the flickering gold of a thousand tea lights.

  “I need your help,” he confessed.

  A trickle of derisive laughter slid down his spine. “Are you mad? You’ve been gallivanting all over the globe for almost two weeks, searching for those blasted coins. In that time, three of my Gatherers have been slain, and I have yet to receive one communication from you. Why would I help you?”

  “Because you’ve got a soft spot for me?”

  Expression unreadable, Death stood up, her black gown shimmering in the golden light. “Once, perhaps.” Giving sublime definition to the adjective pale, she descended the steps from her throne and passed by him in a cool waft of crystalline scent. “But rather than develop into the worthy warrior I had hoped for, you’ve become a lovesick do-gooder.”

  Lovesick? That actually smarted. “I think if you check the Soul Gatherer manual,” he said nicely, “you’ll find I’m supposed to be doing good. That’s how I get to heaven.”

  Pivoting, she stabbed him with her icy blue gaze. “Did you just admonish me?”

  “Of course not. Wouldn’t dare.” As much as he enjoyed a good debate, if he wanted to find Lena before the trade was made, he needed to put this negotiation into high gear. “Look, I know you have a hate-on for Satan. You’ve as much as said he’s a two-bit soul whore. So help me out here. He’s making a grab for more of the Judas coins.”

  “One of the dark relics you mentioned.” She scooped a handful of dried fruit from the large silver bowl on the side table. “And what kind of aid do you need?” A piece of candied pineapple disappeared between her ruby lips.

  “I need to find Lena Sharpe.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Dangerous question. An honest answer might lose him Death’s fond regard. “She took thirteen of the Judas coins and made a run for it. I need to track her down.”

  “That’s easy, then. We’ll just use the database.”

  “She’s too smart for that. She won’t sit still, and the database won’t be able to get a firm lock on her.”

  Death dumped the uneaten fruit back in the bowl and crossed the cavern to a misty gray wall of ice. A wave of her slim hand parted the fog to reveal a kaleidoscope of colors dancing over a map of the world. “What makes you think I can find her if the database can’t?”

  “Two words: the seers.”

  She tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Oh dear. You don’t believe that story, do you? The existence of my hallowed coven of seers is an amusing piece of Gatherer folklore, no more.”

  “Bullshit.”

  A light laugh danced its way around the room. “Do I detect a note of worry, Webster? Fear not. The psychics do not exist, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find her.”

  Relief flooded him. For a second there, he thought he’d bet on the wrong horse. “Great. Show me where she is.”

  “Not so fast. First, we must agree to terms.”

  Brian rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders. Here we go. Negotiation time. Problem was, he didn’t have a whole lot to offer. “You have a starting price in mind?”

  “Perhaps.” Another wave of her hand brought the map of California to the forefront, enlarged to fill the screen. “I understand something unique happened in your last battle with the demons.”

  “Lots of interesting stuff happened,” he said dryly. “Can you be a bit more specific?”

  “The demons were in possession of something that impacted Archangel Uriel’s ability to do battle.”

  A heavy weight settled on his chest. “A piece of Lucifer’s Shattered Halo,” he admitted.

  “Yes. And you acquired a piece yourself.” Death’s map zoomed in on the greater
Los Angeles area, then closer still. “Give me that Shattered Halo fragment and I’ll give you Lena’s whereabouts.”

  “No deal.”

  She whirled around, her crinolines rustling, a curl of mist rising up from the floor. “Surely I misheard you.”

  “No deal,” he repeated firmly, his gaze meeting hers. “I gave the shard to Uriel, so I can’t give it to you, and I need to know Lena’s location within the next few minutes or the information is worthless.”

  “She’s in the process of trading the coins.”

  “Yes.”

  She tapped the long white nail of her right hand against her lip. “How unfortunate. The shard is the only item I’m interested in. It would seem we cannot strike a bargain.”

  “What do you intend to do with it?”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “You don’t really expect me to answer that.”

  Expected, no. Hoped, yes. It would have made his decision a lot easier. “What if I promise to collect it later?”

