“Second marriage,” I whispered conspiratorially.
You’d have thought I rammed a poker up the clerk’s butt. I guess I was lucky he deigned to rent us a room at all.
“I’ll get some food while you give her a bath.” Luther scooped up the room key.
“What? No. Hey!” The last was shouted as he opened the door to our room. “Why can’t I get the food?”
Luther just rolled his eyes. Right. No naked girl babies around the kid.
“Does she really need a bath?” I asked. “It’s not like she’s been jogging or mud wrestling.”
“May have been a while since she’s had one. She smells a little funky.”
“Fine.” I waved my hand. “Go.”
He started to, then paused and glanced back. “You know you can’t leave her alone in the tub.”
“Duh.”
“You have to hold on to her every second. You only need an inch of water. Not too hot. But she can still drown in an inch.”
“You sure you don’t want to—”
He stepped outside and shut the door.
“Guess not.”
Faith was having a very important conversation with her toes. I took the reprieve to hunt through the diaper bag for anything that seemed like bath stuff. Finally I gave up, grabbed both the bag and the baby, and went into the bathroom.
Five minutes later I was as ready as I was going to get. I had an inch of water in the tub—not too hot. I’d dumped the diaper bag and found a washcloth and towel, along with some baby shampoo. I’d managed to remove Faith’s pink sun suit, as well as her diaper, without making her cry.
I lifted her and set her in the water. Faith’s eyes went wide and she caught her breath. If she screamed, this was going to be the world’s shortest bath. Instead she gurgled, kicked, splashed, cooed, and—
Grrrr.
Growled?
I peered at the washcloth I was running over her chubby, slippery body. Not a dog in sight. Nothing on the shampoo bottle but an unbelievably cherubic child with a head full of suds. No anti-slip stickers on the bottom of the tub. What the hell?
Maybe she was just imitating Luther. Although I couldn’t recall him growling in her presence, that didn’t mean he hadn’t when I wasn’t around. Could babies this young imitate sounds? Only one way to find out.
“Can you say Liz?” I asked in a chirpy voice that made Faith stop kicking and stare at me wide-eyed. I couldn’t blame her.
“Liz,” I tried again.
Faith blinked. Maybe Liz was too difficult. There had to be a reason children said Da-Da or Ma-Ma first.
“Luther? Say Luther. Lu-Lu-Lu.”
“Glurg,” Faith said. I felt like an idiot.
Quickly I finished washing then drying her. I slapped on a diaper and found a one-piece deal with feet that snapped from the ankle to the neck. It was soft and yellow and looked like pajamas to me.
Faith began to tug at my shirt again so I grabbed a clean bottle and the can of formula, read the directions, and managed to get her fed before Luther returned.
She was falling asleep on my lap when he came in. “Wake her and die a thousand deaths,” I whispered.
He grinned before setting the bags of takeout—hamburgers and fries from the smell of them—on the dresser. “You did fine.”
“Piece of cake.”
“I’ll put her down.” He leaned over to take her but I tightened my hold.
“She’s okay. Go ahead and eat.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“I’ll wait.”
I couldn’t explain it but I didn’t want to let the baby go right now. She was warm and soft. She was quiet. Her mouth continued to suckle even though the bottle was nowhere near. When she rubbed her cheek against my breast, the scent of water and trees wafted upward.
My eyes stung. How could she smell just like Sawyer?
I held her for an hour. The steady pace of her breathing lulled me. I hadn’t felt such peace since—
I’d never felt such peace. My life had been one long, unholy jumble of chaos.
While I held Faith I opened my mind, tried to see anything that I could. But she was a baby. She lived in the now. All I saw in her head was a swirling array of faces—mine, Luther’s, Megan’s, Anna’s, Quinn’s—then a bottle and the binkie. Not a hint of Mommy, not a trace of Daddy. Must be nice to have such simple dreams.
