Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars

by Shannon K. Butcher

  One way or another, he was going to find a way to get through that pink head of hers.

  Chapter 21

  Ronan waited until the sun was high before he dared reach out for the Synestryn lord who had stolen his blood. The connection between them was weak now, as was the demon that had forged it. Like Ronan, its powers dwindled during the day, sapping its strength.

  Carefully and slowly, he slipped along the thread of blood and power that bound them, seeping into the demon’s mind by the tiniest drops. This contact was not about control, or about trying to rid Ronan’s mind of the foul presence that infected him. He didn’t make so much as a ripple as he passed, seeking out information only.

  The demon’s sleep shifted as it began to wake. Ronan held still, letting vile thoughts and memories flow around him like sewage. As each one touched him, he let it seep in, granting him information.

  The pain this creature had caused was a fetid, rotting cancer in Ronan’s mind. He didn’t dare fight it, but not judging the evil acts was much, much harder. Each moment of revulsion, each second of accusation forced the demon into wakefulness.

  There was little time left—only seconds before the beast woke and realized what Ronan was doing. Before it was too late and the demon snagged him and sucked him in, Ronan drifted back out of the festering decay of the creature’s thoughts and back into the cool, dark confines of his own mind.

  The familiar space comforted him. It helped wash away the repulsive horror of what he’d seen.

  Ronan lay still in the blackness of the basement, slowly sifting through the information that he’d gathered. Most of it was useless sludge that he discarded before it could take root and grow. But there were details that he’d collected—things that had been at the forefront of the demon’s thoughts.

  Of Raygh’s thoughts.

  This demon had a name. It fancied itself as some kind of king. As powerful as it was, Ronan was certain that lesser demons were quick to obey.

  Like the Handlers that Raygh had sent. They were powerful creatures in their own right, but had chosen to answer to Raygh for some reason Ronan could not fathom.

  That was interesting, but not nearly as important as the other information that Ronan had learned.

  Raygh had two sons. Both of them had been killed, and now he was seeking out all of those who had been present at the time of his sons’ deaths. That’s what those barb-tailed creatures were about. They were gathering blood, giving Raygh a way to track his prey and control them.

  And thanks to Ronan’s time in the festering slime of the demon’s mind, he knew exactly who Raygh was going after. Ronan had smelled them all before—both human and Sentinel.

  Rory and Cain were among them, as well as Iain, Jackie, Hope, Logan, Drake, Helen, the human child Autumn, and Beth—the woman Ronan had pulled from a cave a few months ago. All of them needed to be warned, and those who were tucked safely behind the walls of Dabyr needed to remain there.

  Ronan tried to lift his hand to pull his phone from his pocket, but he was too weak. In a few hours, when the sun lowered, he would be able to warn the others, but until then, his sole job was to maintain the barrier that he’d erected in his own mind—similar to the one he’d designed for Rory, but not nearly as strong. She had no idea what she was facing. Ronan did. There was only so much power he could expend, and his options were one weaker shield or two weak ones.

  The choice had been simple. The demon and he were a matched set. Both of them were stronger by night, both of them lived on blood. The only difference was, Ronan was careful of his food, while Raygh cared little for those from which he fed. They were vessels. Empty husks to be tossed aside when he was finished with them.

  That lack of hunger made Raygh stronger, but Ronan had something else on his side. Years of needing that which he could not have had given him an iron will. He controlled himself, and that was why, no matter how well fed the demon was, it would never get past Ronan’s defenses.

  He was no thing’s puppet.

  * * *

  By the time Rory got out of the shower, Cain was dressed and waiting for her, wearing a do-not-fuck-with-me look on his face.

  She eyed his jacket and the keys dangling from his thick fingers. “I guess we’re leaving?”

  “I’m leaving. You stay here with Ronan. You’ll be safe here.”

  “Safe? Are you kidding me?”

  “As safe as you’ll be anywhere. We can’t go to Dabyr with that demon in your head, which means I need to go kill it.”

  “Just like that. Do you even know where it is?”

  “Nope. But it’s got to be close to where you lost it. The more distance between you and it, the harder it would be for it to control you.”

  She didn’t want him to go. She wanted someone else to go and kill the bad guy. Not Cain. She wasn’t ready to lose him—especially not when he was risking his life for her. “This is insane. You can’t just go out there alone and hunt for demons.”

  “Why not? I do it all the time. Just another day at the office.”

  “Yeah, if your office is filled with poisonous teeth and claws.”

  He shoved the keys in his pocket and zipped up his jacket. “I should have left you a note. Just pretend that’s what I did.”

  He started to walk away, but she grabbed his arm. “Really? That’s how it’s going to be?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re mad at me, so you’re going to punish me by making me worry.”

  His brows drew together, and she swore she felt his arm vibrate with anger under the leather. “You’ve seen me, Rory. All the way through. You know me. Do you really think I’m that petty?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so until right now, seeing you ready to go.”

