by Anthology
I shivered.
I seemed to be making a habit of dying.
I took the blanket Thom offered me and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then I looked around, taking stock. An easy task, because other than me, the paramedics, Gracie, Brian, Aaron, and the onlookers gathered in the fire door, the alley was empty.
“What happened to you?” Thom asked.
“There was a guy—” Actually, there were several, and they were demons, but I figured I shouldn’t mention that.
“What happened?” Gracie asked.
Don’t I wish I knew . . .
“There was this guy, and he jumped me,” I said, fabricating as I went. “And then he stabbed me—”
“Stabbed you!” Gracie said as Thom and his shadow shifted closer, faces both concerned and a little freaked.
“We didn’t find any—”
“I meant hit,” I said, brushing away Thom’s hands as they came close to my blanket. The material of my shirt had been ripped by the arrow; I was certain of that. But I was equally certain of what he’d see if he pushed the blanket aside. Perfectly healed flesh, right over my heart.
I’d died, yeah. But once again, it hadn’t stuck.
Dear God, dear God. What have you done to me?
“Alice? Alice!”
“He hit me,” I said, shaking my head, forcing myself to focus. “We, um, fought. He ripped my shirt. Hit me. And I guess I hit my head. He . . . I guess he got away.”
Or, rather, his buddies had carted him away. I grimaced, realizing too late that I could have used the dagger on which I’d impaled him to cut myself. I could have made it my own.
I could have used it and watched his body dissolve into demon goo.
“Blood,” the other paramedic said, crouched down over where I’d dropped the human-looking demon. He dabbed at it with a latex-coated finger. “Definitely blood.”
I shivered, suddenly light-headed and edgy as he stirred up the scent. A scent I’d keyed off earlier, the lust for blood fueling my lust to kill. Now, again, it filled my senses, primed me. But it was the blood I wanted now, not the kill. To imbibe it. To devour it.
The desire—the need—seemed to consume me, and I wanted away from these people, away from everything, because I couldn’t stand it, and the craving disgusted me as much as it compelled me.
Dear God, what have I become?
“Cops are on their way,” Thom said, forcing my mind out of its surreal haze. “And you’re on your way to the hospital.”
“No,” I said, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the scent. “I’m fine. Honest.”
“You had no heartbeat for over two minutes. You’re going to the hospital.”
“But—”
“Don’t you dare argue,” Gracie said. “You died!”
“Holy shit,” I said, climbing to my feet. I had died. And I’d come back.
I’d come back just like Zane. I’d killed him, and then I’d watched him come back.
And he would have the answers I needed.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, before taking off running. “But I have to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What have you done to me?” I asked, slamming Zane against the closed side of the equipment cabinet, making the knives and swords on the other side clatter. “What the hell have you people done to me?”
He looked me straight in the eyes, completely unperturbed by my fury. “You seem upset, ma petite.”
“Do not fuck with me. I died,” I said, and saw the slightest flicker in his eyes. “I died,” I repeated. “And yet here I am. Again.”
“Ma chérie,” he said, his voice soft and almost hesitant. “I do not understand.”
Because my knife was still lodged under the debris in an alley, I grabbed one from the cabinet and thrust it forward, slamming the blade through the thin metal beside his ear and burying it up to the hilt. “Bullshit! That’s bullshit!”
Even as I ranted, some part of me very logically announced that coming back from the dead was a good thing. That whatever cool new gift came with my fancy demon-assassin package, it was a handy trick to have in my repertoire.
Because if the Über-assassin-chick can’t be killed, that makes her even better at her job. Right?
Right.
But calm, cold logic didn’t quell the hot rush of anger and betrayal.
I didn’t want immortality sprung upon me like a Cracker Jack surprise, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be a mere tool, with everyone else knowing more about my life than I did.
I didn’t like it, but I was afraid I was going to have to live with it.
“Tell me,” I repeated, trying to force the answers I so desperately needed. “Tell me now.”
