by Lexi Ostrow
“Yes, I know that we’ve had this conversation before, or that one.”
He scoffed as he put together her meaning, and she watched as his fists clenched at his side, pushing his chin up ever so slightly. She wondered if he knew how pompous he looked when riled.
“So you are implying I fight out of fear?”
She nodded.
“Ridiculous! Impossible! N'est-elle pas comprendre combats en solo?”
His voice was low, but the anger and annoyance were easy to read. Odette had only caught a few words, but could infer he thought she was off the mark.
“If you are going to behave that way, I would believe that you should do it in English so that I can follow.”
“I would think that you would have been schooled in French!” His face was so close to hers that she was torn betwixt the urge to kiss him and the urge to find out what was going on. His face lowered and for a moment, and she almost brought her lips to his.
“Do not use passion to avoid this, Philippe.” She took two steps backwards to put some space betwixt them.
“Mon Dieu! Fine, I said that you are ridiculous, impossible. Do you not understand that I hunt alone? How could I do that if I were afraid of the demons?”
“Simple. Your fear drives you. Why do you hunt alone? I don’t know, you didn’t answer.” She kept her voice level, calm. She needed to diffuse the situation if she was going to convince him to answer.
Slowly, his anger dissipated and his shoulders slouched. He gazed out over the barren terrain but said nothing to her at first. “Do you remember that I told you Lucius is allowed to work with us due to a council ruling?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand the relevance.”
“That evening he attacked everyone in the council chamber.” She gasped, but he cleared his throat and continued. “It was provoked, and much to my dismay, deserved. But Lucius isn’t the most physical, and he had demon chains on. He attacked with his powers.”
She knew where the conversation was going, and she closed the space betwixt, gently laying a hand on his arm.
“He showed us our greatest fear. Mine was failing to protect Kellan. I won’t ever admit it to him, but he is a brother to me. He may be one of the best we have, but he is young and impetuous. Lucius showed me a scene where Kellan chased after a demon and was instantly impaled.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose. “So why do I hunt alone? Because I do not want to have to worry about saving someone other than myself. I am a killer, a soldier, a hunter. I am not a protector.” Without warning, he tugged his arm from her hold. “Just look at what happened to you.”
“Philippe, it wasn’t your fault. We both went into the alley. You were only supposed to see to it that I did nothing off kilter, not protect me.”
“In those moments, you were my partner, and hunters protect their partners.”
He started walking again, and she felt her heart break for him. They were so different, and yet, so alike. She hadn’t wanted him around because she wasn’t interested in ever seeing another man lying dead from a demon attack. Yet, there they were, so close to one another, but separated by yards of circumstance.
He hadn’t stopped walking, and she hadn’t started, which meant she would have to chase after him though her body still tensed in pain with every step. Silently, she continued, wincing with every step until she caught up with him.
“I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But you…this…is a prime reason why I will never hunt with a partner again. I can protect myself or die without guilt. I cannot do the same for a partner.”
There was no changing the damage Lucius had done, and she wondered if Philippe had been aware of his fear from the days serving the French crown, or if he only feared losing to the demons. She itched to push the subject further, but after almost losing him in the crash, she was hesitant to do anything that might jeopardize things betwixt them. He wanted a clear head going in to get the flower, and if she pushed him, she could be damning herself. So she let it go.
“How long have we been gone? The sky is changing colors, and we need to be careful. The mountain is so much closer now than it was before.”
He laughed bitterly but didn’t respond, just held up his cracked black watch. The front was completely missing, and Odette could see that both the timepiece and the crystal hidden beneath had fallen out.
She pulled her watch from her pocket and sighed in relief. It was dented, but as with her gun, no sound came from it when she shook it. It worked, which meant they could possibly enter the cave safely, aware if a demon lurked nearby.
She looked at the piece and frowned, no wonder her body was in pain. They’d left the others almost three hours before. A small buzz had her thinking the watch was indicating a demon. When she spotted a fly next to her, she frowned as a new concept hit her.
“Should we discuss the problem that if we bring my watch into the cave, it will blow our location should it sense a demon whilst we hide?” She crashed into his broad back and flinched as pain traveled through her body.
“I was thinking of that, actually. I believe we need to leave yours behind.”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Mon Dieu! Be responsible, female. You, yourself, pointed out the problem.”
Arms crossed over her chest, she glared at him. She wasn’t certain if he truly didn’t understand the problem with what he proposed, or if the man who lit her soul on fire was capable of utter emotionlessness on a hunt. “What about the issue of the others spotting the watch and thinking we’ve been captured or killed?”
Philippe shook his head and started walking again. “Then what about breaking it?”
“Oh yes, splendid. I see my father very much appreciating us destroying one of the impossible to mine crystals as they come from the Angels!” she raised her voice to a shout on the last part.
He whipped his head back to her, his dark eyes on fire. “Would you zip your lip? Do you want to alert every possible dweller on this ground space that people are approaching?”
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Philippe was right. Speaking, in general, was a problem. Shouting was madness.
