“Is Kelan about?” he asked.
Her gaze lifted to his. “He saddled his horse and rode out hours ago to goodness knows where. He seldom offers details of where he goes or what he does and I don’t ask.”
“Have you not been getting on?”
“He’s been a perfect host,” she said quickly, not willing to admit she found Kelan McAllister a little daunting. She wasn’t accustomed to a man filling a room quite as much as he did whenever he stepped inside. He certainly unsettled her. “The thing is, he always has much to say on whichever topic I broach, but he doesn’t actually ever divulge…anything…”
She forgot what she was saying as Greyston moved closer, and closer, until they were standing toe to toe.
He no longer appeared to be listening anyway.
His eyes were on her mouth and his hand came beneath her chin, tilting her face up to him. Bristles shaded the hollow of his jaw, giving him an even leaner, harder look than normal.
Her breath was suddenly shallow and her pulse tingled at the thought of the kiss that wouldn’t come. They’d been here before, more than once. Perhaps it was some sort of primal male game, she wouldn’t know. The few men, boys, really, who’d stolen a brief kiss couldn’t possibly compare to— Oh! His mouth was on hers, wide, firm lips moulding hers, caressing, teasing, sending whorls of languid heat rolling down her spine. He slid his hand from her chin, fingers scraping through her hair to cup the back of her head. His other arm came around her waist, pulling her up against the solid warmth of his chest.
Instinct took over and her mouth moved with his. Her lips parted and his tongue darted inside to stroke and play. The intimate joining pulsed hot sensations through her veins, thickening her blood and melting her at the corners.
She groaned softly when his mouth left hers. She’d have been quite content to stay right there forever, wrapped in his arms, intimately invaded with his taste, his scent, his being.
“I was going to say how beautiful you are.” He linked one hand in hers, their fingers intertwined, before he stepped back. “I was going to tell you how the thought of your kisses has been driving me slowly mad.”
Her stomach dipped. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” He guided her beneath the bough, his hand settling on the small of her back to usher her ahead of him down the narrow trail. “I was supposed to tell you all that before I kissed you. I did everything back to front.”
She glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. “I’m not complaining.”
“Your expectations weren’t all that high to begin with,” he remarked. “You think I’m an uncivilised Scotsman.”
“I said no such thing,” she blurted.
“Not in as few words,” he agreed. “An uncouth lout impersonating a gentleman, I believe.”
Her foot came down wrong and she staggered. That might have been the ditch she’d stepped into, or her mortification. “You threw a dagger at me.”
“I’m not disputing your right to that opinion.” The glint in his eye was as devilish as his grin. “Merely hoping to improve upon it.”
She rather liked him just the way he was. And therein lay the problem. She looked forward again to navigate the uneven ground, immediately irritated at enjoying that kiss so thoroughly.
There was no future for them.
Any comfort she’d taken from being wrapped in his strong arms, any sense of belonging she’d found, was deceptive. She should know better. She did know better.
Greyston didn’t fit into a normal, peaceful life. Not in London, not anywhere else. He would always be the wild predator, prowling the edges, seeking an opportunity to escape, to run as fast and far as he always had.
She kept a few paces ahead of him. They walked in silence, Greyston apparently lost in thought and as for herself, she was lost in regret—no, she refused to regret that kiss. After the handful of half-hearted attempts she’d experienced, kissing a man such as Greyston was a revelation.
At the end of the dirt trail, she batted aside the last cluster of overgrown bush and stepped onto the stone path. Greyston was right behind her. They hadn’t gone much further when she heard loud rustling to her left.
She froze, peering into the dense shrubbery that stretched from the perimeter wall and down the slope. Greyston must have heard it too. He grabbed her hand, tugging her to the other side of him and walking faster.
“It’s probably just the wind,” she said, but her voice was a whisper and her skin prickled.
“A squirrel, or a bird.” He didn’t slow his step.
We’re both paranoid. And while they’d certainly earned the right to a little paranoia, she felt the warning in her bones.