  His eye twitched. “I could have left without saying good-bye.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me. I’m a big girl. I can deal.” She pretended like it didn’t hurt that he was going to walk away. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d hit the mark.

  Rory turned her back and went to pick up her clothes. He’d gathered them from where she’d tossed them through the house and laid them on the bed. It was a thoughtful thing for a man to do when he was otherwise trying to hurt her.

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice dipping low.

  She tugged at the luceria, cursing its existence. “Stupid fucking necklace.”

  “Would you rather I go and find the person who can make it fall from your throat?” he asked.

  Rory sagged onto the bed, gripping her clothes against her chest. There was too much going on inside of her—too many emotions, too much stress. “What I want hardly seems to matter.”

  He stepped closer, his big, booted feet coming into view. “It matters to me.”

  “Does it?” She tipped her head back to look him in the eye. “You keep pushing me to be like those women in your memories, but I’m not like them.”

  “I know that now. I won’t make that same mistake again.”

  “So where does that leave me? I still have a demon trapped in my brain, and a magical necklace trapped around my throat. If I take it off, you die.”

  “Eventually. The colors in the luceria have not yet solidified. We still have time.”

  “You forget that you threw yourself wide open to me. I know how slim the chances are that you’ll find another woman compatible with your power before your soul dies. I’m not the kind of person who can walk away from that.”

  “I don’t want or need your pity.”

  Her voice lifted in frustration. “It’s not pity. It’s human fucking decency.”

  “You’re not human.” His face was impassive. He’d blocked off the link between them, giving her no idea how he felt.

  Until now, she hadn’t realized just how easily she’d come to accept that connection to him as a kind of additional sense, something she took for granted
, like her sight. Now that the connection was gone, she felt . . . lonely.

  “You know what I mean,” she said.

  “Apparently not. You’re the one who wants to walk away from our partnership. You asked for space, and now that I’m trying to give it to you, you’re angry. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  She had no answers. The things she wanted were not things he could give her. She wanted guarantees—a promise that he wouldn’t die and leave her floundering the way she had when Mom had died, when Nana had died. She couldn’t go through that again.

  But she couldn’t stand to let him walk away either, knowing that he would be so much safer with her at his side—with her power there to take out anything that tried to hurt him. She wasn’t very strong yet, but she was stronger now than she had been a few hours ago. The time she’d spent in his arms had somehow widened their connection, allowing the space for more energy to flow through. She could feel it humming there, churning with anticipation for her to make use of it.

  Strength hovered at her fingertips, making her crave it. She was tired of being a victim, tired of being scared to get so much as a paper cut. Cain made her stronger and gave her a fighting chance. She was pretty sure that was the best deal she was going to get in this lifetime.

  “Take me with you,” she said. “Show me how to fight.”

  He stared at her for a long time, and she wished he would let her take a peek behind the curtain, just for a second. She didn’t like being on the outside like this—like everyone else—alone and wondering what was going on in his head.

  Finally, without any hint of how he felt, he said, “Get dressed. I won’t wait long.”

  Chapter 22

  Cain knew that he was manipulating Rory, and that it was wrong, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He knew how much she hated feeling weak. Her strength and independence meant everything to her, and yet here he was, tempting her with one in order to rob her of the other.

  He tried to assuage his guilt by telling himself that it was his duty to keep fighting, and he could only continue to do so if Rory stayed at his side. But while factually correct, his efforts to tie her to him were still a type of deception. And if he let down his guard and allowed her to peer into his thoughts, she would see it, glaring with guilt.

  So he did the only thing he could think to do: he kept his mind closed to her and took her outside, in the field behind the Gerai house.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “You said you wanted to learn how to fight.”

  “I do, but I need a real fight—nothing huge or overwhelming, but more than an evil clump of weeds.”

  “You really think I’m going to purposefully drag you into battle when you’ve barely learned anything? It’s bad enough that you were subjected to it accidentally.”

  “I’ll learn on the fly. I think fast on my feet. I never would have survived two days locked in a basement full of monsters if that weren’t the case.”

  He couldn’t stop the growl that emanated from his chest at the picture she painted.

  “It’s no big deal. Not my idea of a primo vacation spot or anything, but let’s just say that it proved to me that I’m at my best when the shit hits the fan.”

  “I’d rather not prove your theory wrong the hard way.”

  She let out a weary sigh. “So you’re not taking me to really fight. I’m stuck with defeating evil weeds?”

  “For now. When I’m sure you’re ready, then we’ll move up the food chain. Maybe defeat a malevolent bush.”

  “And just hope that the demon-in-the-box stays put.” She propped her hand on her hip, bringing his attention to the deep curve of her waist.

  Cain knew just how that skin felt under his hand, against his tongue. His mouth watered with the memory, making him wish he could march her back up to bed and keep her there for a year or two.

  “I will kill the demon, but you’re not ready for that kind of fight. Not yet.”

  “And what if we run out of time?”

  “Then I will subdue you.”