They walked in silence. Things were tense betwixt them, and she could only pray that there was a way to diffuse it. He was a ticking time bomb, and she’d bet it was due to making him think about how he had failed to protect her.
How am I going to fix this? We are so close to the place where the cave should be.
What had been a relatively flat space with rocks jutting out had grown to loom over them. The mountain was growing closer and closer. Small white caps indicated it was cold enough to snow up top. She momentarily smiled at the irony that the entrance to Hell, a place supposedly drenched in fire, could be covered in snow as well.
The landscape around them was barren, be it due to the demons of atmospheric conditions, she didn’t know. Chills spread through her at the idea of how many demons could be running amuck. They hadn’t passed any other humans or any other signs of life aside from some birds of prey flying overhead. She had sworn one circled above their heads and fear had laced around her. The pain was slowly growing more severe the longer they walked, and when her eyes became fuzzy with effort, she knew it was more than she was able to handle.
“Philippe, I must stop.”
“Odette, we can see the base of the mountain.”
“Precisely. I healed your hand. I didn’t heal my head or my other injuries. I do not think going in injured to face demons that may or may not be waiting for humans to arrive is smart. Plus, you heard my fa—Master Agardawes, we aren’t to go in at night. If we walk much farther, night will fall, and we will be forced to sleep that much closer to the demons.”
He grumbled but paused, then walked over to her. She wasn’t certain what he was going to do, but when he gently brushed a kiss over the bandage on her face, she felt affection stem inside her again. There was chemistry be
twixt them, both for annoyance and lust. Yet, there was also a concern for one another that went beyond bedplay, and she had a pretty good feeling everyone in their traveling party knew it. They were thinly veiling their emotions, and hunters were perceptive. They all knew. All that was left was for them to say it.
She looked into his eyes and smiled. He was so like her Shawn and so different. He made her hot and cold, far better than her former husband had. He pushed her to new heights, instead of pleading with her to come down off the cliff.
“Philippe, I am certain, being a man of your credentials, you’ve already picked up on this. However, we may be walking to the location where you must kill me, or where demons will kill us.” He growled, and she felt her feelings for him grow just a little bit stronger, knowing how he felt towards the possibility of her death. “This needs to be said, and I need you to not be a coldhearted hunter and push me away or tell me to stop.”
“I don’t do those things.”
She arched a brow, and he smiled awkwardly.
“To you.”
She’d wanted to sound strong and confident, like the hunter he must be attracted to in her, but her voice was barely above a whisper when the words came out. “I don’t want the memory of my dead husband to get in the way of us anymore.”
Time stood still as he stared at her. Nothing in him changed; no smile spread across his lips, no indication of any sort that he had even heard her.
“Philippe?”
“I don’t do females during hunts.” His voice was stony, and anger flared up so quickly, there had been no time to stop herself from lashing out.
“Is that what I am to you?” She extended her finger and poked him in the chest repeatedly as she took continual steps forward, forcing him to take steps back. “Just a female you got stuck protecting and failed at that, so now you’ve come along on a life-altering mission to save her so your previous reputation as top demon hunter can remain intact?” She couldn’t hear anything, anger buzzed in her ears like a swarm of bees. “So you screw me, not because you wanted to, but because your charge asked you to make her feel better? You embraced me during the crash, I thought we would not live through because it would allow you to protect me?”
“You know that’s not true.” He was as angry as she was—again.
“Then tell me what is true, because I do not feel like being toyed with right now, Mr. Clemis.”
He frowned at the use of his surname, and some of her anger quelled—he liked their familiarity. Her words had been like a slap, which meant he was pushing her away for no reason, other than to help them.
“God damn!” His hands flew out to her but stopped at the last second as if he remembered how much pain she was in. His mouth hung open, and his chest moved up and down with every breath.
“This is the part where you answer my question.”
“If I answer, will you let it drop, so we can make sure your arse survives?”
“Absolutely.”
His hands never touched her, but his mouth captured hers. They stood, connected as both his passion and anger seeped into their kiss. It was demanding. Powerful. Consuming. Every thought, but being kissed by Philippe, fled from her. Her body cried out with desire, and she didn’t think as she stepped closer, wanting to feel his body on hers.
Pain speared through her, and she cried out and pulled away.
Concern was etched in every line on his face, but he still did not touch her. “Odette?”
“I need to try to heal myself. It’s been hours since I helped you. Perhaps I’m resilient enough.” She wanted to comment on how a kiss only implied that he was attracted to her physically, but a wave of pain, so strong it almost knocked her to the ground, washed over her and she swayed.
“Do it.” He took her hand and slowly lowered himself to the ground, allowing her to sit. “Lay down, Odette. Put your head in my lap. I have you.”
She wanted to argue with him, but the idea of his arms holding her whilst she accessed a part of herself she hated was comforting. White flashed across her eyes as she gently tipped, lowered her back to the ground and placed her head on his lap. He stroked her hair, and even through the pain, she wanted to tell him she knew the words he wouldn’t say. As carefully as a lover, he untied the bandage and set it aside, most likely so he could see if she succeeded.