“Explain exactly what happened.”
“No,” I spat. “You explain. You said I get strength when I kill with my blade? Maybe so. But I get a whole hell of a lot more that that, don’t I? That sexual tingle. The bloodlust. The goddamned immortality. I take something inside me. Don’t I? Don’t I?” My eyes stung, and I could feel the tears hot and heavy behind my eyes. I knew I needed to rein it in, but something dark and bitter was inside me. Something raging and silent, pushing me along.
Demons.
With each kill, I was somehow sucking in their vileness. Their blackness. Their rage and desolation.
I soaked in what they felt, what they wanted, what they craved. Be it pain, or fury, or blood.
And I drew in their anger—an anger I was currently quite happy to inflict on Zane.
“You will release me now,” he said, “and we will speak calmly. If not, I assure you it will not go well for you.”
With a humorless laugh, I pushed myself back. “Go well for me? There’s the understatement. Especially since there isn’t even a me anymore. And there’s less and less each day.”
I ran my fingers through my hair and stalked to the sparring ring, my gaze on those oily stains, the evidence of slain demons. “Please,” I said, my voice small. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”
I turned to him and was mortified to realize that not only had tears spilled down my cheeks, but he was close enough to brush them away.
The touch of his thumb across my cheek sent shivers through me, and when he pulled me close and stroked my hair, I lost it. “I can’t do this, Zane. I can’t fight for good if it’s going to make me evil. If it’s going to make me wrong.”
“Hush, ma fleur. We will figure this out together, you and I.”
I leaned back and examined his face. “You didn’t know?”
“I swear to you that I did not.”
I took in his face, tried to find the truth in there, and found more than I was looking for. I’d let down my guard, and before I could stop it, I was tugged in, dark images filling my mind, along with a desperate, deep sadness.
I jerked away, terrified he’d realize what I’d done, that I’d been inside his head.
But as my heart pounded fearfully in my chest, he merely held my hand. “Chérie?” he said. “It will be okay.”
I licked my lips, realizing he hadn’t noticed. I’d slipped in quick and fast and if he’d felt me in there, he must not have known what it was. “How?”
He stroked my hair, and the sadness I’d seen in his eyes filled his voice. “I do not know,” he said. “There are times when I fear it will never be all right again.”
I pressed my lips tight together, certain I’d just seen more of Zane than he wanted to reveal. I rested my head against his shoulder, wanting to ask him what was wrong. Wanting to know his past, and about the demons that troubled him, too. I didn’t though. Instead, I asked a simple question. “So what do I do now?”
He sighed. “You wait,” he said. And then he left me there, alone with the dark thoughts oozing through my mind. I shivered, not much liking my own company anymore, and desperate to try to find the real Lily behind the black veil that was shrouding my head.
I don’t know how long I stood there, sort of floati
ng in a sea of angst, but the next thing I knew, Clarence was in front of me, his fedora pulled low, his eyes bugging out in their usual froggy way. In other words, he looked like his normal, ugly, irritating self.
And I couldn’t have been happier to see him.
“It’s the essence, pet,” he said without preamble. “You take a bit of the essence of each creature you kill.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I actually figured that one out on my own. You want to tell me why you didn’t mention it before?”
“Couldn’t tell you what I wasn’t sure about.”
“What do you mean?”
“You passed a test, pet,” he said, then spread his hands wide. “Congratulations.”
“A test?” I’d done little more than get myself killed. I mean, yes, the resurrection thing was rather cool, but I hadn’t exactly been in control.
“That’s the point,” he said.
“Stay out of my brain. And what’s the point?”
“This is one of the signs. The signs that prove you were the girl of the prophecy.”
“That I’d come back from the dead?”
“That you would absorb the essence of those you killed. You’re our girl, Lily. No doubt about it.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “I thought we already knew that.”