  She smirked. “Having seen the number of humans who make promises when faced with my mark on their cheek, only to renege, I haven’t a lot of faith in the concept. Blood oaths are more my cup of tea.”

  “Okay,” he said warily. “How do I make a blood oath?”

  “It’s simple. You swear to bring me back the shard or pay the penalty of death.”

  He frowned. “I’m already dead.”

  Her smirk became an outright smile. A cold, calculating smile. “How true. Which means all you can offer is another five-hundred-year term in my service.”

  Brian’s heart pounded. A second term with Death if he failed to bring her the shard. Talk about a high-risk deal. But if he didn’t accept, he’d lose Lena ... and the coins. And this was his best hope for preventing Satan from gaining more power. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and Death knew it.

  Suddenly, he had a lot more respect for Murdoch.

  “In return for Lena’s whereabouts right this second, I swear to bring you a piece of Lucifer’s halo or pay the penalty of a second term.”

  “I accept.”

  Death pointed her long white fingernail at the small wooden chest lying at the base of her throne, the one she used as a footstool. The lid creaked open to reveal a tiny glowing orb, gold in color and blinding in intensity. Opening her hand, she invited the orb to approach. And it did, floating across the room to settle softly on her palm.

  She turned back to her ice map.

  As she held the orb up before the map, a small red dot appeared on the street grid. The map then zoomed in until the image was as detailed as a satellite photo. The red dot glowed brightly atop the image of a modern high-rise.

  “She’s riding the elevator in a rather lovely hotel on La Cienega Boulevard. Not her usual choice—I think you’ve been a bad influence on her, Webster.” Clearly in a magnanimous mood, she asked, “Would you like to join her?”

  “Not in the elevator,” Brian said hastily. Lena couldn’t know he’d found her. Not yet. Not until he knew exactly what she was up to. “But once she’s inside her room, you could drop me in the hallway.”

  A hotel room seemed a poor choice for an exchange. Privacy was highly overrated in situations like this. Out in the open, where everyone felt a little uncomfortable with the bystanders, usually worked best.

  “Can you tell what she’s doing?” he asked.

  Death sighed. “Give you an inch and you demand a mile.”

  Holding up the golden orb a second time, she murmured something unintelligible.

  The map vanished, replaced by a somewhat hazy image of a luxurious hotel room—the kind of place Brian would happily frequent. The image wasn’t static;it bobbed and swayed. It took him a moment to figure out why.

  “Are we seeing this from Lena’s point of view?”

  “Yes.”

  As he watched, Lena opened the closet door and crouched before a small room safe. She dug into her purse, pulled out a small velvet bag, and yanked open the drawstring. Using a plastic glove—the sort you saw food handlers wearing all the time—she counted out six coins and stuffed them into the tiny cavity. Then she locked the door and turned to leave the room.

  “On second thought,” Brian said, “set me down in her room the instant she leaves.”

  Death’s eyes narrowed. “Be very careful. That sounded suspiciously like a directive, and I don’t take orders from minions.”

  “Lucky for us both, I’m not a minion.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her smooth, cool cheek. “Now would be a good time.”

  Their eyes met for a palpable moment.

  Then a bone-deep ache swallowed him whole. Every molecule of oxygen in his lungs was snatched away as his body hurtled thousands of miles around the earth in a split second.

  No one ended an interview like Death.

  They could have been mother and daughter: two blond women seated under a burgundy umbrella in front of the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, sipping iced lattes. Until you looked closer. Until you noticed the teen wasn’t drinking, but sitting comatose in her chair, her bony shoulders curled like withered leaves. Or you noticed that she had the pale, bruised skin that thrived only in shadow, not under the mellow warmth of a California sun.

  Lena took an instinctive step toward Heather, then halted.

  From here, it was impossible to see the demonic glint in the girl’s eyes, but experience told Lena that Mestitio commanded Heather’s movements, not the teen herself.

  She glanced around.

  Two of the triplets were accounted for. Where was the third? Given the importance of the coins, she expected him to be somewhere close.