He nodded down at her, and she closed her eyes. She thought about being healed, about the pain in her muscles slipping away, the gash over her eye closing. Nothing happened, though. She didn’t feel or see an inner white light, and when she touched her hand to her head, it stung.
“What if I can’t do it?”
“You’re half Pure Angel, possibly the only offspring of a Pure Angel, figure it out. Try harder.” His words were harsh, but his tone was encouraging.
She licked her lips and closed her eyes tighter.
“Mon Dieu! Don’t do that, it’s torture.”
She laughed and cringed. She had walked too far after such an injury. She had been foolish to think because she could walk that she should. Odette forced herself to take three deep breaths before focusing once more on the same images. For moments, nothing happened, and then she felt the strangest sensation. It was as if there were a needle and thread over her eye, knitting the skin together and someone shifting muscles around in her back. Nausea rose in her as the process kept going, and when she finally felt the light within her die down, she opened her eyes.
Philippe’s dark hair hung down and tickled her face, but he was blurry. When she’d healed him, the world had spun and then righted itself. She had a bad feeling it was not going to do so again. A small smile formed on his lips, and she could just barely make it out through the haze.
“You did it, Odette. The wound closed up.”
His hair brushed over her nose, and despite how dizzy she felt, she giggled. “Tie your hair back, it tickles.” She rolled onto her side and gagged as her stomach rebelled, and she felt bile rising in her throat. Not thinking, she swallowed and choked at the taste.
“I think you need to lay down, Odette. I’ve got you. I promise I’ve got you. Just sleep.”
His voice was comforting, and she snuggled into his lap a little more. A part of her wanted to argue, to tell him they could walk a little farther, but her eyes were so heavy with sleep. She simply gave in, but not before she thought she heard Philippe whisper, “I’m falling in love with you.”
The throbbing sensation that woke Odette up hadn’t been in her head; she was still in pain. She groaned slowly as she sat up. The sky was dark, but not pitch black, so morning was coming. Yet thanks to her slow transition into a Kappa blood slave, she could see everything in brilliant detail. Including Philippe lying just next to her. His long hair was tied back, and his face was almost serene in sleep. One hand rested on the ground mere millimeters from her, and she smiled.
She felt a sharp prick on her lower lip. Instinctively, her hand flew to her mouth. The tip of her index finger felt something slippery, and when she pulled it away to look, blood was smeared on her finger. Her breathing ceased, and her hearing caught everything from Philippe’s subtle breathing to the crickets chirping in the early morning.
“No,” horror filled her tone. She slowly raised her hand, leaving it hovering above her lip, afraid to see if the fangs had completely grown in.
“Mmm…Odette?” Philippe’s voice was gravelly, sleepy.
She heard him shift, but her eyes weren’t seeing anything. They’d unfocused in her fear, and all she saw was a blur. Blowing out a deep breath, she slowly moved her finger closer to her mouth and opened wide. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a tear slid out from under her dark lashes.
“No.” A sob tore through the word, and she felt Philippe immediately fly upright.
“Where is it?” panic mixed with sleep in his voice.
She felt more tears fall for the relationship she would mostly likely never have with the man. Her fingers still grazed both fangs, as if she could somehow make them
vanish if she kept touching them, thinking that perhaps she could rub them away as if releasing a Djinn. Another sob broke through the night, and she hung her head, not caring as the warm tears hit the leather pants and ruined them further.
“Odette, what’s wrong?”
His hand brushed the back of her head, and her lip trembled as she tried to control herself. “Fangs.” She turned to look at him, tears blurring her vision. “I have fangs, Philippe.” More tears streaked down her face as she pulled her knees to her chest and rocked herself. “We’re too late. How could this be reversed?”
His hands landed on her shoulders, and he tugged her back, so she leaned against his chest. “You do not get to talk that way. Your father said we had two weeks. We should still have four days left.”
“But these are so definitive, Philippe. It must be too late.” There would be no true way of knowing until a Kappa Demon seized her mind and commanded her to do its bidding. Fangs did certainly feel like proof enough, though.
“Well, shake it off, Cosgrove. You aren’t alone in this, and you don’t get to choose when it’s over. It’s not over until a Kappa controls you. Two weeks passing or not. Do you hear me?”
She heard him, and the fear in his voice, but all she did was nod slowly.
“Good, then stop, ma belle felle, stop giving up. We will fix this.”
She felt his lips press into her hair as he kissed the top of her head, and she bit her lower lip, urging it to stop trembling and the tears to stop falling. Philippe didn’t make a motion for her to move and she didn’t. Not until the sun began to peek up over the tall mountain range. Bright yellow sunlight streamed down and illuminated the desolate valley they had slept in. It was only then that he gently pushed her upright and stood himself.
She sniffled and turned to find his hand outstretched. “When will you learn that I choose to do these things on my own?” She ignored his hand and offered him a shaky smile that he returned.
“Ahh. I just assumed the admittance of feelings for me may have made you pliable.”