He pulled off a Gallic shrug. “Eh. Hard to ever be completely sure. But I’d say we are now.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “So let’s make sure I’ve got the full picture here, okay?” I didn’t wait for either him or Zane to nod me on. “My job is to kill demons.” I spoke carefully, as if talking to especially slow first-graders. “And demons are evil. And when I kill them, I suck that evil inside me.”
“That’s pretty much the sum of things.”
“But I thought I was getting a chance at redemption. A chance to make up for the things that I’ve done. A chance to kick evil’s butt in the name of all things warm and fuzzy. And now I find out I’m a huge storage bin for evil karma? What the hell have you people done to me?”
“Do you truly think you would have been chosen if we did not believe that you could handle this?”
“Handle? Handle what? Handle knowing that if I die, I’ll rot in hell? Or, oh, wait. Dying is the least of my problems now. You people have tainted my soul.”
Clarence moved toward me, getting right in my face. “You think the big guy woulda picked you if you couldn’t handle it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
“There’s a lot of things out there to be scared of, ma fleur,” Zane said. “Don’t include yourself in that group.”
“Easy for you to say. With each kill, I become what I beheld. How am I supposed to live with that?”
“Because it ain’t really you.” Clarence took off his fedora and ran the rim through his fingers. “Compartmentalize, pet. Use what you need—the fury, the bloodlust—and lock the rest away.”
“Blood.” I looked at him, the import of the blood from the demon in the alley suddenly striking me. “He bled.”
I watched as confusion crossed Clarence’s face. “Eh? What are you—”
“He was human. Don’t you see? The demon I killed—right before the other one killed me. He was freaking human! He was possessed,” I said, remembering Clarence’s lesson in Demonic Basics. I looked from Zane to Clarence, feeling slightly sick. “Oh, dear God, he was possessed, and I saw the demon leave. I killed him. I killed an innocent human. Killed,” I repeated. “Not only am . . .alking vacuum for demonic essence, but I’m also now a murderer.” Twice over, actually, when you counted Lucas Johnson. And considering that killing him was what started this whole thing, I definitely added him into the mix.
Clarence looked at me calmly, his very coolness irritating. I wanted him to rage, to fly about. To exercise the same fury that burned in me. “Yeah, you killed. I get that. But check it out, pet. You killed something evil. Vile. And that, kid, is pretty much why you were made.”
“Vile?” I repeated. “He was possessed. This big demon cloud thing came out of him.”
“Not all possession’s by force. Most welcome it. Want the power inside them.”
I thought of the human’s eyes and knew that he hadn’t welcomed the demon in. “Not this one,” I said.
Clarence sighed. “What do you want me to tell you, pet? That you fucked up? You didn’t. Whether the human wanted it or not, the fact was he’d been possessed. Probably woulda stayed that way until his body wore out and the demon moved on. That wouldn’t have taken long. Humans are frail, and this human was a tool—the body was a tool—and you destroyed that tool.”
I shook my head, understanding what he was saying, but hating it nonetheless. I wanted to protect the innocent. Not slaughter them when danger got too close.
“In every war, there are casualties. You did exactly what you were made to do.”
“I thought I was made to stop the demon priest from opening the Ninth Gate. I thought I wasn’t supposed to run around killing demons without your say-so,” I said, feeling more than a little surly.
“Don’t whine, pet, and don’t play stupid. You are what you are, and what you are is a weapon against evil. They know it. They know you’re going after them; evil’s gonna fight back. When it does, you defend yourself. You damn well better do that or we really are lost.”
I drew in a breath, deflating now because he was right. “Fuck.” I slid to my knees, suddenly exhausted, the weight of emotion and horror pressing me down. “He wanted to kill me. They all did. Demon and human. This wasn’t some random attack on a girl in an alley. This was about me.”
I shifted my gaze from Clarence to Zane, needing both of them. “How did they know where I was?” I shook my head, remembering the shadowy figure outside the pub. And remembering Deacon inside the restaurant. I hugged myself and filled my head with children’s songs, hoping Clarence hadn’t already taken a peek inside my mind.