The almost imperceptible charge in the air.
The subtle scent of danger.
She glanced back and saw the bush shiver.
“Run,” hissed Greyston.
Lily grabbed a fistful of skirt, had just hiked the hem clear off the ground, when Greyston pushed her against the wall. It took her a second to realise they weren’t running. They were at the gate to the garden enclosure of the old castle. The chain hadn’t been repaired, but someone had looped it through the bars to secure the gate.
Metal rattled as Greyston yanked at the chain. Her heart hammered in her throat and her gaze flew over his crouched shoulder.
Lady Ostrich emerged from the bushes and onto the stone path. Dressed in amethyst from head to toe with the trademark plume pinned to her hair, there was no mistaking the demon that stood less than ten yards from them. Her eyes were silver ice and trained on Lily.
Icicles crackled deep inside Lily’s lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Her muscles froze over like glacier sheets. She couldn’t move.
Greyston kicked the gate inwards and shoved her through the sludgy resistance. The ice stayed behind. She could breathe again, move, but her reactions were too retarded to stop her fall as her skirt caught around her ankles and sent her toppling to the ground. Greyston came sprawling on top of her, his weight flattening her for the briefest moment before he rolled aside on a curse.
Lily flipped over and once again her eyes connected with that fatal silver stare. Elbows and heels digging in the ground, she squiggled backward and then her entire body went slack as Lady Ostrich tried to enter the enclosure at a fast stride and bounced off the invisible barrier.
“I’ll be damned,” Greyston muttered through a ragged breath, on his feet and holding a hand out to her. “It actually works.”
Lily waved his hand away. “Give me a minute.” Her legs were jelly. If she stood now, she’d wobble right over.
Lady Ostrich rushed the entrance again, the classical features of her face distorted with rage, hands raised and bolts of white fire shooting from her fingertips. The fire hit the shield in a spray of sparks that fizzled into nothing.
The demon couldn’t enter. Her powers couldn’t penetrate the barrier.
“How exceedingly clever,” Lady Ostrich snarled. “So, this is how you’ve been hiding.”
Hiding, crawling, grovelling, dying. Hadn’t she decided not to do that anymore? Lily jumped to her feet and backed away from the entrance, calling Greyston with her. But it was a strategic retreat. “The lake is filled with sea water.”
Greyston looked at the man-made lake, frowning. “The water is pumped directly from the Tay. Neco followed the underground pipe to where it opens into the bay below.”
“Kelan said…” She walked around the pump house and unlatched the wooden door. “Ah, yes.” She reached for the steel bucket triumphantly.
Greyston moved in front of her and grabbed the handle. “Do you think you can distract her?”
Lady Ostrich was jabbing, prodding, punching and firing at the empty space she couldn’t pass through. She kept glancing their way, however. Had she seen the bucket? Did she know the lake was filled with demon poison? There’s only one way to find out.
“Just be quick.” Heart pounding, she marched back across
the courtyard and stopped as close to the entrance as she dared. “You’ll never get inside,” she taunted, not quite as confident as she sounded. How strong was Kelan’s barrier? How long could it withstand the demon’s pounding?
“If you can do it, so can I,” Lady Ostrich said. She slammed a ball of fire at the shield again and hissed at the shattering sparks. Her gaze went over the top of Lily’s head to Greyston.
Why the blazes did the demon lady have to be so tall? “The ore in the soil interferes with the barrier and weakens the resistance,” she said desperately. “The trick is to breach the power along the bottom.”
Lady Ostrich didn’t drop to her knees, but her eyes turned down and then she bent a little to prod the lower air. She flicked her fingers and a volley of white bolts hit and spluttered an inch above the ground.
“Move,” came the command at Lily’s ear and she lunged left.
Greyston tossed the entire bucket with its contents. Lady Ostrich was already leaping out of the way, her hands raised as if to protect herself from the deadly salt water. But not protecting. A wave of white fire engulfed the bucket, turning steel molten red and instantaneously combusting every last drop of liquid to harmless vapour.