Luther took a shower and crawled into bed. He flicked on the television, kept the sound turned low. Before I fell asleep in the chair, I set Faith in the middle of my mattress, quickly ate a cold hamburger while I researched a few things on the Internet, then yanked off my jeans and climbed in. I lined the far side of the bed with pillows and curled my body around hers.
“Sawyer,” I whispered. “Why the hell did you think this was a good idea?”
I awoke to a darkness so complete, I immediately understood the power had gone out. The only thing that glittered was a thin slice of the moon. Every security light in the parking lot was black, the neon of the sign cold and bleak, the glow from the complimentary night-light long gone.
“Liz?” Luther breathed, not even a whisper.
“Shh.”
I listened for the whip of the wind, the slash of rain, distant thunder. A storm having gone through would explain the power outage—although I couldn’t believe I would have slept through it.
I hadn’t. Someone was in the room. I could feel them. I could almost smell them.
I tilted my head, searching for the telltale buzz that would indicate Nephilim, and got nothing. That should be a good indication of a human; however, the Nephilim had found ways in the past to cloak their nature.
Still, be they human or be they demon, the lack of light and the sneaking around rather than knocking on the door gave me a pretty good clue that they weren’t here to help.
For the first time since I’d received it, my knife was not under my pillow. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to take a knife to bed with a baby. Go figure.
My gun was on the nightstand, but instead of reaching for it, I snatched the kitten blanket off the floor, then lifted the bedspread, tossed the blanket over Faith, and yanked the spread back down to muffle the flash as she changed. An instant later, someone shone a light into my eyes, nearly blinding me.
Luther snarled and went for his weapon. One of the dark shadows punched him. His nose snapped like uncooked spaghetti.
As I came off the bed, something looped around my neck and wrenched me back down. I fell so hard I bounced several inches off the mattress. My neck burned as if the rope had been dipped in acid. Before I could try to pull it off, my wrists were captured, as were my ankles. Wherever the bindings touched, agony erupted.
These intruders knew more about me than I liked. They’d come prepared with golden chains to bind a dhampir.
Luther’s lion rumbled just below the surface. I glanced in his direction, hissing when the movement rubbed the chain where I was already raw. The boy lay so still I would have feared him unconscious if he hadn’t been growling. He had to be bound as well.
“Shift,” I ordered.
“Can’t.” The word came out choked, full of pain. Whatever they’d done, it had not only incapacitated Luther but kept him from changing.
I counted four shadows. Big and hulking. Maybe men, maybe not.
“I’m going to kill you for this,” I said. Although not right now. Right now I was going to lie here and ache.
Someone laughed. A man. “All we want is the kid, and then we’ll leave y’all alone.”
Smooth and southern, nearly genteel, the voice was at odds with the size of the shadow and the behavior of its owner.
I took a deep breath, trying to catch a whiff of lion. The shifters who’d killed Luther’s parents were still searching for him. He’d killed a few, but I was sure there were more, and I figured these were them. How else would they know the secret that would keep this boy from sprouting claws?
“You should have tho
ught of that before you broke his nose,” I said.
“Not him. Her.”
“Her, who?” I asked.
Another shadow backhanded me. My teeth sliced my lip, and I tasted blood. My stomach rumbled. My collar might contain the demon, but it still crouched inside me, and blood called to it like a siren on the deep blue sea.
I wished I knew enough magic to take off my collar without benefit of hands. There wouldn’t be anything left of these guys but toenails. Unfortunately, once my demon was loose there wouldn’t be much left of Faith or Luther, either.
“We came for the baby.”
“Do I look like someone who’d drag a baby around?”
“Then what’s that?” He jabbed a gun at the lump on the bed. A third shadow grabbed the comforter and yanked it from the mattress. The lump beneath the kitty-cat blanket wiggled. The sound of a gun being cocked echoed in the sudden heavy silence of the room.
“Are you insane?” I must have surprised whoever was holding my leash because I managed to throw myself over the lump just as the gun went off.