“Someone set you up, pet,” Clarence said. “Let’s think on who coulda done such a thing. Who knows you’re here? Who knows what and who you are?”
“The Grykon knew, but he’s dead.”
“I believe we’ve already addressed the fact that you failed to kill the Grykon in the ceremonial chamber,” Zane reminded me.
“Oh, God,” I said, finally understanding the import of that mistake. “There was plenty of time for it to have a beer with its little demonic buddies and spread the word.”
“True enough,” Clarence said. “But we’ve still got another suspect waiting in the wings. Someone else who saw you in action.” He looked at me hard, his eyes knowing.
“Deacon Camphire,” I said, the name coming reluctantly to my lips. “But he doesn’t know what I am.” Even as I spoke the words, I wasn’t sure. What if he’d been playing me all along?
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I don’t know that I can do this. Constantly on alert. Danger in every shadow. I’m not that canny. I’m not the girl you people think I am.”
“Trust me,” he said. “You are.”
“I killed. I killed just like you guys told me to.” I thought of the pungent scent of the human’s blood. “But now I have to live with myself—with what I’ve done and what I’m becoming—and I’m not sure I know how.”
Zane stepped forward, then lowered himself, balancing on his heels, thighs straining against denim. “You live with yourself because you must. You sleep at night because you know that you are fighting the good fight. That, because of you, there is one less stain of evil upon the world.”
“And if I become the stain?”
“Do not do this to yourself, chérie. Evil is a virus. You have eradicated an infection upon the world.”
“Eradicated?” I asked bitterly. “It’s not eradicated. It’s inside me.” I took a deep breath, tried to quell the sense of horror growing within me. “What if I can’t handle it?”
“You will,” he said. “Because, ma petite fle
ur, you have no other option.”
No other option . . .
His words stayed with me, hanging on my shoulders like a cloak as I moved silently toward the elevator, not stopping, not looking back, even though they both called my name.
I went first to the restaurant. To that alley where I’d died the second time. It was quiet now. Safe. The stains on the concrete were the only signs of the violence that had come before. That, and the faint scent of blood on the air. Just enough to rile me. To get that hum going in my belly.
I licked my lips and rolled my shoulders, determined not to fall prey to my own damned nature. Instead, I did the one thing I’d come to do—I dropped to my knees and felt around in the grime by the door until I found my knife. Standing, I sheathed it, feeling suddenly more like myself simply because I knew it was there, its minuscule weight somehow grounding me.
I’m not sure where I walked, or for how long, but my steps ate up the streets as the night deepened. The streets cleared, workers going home to families, until only a few cars dotted the roads, and the only pedestrians were those who called the street home.
When I finally glanced around, trying to get my bearings, I realized that I’d walked through the night. Though the sun hadn’t yet broken the horizon, already commuters were loading up and pouring off a nearby train platform. I hesitated, then made my decision, paying the fare and stepping on the train, letting the rumble of the train hypnotize me, my mind as empty as the car and kicking back to life only when we pulled into the station. I pushed through the living wall trying to enter the car as I was trying to leave, then stumbled to the exit not entirely sure why I’d come.
No. That’s a lie. I’d come for Rose. Or, more accurately, I’d come for me.
I caught up with her at the high school, standing off to the side as the number twenty-eight bus pulled up. I thought of Clarence’s warning that I could be putting her in danger. But I wouldn’t speak to her. Wouldn’t single her out. I’d simply stand there and see and maybe, just maybe, feel a connection to myself again.
I swallowed hard, seeing her descend from the yellow beast like a sleepwalker, dark circles under her eyes, looking even more harrowed than she had when she’d answered the door only yesterday. The girls she used to hang with—the ones who’d claimed to be her friends—circled past as if she weren’t even there. In a way, they were right. My sister was no longer in that shell. Johnson may have let her body live, but she was dead nonetheless.