Lily speared her fingers through her hair, pressing the ball of her palms to the throb at her temples, and stared in horror. They’d never beat this thing.
“Now, now, that wasn’t very nice,” tittered Lady Ostrich, fluffing her feather straight as she raised a brow at Greyston. “There’s no need to bring out the artillery when all I’ve come for is a heart to heart chat.”
“So you keep saying,” Greyston said, his voice low and stiff. “Right before you destroy everything in your path.”
“Don’t be petty,” she said, sounding rather irritable.
“Is that what they’re calling cold-blooded murder downstairs nowadays? Petty crime?”
“It’s the human girl, isn’t it?” Lady Ostrich directed that piercing silver gaze at Lily for a long moment, then looked back to Greyston. “You’ve developed an infatuation.” She shrugged. “Well, no harm done, Raimlas. I promise I’ll try not to accidentally snap her stringy neck again.”
“What did you call me?” Greyston said hoarsely.
1685. The tenth of September. The church declared the entire village had been possessed by demons. It was only one demon and its name is Raimlas. Fury gathered inside Lily, a dense mist seeping through flesh, muscle, veins and bone. There was no place within her left untouched.
Her hand shot out and found Greyston’s arm. She gripped tightly. “It’s playing with you.”
It. Always objectify a demon, Kelan had taught her. She’d struggled to get her mind around that, looking at a woman and thinking of an it. Not anymore.
Lady Ostrich’s eyes narrowed on Greyston with intense concentration. “Damn this shield, I can’t see a thing. Step outside. Come to me.”
“It’s an animal,” Lily said quietly. “Don’t listen, Greyston.” She dragged him back a step, and another, putting distance between them and the demon’s mesmerising influence. “It will do anything to lure you into its trap.”
She wouldn’t have been able to budge him if he wasn’t willing. But he was, despite the loss of colour to his face and the glazed look in his eyes, he seemed to shake loose the demon’s words and then he was the one pulling her toward the lake. “What the bloody hell do we do now?”
She took her hand from his and wrapped her arms around her waist. “We wait? Neco will come looking—” she cut off as she remembered why that would be a catastrophe. “Perhaps Kelan has returned.”
“What if she gets bored and takes a stroll up to the top of the cliff while we’re waiting? The Red Hawk won’t stand a chance. I can’t risk all those lives and I can’t risk taking you back in time.” He scrubbed at his jaw. “That’ll put Lady Ostrich between you and Cragloden and I don’t want you near the Red Hawk, not when I can’t be sure we’ll get her safely launched before Lady Ostrich strikes.”
“I have an idea.” Lily paced a short distance, bent double as she searched the ground and collected a couple of stones that looked perfect for the job. When she came up, she found Greyston right behind her. She showed him the assortment of grainy coloured stones. “Most of the rock in this area is limestone with sedimentary layers of plant and animal fossils.”
He looked at her as if she’d finally lost her mind.
She rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think I’ve been doing these last three days?”
“Studying rocks?”
“Studying, certainly.” Kelan’s favourite lesson was ‘be prepared to be unprepared.’ She tested each stone on a flat rock until she found one soft enough to scratch a yellowish line on the surface. Pressing down firmly, she etched the linked triangles bounded by a circle. Excitement whipped through her.
“I recognise that,” Greyston said, peering over her shoulder.
“The rune to bind and keep,” she murmured. “It’s the same rune carved into the laboratory floor.”
She’d done it. Kelan had stressed she wasn’t to attempt putting theory to practice, that she wasn’t ready, but he didn’t know about Greyston’s ability to buy her the extra seconds she needed to draw the rune.
Clutching the precious stone in her hand, she straightened and faced Greyston. “To bind and keep a demon, rendering it powerless within the circle while we banish it.”
“That’s what the rune’s supposed to bind and keep?” Greyston shook his head. “Why would they have that inside the laboratory?”
Lily didn’t care about the why right now. “We know the exact spot Lady Ostrich came through the bushes. If you rewind time just long enough for me to draw the rune on the path, the demon won’t see that it’s stepping into the circle. We can put an end to Lady Ostrich.”