  Blending with a chatty young family of four, Lena left the protective shade of the clock tower and circled the wooden chairs in front of the tower bookstore. As she neared the two women, she studied the faces of everyone in easy view of the coffeehouse. None of the visible faces triggered her internal alarms. Still no Maleficus.

  That made her uneasy, but wasn’t enough to deter her from the meeting. Lena split from the laughing family and veered toward the two women. They sat at the table farthest from the coffeehouse, and had somehow discouraged patrons from taking the two nearby tables.

  As she strode closer, the older woman looked up and smiled.

  “Have a seat,” Malumos said. “And a drink, of course. Heather hasn’t touched the latte we bought her, but we can’t let something this sinful go to waste.”

  Lena’s gaze roamed Heather’s face. There was no evidence she knew Lena was there. She sat still and withdrawn, like a statue in a wax museum. Her eyes were a dull and lifeless hazel, set amid purple bruises.

  A burn flared in Lena’s chest. Seeing Heather’s fragile condition in person hammered the consequences home with brutal force. Six months ago, the girl had been a healthy, buoyant teen with an infectious laugh. Now, she was teetering on the edge of death. Lena almost expected to see the cruel white spiral on her cheek that foretold an imminent demise.

  Her gaze swung to the older woman. Hot and angry, she said, “Let’s get this over with.”

  Malumos nodded. “Give us the coins.”

  Continuing to stand would draw attention, so Lena took a seat. Her knees gave out halfway, and she dropped to the chair with more momentum than she intended, the cold metal slamming into the backs of her knees. Digging into her purse, she located the velvet pouch and pulled it out.

  Could she truly go through with it? Could she really trade the lives of millions for the life of just one girl? Her gaze lifted to Heather’s gaunt face, and her heart squeezed as if it were caught in a vise.

  Yes, she could.

  She opened the drawstring and held out the pouch. “Tell him to get out of her,” she said flatly.

  The older woman peered inside. “There’re only seven coins there.”

  She nodded. “I’ve hidden the other six. As soon as Mestitio vacates Heather’s body, I’ll tell you where.”

  “That won’t be necessary, my dear. An
y moment now, Maleficus will arrive with those six coins and your pathetic bargaining chip will be gone.”

  Lena’s heart thudded. “I don’t believe you.”

  The demon smiled, his evil presence an inky swirl in the woman’s brown eyes. “Then you’re a fool. The coins speak to one another. That’s how we tracked down your little cohort in the desert.”

  Lena briefly closed her eyes. Poor Tariq hadn’t stood a chance. And if the coins truly did call to one another, she was lost, too. But she couldn’t let the demon see her fear.

  “He’ll never find them,” she sneered. “I put a Romany blanket spell over them. Any voice they might have has been silenced.”

  Malumos frowned.

  Lena had no idea if there was such a spell. It didn’t matter as long as Malumos believed there was. “The advantage of communing with my fellow Gatherers these past few days has been the knowledge I’ve gained. They were quite happy to teach a colleague a few new tricks.”

  “This is an all-or-nothing deal,” snapped Malumos. “Mestitio will not release the girl until we agree the time is right. And the time will not be right until we have all thirteen coins.”

  Almost on cue, Heather jerked.

  Lena glanced her way.

  The teen’s eyes were locked on Lena’s face, her pupils mere pinpricks in a pool of hazel. “Please,” she croaked from dry lips. “It hurts so bad. I need a fix. Do what he says.”

  Lena swallowed and looked away.

  Oh God.

  “Your move, Ms. Sharpe,” Malumos said, smiling broadly.

  The late-day sun continued to beam, the smell of fresh produce hung in the air, and somewhere in the distance a brass quartet played “Hello, Dolly.” It all seemed vaguely unreal. But Heather was shaking, her shoulders hunched in suffering.

  Sweat from Lena’s hand dampened the velvet bag.

  What should she do?

  18

  Brian studied the stiff set of Lena’s shoulders, surprised by the hot wave of anger that crashed over him. He’d been so damned certain there was a core of decency in her. Swore he saw it buried there, time and again. Being that wrong about her burned, and burned badly.