  “Before I managed to kill you first with my magical firepower?”

  He shrugged, refusing to let her see how much he hated letting that creature linger within her. “If you kill me, you’ll have no more power. You’ll be as much of a threat as any normal human woman would be.”

  “Clearly, you’ve never heard of PMS or you’d be more afraid.”

  “I’m not taking you into combat until you prove you’re ready.”

  “Fine. Test me.”

  Before she had time to sense what he was doing, Cain drew his sword and sent it swinging toward her head. He had no intention of hurting her, but she wouldn’t know that. Just before he slowed the blow, a hot blue dome of light spilled down over her body. His sword skittered off the shield, throwing him off balance.

  “Good.”

  She grinned, and her dark eyes twinkled with excitement. “Easy. Try again.”

  He kicked his leg out, sweeping her ankles. She began to fall, but it turned into a gravity-defying spin that landed her on her feet a few yards away.

  Cain nodded his approval. “Your self-defense is decent, but there’s only so much I can do to you without risking damage. What I really need to know is how much firepower you have.”

  “Give me something to destroy. A target—any target.”

  He pointed toward the eastern edge of the clearing to where a dead tree leaned precariously to one side. “There. That tree.”

  She pushed her chin in the air and started walking toward it. Cain grabbed her arm.

  “No. From here.”

  Her confident posture wobbled, but her jaw took on a defiant stance. “If I do it, will you take me with you to go hunt the demon?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Whether or not you’re still standing. You’re no good in a fight if I have to carry you.”

  She pulled her arm away and gave him a hard stare. “No one has needed to carry me since I was a child. At least not until the night I met you.”

  “Are you saying I made you weak?” Cain sent a bubble of energy through the luceria, reminding her that without him, she would have no power.

  She shivered, but hid it quickly. Once again her jaw was tight with defiance, forcing her words through gritted teeth. “I’m not weak.”

  “Prove it.”

  He felt a sucking rush of power flow out of him with so much force it shook his frame. As the transfer occurred, a flicker of her emotions appeared, churning just beyond reach. She was furious that he doubted her. Terrified that she would fail. Determined to prove her strength.

  A ragged scream poured from her mouth. Her fingers extended toward the tree as if she were throwing something at it. A second later, a whoosh of flames engulfed the trunk, turning it to ash within seconds.

  Rory fell to her knees. Cain panicked and reached for her, but she jerked away. “Don’t.”

  She panted there on the cold ground, holding herself up with her hands. Her body swayed, and it was all he could do not to reach out and steady her.

  Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. She stumbled to the side, but caught her balance before he was forced to grab her.

  Her feet were braced apart. Her skin was ghostly pale. Both of her hands burned bright red with smudges of soot at the tips. She glared at him, daring him to make the wrong move.

  “There,” she said. “Now let’s go.”

  Cain hated himself for what he was about to do, but if she refused to acknowledge her limits, then it was his duty to force her to hit them. Hard.

  “Sure,” he said. “Let’s get in the car.”

  He started walking, and it took every bit of willpower he possessed not to turn around and help. He was halfway back to the house when he heard her hit the ground.

  Cain stopped. He knew he should keep walking and prove to her that she wasn’t as tough as she thought, but he couldn’t leave her lying there or force her to crawl
like some kind of beast. She needed him, and whether or not she accepted that fact, it was still a fact. Just like he needed her.

  He turned and saw her trying to regain her feet. Her pink hair whipped around her face with the wind, giving him fleeting glimpses of her pained defeat.

  He stopped in front of her. She stared at his boots, her arms shaking so hard he wasn’t sure how she held herself up. She wouldn’t lift her gaze any higher, as if she was embarrassed.

  Cain crouched by her side, and tucked her hair behind her ear to keep it out of her eyes. Tears glittered there but did not fall—apparently held back by sheer will. Her bottom lip was wedged between her teeth so tightly he feared she’d draw blood.

  He said nothing as he waited there, warring with himself over whether or not to touch her. The next move was hers, and it was not one he could make for her.

  “Fire is hard,” she finally said.

  “Looks like.”

  “I really suck at this, don’t I?”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I saw those women in your memories. I saw what they can do. They could go all day and hardly break a sweat. I burn down one dead tree and I’m about to fall over.”

  “So what do you want to do now?”

  “You think I should quit, don’t you?” Her voice was as cold and biting as the wind. “You think I should just sit around and wait for the big, manly men to save me.”

  “You know me. You’ve been inside my thoughts. Is that really what you think I think?”

  Her gaze met his, and he saw fear lurking there. And shame. “No,” she admitted. “I saw the things you want from me.”

  “And?”

  “They’re not the kind of things a weakling princess in need of a rescue would do.”

  “Which brings us back to my previous question. What do you want to do now?”

  She bared her teeth at him, and damn if it didn’t turn him on, just a little. “I want to be strong enough to fight, Cain. I want to get up off this freezing fucking ground and blow the hell out of some demons.”