Agony stabbed my shoulder. I had no time to dwell on the pain since the chain around my neck tightened, effectively cutting off my air, scalding my skin, and dragging me off the bed.
I twisted and kicked and wound up slamming face-first into the carpet. My nose went crunch, too, and blood flowed like rain.
The room went silent. My shoulder stung, but whatever had been in the gun had not been gold, so the pain was bearable. I scrambled to my knees—not easy when bound hand, foot, and neck—and discovered that when they’d dragged me off the mattress, I’d dragged the blanket off the baby. Now everyone could see that she wasn’t a baby at all.
The adorable black kitten yawned, blinked into the bright light, then began to wash a paw with her pretty pink tongue.
“It’s a . . . cat. Where’s the baby?”
“I don’t know who gives you your info, pal, but that”—I lifted my chin toward the kitten, and a few droplets of blood arced through the air—“is the closest thing to a baby I’ve seen in years.”
Luckily I’d repacked the diaper bag, which now sat on the dresser looking like just another ugly purse. Of course, if they checked the garbage they’d find a used diaper. I’d try to BS my way out of that somehow, but I didn’t think they’d buy it.
“Why would you believe I had a baby?” I asked quickly. If I kept them talking, they weren’t searching the place. “And why do you want one?”
“I do what I’m told, sweetheart. I don’t ask questions. That’s how I’ve lived this long.”
I frowned. “How long?”
The man laughed again. I could make out nothing but the shape of his face, his height. The spotlight in my eyes kept me from seeing specifics like hair color or nose size. But I’d remember that voice and that laugh for a very long time.
“Let’s go, boys.”
“Shouldn’t we—” one of the others began, but he cut them off.
“I wasn’t paid to do anything but take that baby.”
I twitched my shoulder—the one with the bullet still inside. “You weren’t paid to take her. You were paid to kill her.”
“They told me you were smart,” he said, and then he was gone.
As soon as the door shut behind them, I was up and hurrying toward Luther, who lay on the bed, still as death but snarling. Faith stretched, yawned, tucked her nose beneath her tail, and went back to sleep.
“Why didn’t you see them coming?” I asked. “Didn’t Ruthie warn you?”
My hands and ankles were bound with golden cuffs. I wasn’t sure how I’d ever get them off, but first things first. I needed to free Luther.
I had to use both my fingers and my teeth on the ropes—and thank God they were ropes, not chains. Still, they tasted like mud soup seasoned with pepper. The blood from my broken nose dried on my skin and began to flake off, casting onto the white sheets like rust-colored dust. As soon as Luther was loose, he unwound the golden chain from my neck.
“You need to go after them,” I said. “I’ll”—I lifted my cuffed hands—“call a locksmith.”
Luther grabbed his knife and began to pick the locks. I pulled away. “Luther! Go.”
He shook his head, curls bobbing. Since he still hadn’t answered any of my questions, I asked one again. “What did Ruthie say they were?”
“She didn’t.”
Panic made my heart race. “What did they do to you?” Something that had made him unable to change into a lion, but what if—“Did they take all your powers?”
“No. Just put the kava-kava on the ropes to keep me from shifting.”
“What’s kava-kava?”
“Herb from the South Pacific. Mostly used for stress relief. With shifters, it makes the muscles too lax to change.”
How did he know this stuff when I didn’t? It was infuriating.
“If you’ve still got all your powers, why don’t you know what they were?”
“Oh, I know what they were,” Luther muttered. Click. The handcuffs fell to the floor, and Luther lifted his blazing amber eyes to mine. “They were human, Liz. Not Nephilim at all.”
CHAPTER 8
“Human?” Luther nodded, lips tight as he picked at the lock on my ankle cuffs. “You’re sure?”
“Did you feel any vibe? Because I didn’t.”
When evil’s near there’s a buzz. Nothing too flashy, just a vibration, both tactile and auditory, like a thousand bees around your head or a very large lawn mower idling right next to you. But I hadn’t felt it and neither had Luther.