Greyston looked far from enthusiastic, but they were out of choices. They discussed the plan a little more and then he took her hand in his and closed his eyes. “Ready?”
“I’m ready.” She’d have less than two minutes to draw the rune and run back here to safety. He’d wanted to give her more time, but Lily was worried about cause and effect. They didn’t know how the demon tracked them, whether it somehow had their scent, as Kelan had suggested. The longer they were out of place from their original positions, the more could change and Lady Ostrich stepping onto the path at a different spot would be disastrous.
Chapter Nineteen
Greyston led the way in a flat-out run down the last stretch of the path to make up the minutes between where he’d taken them back to and what Lily required to draw the rune. He crashed through the foliage hanging over the end of the trail and held the branches aside. Lily stumbled into his arms in a breathless tumble.
He steadied her. “Where’s the stone?”
“Right here,” she panted, showing him her fist as she grabbed precious seconds to suck in air. “Okay, let’s go.”
The bush they’d pin-pointed was about ten yards from the gate and he wasn’t happy about leaving her there while he sprinted the short distance. Not with Lady Ostrich approaching from the forest, God knew how far or near. He was at the gate, pulling at the chains. His skin prickled. What if she was already here? What if she’d been right behind that bush all along, waiting as they’d walked past the first time? His gaze flew over his shoulder. Lily was on her haunches, one hand pressed to the ground for support as she leaned forward to draw.
They hadn’t thought this plan through properly. He should never have agreed to it. He wouldn’t have, if he’d been thinking straight. If the bloody demon’s words weren’t taunting him. Raimlas. And that reference to snapping Lily’s neck.
The chain came loose. He shoved the gate wide open and ran back to Lily. It wasn’t just the demon’s barbs bothering him either, but he couldn’t define the itch in his brain, couldn’t see where to scratch.
Lily had finished the circle and was rubbing the stone over and over to thicken the pale yellow line where the circumfere
nce only faintly touched the angular points of the inner triangles. Just when he thought she was done, she started on an elliptical shape within the smallest triangle that looked like an eye.
Finally, she sprang up and tossed the stone aside.
He glanced over the rough drawing. He did not have a good feeling about this. “Are you done?”
“Blood.” They were speaking in whispers, keenly aware of the encroaching demon. “Drops of blood to seal the lines.”
He slid his dagger from his boot, held his palm taut and sliced the sharp blade along the fleshy part. A line of blood welled and he moved his hand over the rune. At the last moment, he shook his hand away, splattering the blood outside the circle. “Kelan said something about ‘pure’ blood.” His eyes met hers. “What does that mean?”
“Clean? Holy? I don’t know. We never got that far.”
He swallowed back a string of curses. Dammit all. Pure. Holy. Demons. His thoughts turned to ancient rituals and sacrificial virgins. His jaw clenched at the preposterous notion. But it didn’t matter. Whatever the context, Lily’s blood would be purer. He didn’t trust his own. He hadn’t felt pure a single day in his entire life. “Lily, we should use your blood.”
“If you think so.” She held her hand out, fingers trembling.
He took hold of her wrist, pressed the blade flat over her palm, and hesitated. He’d promised to protect, not hurt. How was he supposed to cut her?
The unmistakeable crunch of dried leaves shattered the silence.
Lily bit down on her lip, winced, and then, before he realised what she was about, snapped her fingers into a tight fist over the blade. Her fist opened. The blade hadn’t cut her palm, but the tip had pierced deeply into the pad of her thumb. She went down so the blood could flow from the wound onto the line of one of the yellow markings.
He allowed three drops. His hands came around her waist, swinging her into his arms as he lunged backward with giant steps. The bush shivered, branches parted and Lady Ostrich pushed through the dense shrubbery. Lily held on tight, her arms wrapped around his neck. Greyston kept going, his gaze bouncing between the demon and the blood-sealed circle she stepped into.
A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (Dark Matters) Page 23