My ankle cuffs fell to the carpet with a muted clank. “Not bad,” I said. The kid obviously had experience.
I rushed to the door, glanced outside. The power was still out, but the sliver of a moon reflected off the concrete lot, as well as the hoods of all the cars—just enough to reveal that no one was there.
“You’re bleeding, Liz.” Luther stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. His eyes shone dark topaz, and his nostrils flared as he scented the night. He shook his head. He didn’t think anyone was there, either.
“So are you.” His nose was crooked. I was going to have to fix that. It was going to hurt.
“I’ve got a flashlight.” He turned away from the door, which I shut and locked. However they’d gotten in, it hadn’t been by breaking anything.
I was tempted to tell Luther to forget about first aid until morning. With only a flashlight, I doubted he’d be able to dig the bullet out of my shoulder anyway. Then the power went on with a thunk. The TV flashed blue flame at the center of the screen before an infomercial detailing the one hundred greatest hard-rock love songs—were there a hundred?—began.
Luther’s fist shot out and crunched the off button as he went past. I had a feeling that TV was never going to go on again.
I glanced outside once more. The parking lot was now lit like a carnival. On the road, a municipal light and power truck idled.
In the bathroom, Luther and I stood side by side in front of the mirror. Both our noses were crooked and swollen, our faces flecked with blood. If we were human we’d have black eyes tomorrow. Because we weren’t, the swelling had already stopped.
To heal even faster, we’d need to shape-shift, and I planned to once we were put back together. By morning no one would ever suspect Luther and I had passed anything other than an uneventful night.
Before I could think about it too much, I jerked my nose into place. Shards of pain pierced my brain, and I bent over, breathing through my mouth as my eyes streamed. “Damn, that smarts.” But when I straightened, my face was back the way it should be.
I’d been told often enough that I was exotically beautiful. Probably because of the contrast between my bright blue eyes and darker-than-Caucasian skin. My cheekbones were high, my nose—usually—a straight blade. I was tall and slim, with a decent-sized rack. Guys liked me even though, more often than not, I had little use for them.
I’d known since I was old
enough to know such things that appearances deceive. A pretty outside often covers a very ugly inside. People who took one look at me and decided they wanted to get to know me because of my appearance never got to.
“Here.” I reached for Luther’s mashed nose.
He lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl and twitched his nose into place himself. The bone made an audible crack, and his snarl became decidedly un-silent.
I pulled off my ruined gauze top and turned so I could see my shoulder. The skin was already knitting back together over the hole. “The bullet has to come out.”
I wouldn’t die from an infection, but I wouldn’t feel too great while my body fought one, either.
My gaze met Luther’s in the mirror. “I don’t think I can do it myself.”
I carried a heavy-duty first-aid kit in my duffel. Luther sterilized the scalpel with alcohol then pressed a soaked piece of gauze to the hole. I clenched my teeth until the fiery sting faded.
“Better sit, Liz.” Luther indicated the toilet seat. “You might want to take off the bra or it’ll be ruined.”
“Nice try, big boy. The bra stays on.”
Luther snorted then hissed in a sharp breath. His nose might seem fine, but it obviously wasn’t. Not yet.
The kid still hesitated, and I glanced up. “Just do it, Luther. Quicker the better, okay?” He nodded, and then he did it. If I’d thought putting my nose back in place hurt, I’d been mistaken. That had been a bug bite in comparison.
At least the boy was quick. Less than a minute later the bullet pinged into the sink, and he pressed another alcohol-laced gauze pad to my shoulder. I muttered curses until the bright shiny lights at the edge of my vision went away.
Luther grabbed a roll of gauze, but I held up my hand. There was a better way.
My mother’s initial death had given me life—only one phoenix at a time, born from the ashes of the last. But a combination of black and white magic had kept my mother in limbo—dead enough to give birth, with the promise of resurrection as Doomsday moved toward Armageddon. Because of that magic, her powers had remained with her, leaving me clueless as to my heritage.
Chaos Bites Page 6