Howler's Night

by RS Black

  “Open the drawer and pull out the folder.”

  Reaching over, I pulled open the end table drawer. Inside was a familiar manila folder. “This feels like old times.”

  She sighed. “Well, it’s my parting gift to you.”

  “What is it?” I flipped the envelope around to the front side.

  “Open it up.”

  When I did, I saw only one sheet of paper. It was a print out of a picture of two gorgeous willows twisting out of the side of a massive gray boulder.

  I read the words printed beneath the photo. “The legend of the kissing tree.” I looked at her. “What is this?”

  “That, m’dear, is where you’ll find Asher’s key.”

  My fingers went numb. A part of me wanted to tear out of there and trace to wherever those trees were to find the key. Another part of me wanted to burn the picture and pretend I’d never seen it, never even heard of this kissing tree.

  “How’d you find this? Even Ash didn’t know where the key was hidden.”

  “There are powerful forces at play here, Dora. Very powerful. I was visited by a man you probably know.”

  The way she said it told me immediately to whom she referred. “Death.”

  “The one and only Grim Reaper, aye.” She nodded, gave a slight cough, and took a deep, wheezing breath before giving me a weak smile.

  “When? When did he come here?” I clutched the sheet to my chest.

  “About three months ago. Told me to look into a place called Camelot, Massachusetts, where the willows kiss.”

  “Why would he do that?” I wasn’t really asking Grace, but it bothered me how much of a pawn I felt like lately. Kidnapped, tortured, mind perverted and twisted, and then taken in by a being who’d never in my memory taken sides in the fate of humanity. And yet here he was guiding us all every step of the way.

  She shrugged. “I canna say. Only, I suspect he may be working for the other side.”

  “And what side might that be?” I drummed my fingers on my thigh.

  Grace pointed a finger toward the ceiling and gave me a pointed look.

  My eyes widened. “No.”

  She closed her eyes for a second. “Meh, it’s just a guess, as I said.”

  “So say he is working for”—I cleared my throat, trembling at the very thought of it—“Him, then by coming here and telling you this—”

  “I suspect that yes”—she turned to me—“he intends for you to find the key.”

  I crushed the sheet in my fist. “Then I should leave?”

  Rolling her neck from one side to the other very gently, she nodded. “Aye, but give it a night at least, lass. Rest here, eat, sleep. I’m sure you’re tired.”

  I was tired, exhausted really. But I wasn’t going to tell her that, because closing my eyes didn’t help. The nights were the worst, that’s when the memories came crashing in. That’s when the half-forgotten memories of that lost year haunted me.

  Her finger was a tender glide along my jawline. “You do not look well, demon girl.”

  Dropping my eyelids, I held her hand and shook my head. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I’d cry, so instead I just sat there hunched over her hand, silent and remembering.

  “What did they do to you?”

  “Oh, Grace.” I hiccupped and then sniffed as one hot tear after another burned a trail down my face.

  “I sense great evil in you now, lass.” Her words weren’t sharp or cruel, and yet they pricked my heart like a barb.

  “I’m not the same.” I shook my head. “I don’t think I ever can be.”

  “I suspect I know what they’ve done. They did it once before.”

  I stilled as my gaze shot to hers. “What do you mean?”

  “Before my stroke, I stumbled across a book I’d kept in my library for ages. I’d never read it before, but why would I have? It was a book of alchemy. Just nonsense, or so I thought.”

  I shook my head. “What was it?”

  She wet her cracked lips. Wanting to give her more relief than that, I reached for the glass of water, but she held up a hand.

  “It hurts too much to swallow now, lass.”

  “Then you don’t drink, but you still need to wet your throat.” And so saying, I yanked a small strip off of the end of her gown and dipped it in water.

  She gave me a befuddled look, but didn’t argue when I pressed the soaked rag to her lips. She sighed into the touch and softly suckled on it for a moment.

  “Thank ye.”

  I nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, she continued her story. “It was a hidden text. About the prophecy.”

  My heart gave a painful lurch. There was still so much about this prophecy that we didn’t know. “And? Was it anything new? Anything that could help?”

  Her eyes were sad. “I learned a lot, yes. Back in the sixteen hundreds they found another Nephilim called Aquilla. She looked remarkably like you, and like you, she was also a Lust neph. The Triad took her, they vivisected her, studied her organs while she lay strapped to the stone slab—”

  A wave of sickness washed over me, and I grabbed hold of my stomach as I breathed through the violent onslaught.

  Grace didn’t speak as I dry heaved on the bed, suddenly so grateful I’d not eaten a thing during my four months with Ash.

  Her words brought the images back in bold strokes of vivid color. The feel of hot steel as they’d shoved it through my heart, how my blood had literally churned through my veins. The way they’d opened me up, pulled out my insides and then dipped me in ice until I screamed and cried and pleaded with them to let me go, that I’d give them anything, tell them anything, as long as they just let me go.

  I shuddered.

  She picked up where she left off, offering me no sympathy, for which I was grateful. I was able to hold my pride together because she hadn’t tried to console me with pointless platitudes. Nothing could make it better, or make it go away.

  “Anyway.” She waved her hand. “They tortured her for a year. In that time, they’d stripped her of her demon.”

  “Why?” I swallowed the bile still thick on my tongue. “To what purpose?”

  She shook her head. “As far as I could decipher, they needed to strip her bare to rebuild her. After a year, they let her loose.”

  Something was wrong with the story. “So why have I never heard of Aquilla? Or why hasn’t any of my family, for that matter? If she was around back in the sixteen hundreds, shouldn’t there at least have been rumors of Armageddon?”

  Grace held my gaze for a second before dropping hers. “Because it didn’t take, lass. Aquilla went mad, turning on her captors. She brutally slaughtered them, very nearly wiping out the Order herself.”

  “Wait.” I held up my hand. “You all know how to stop us—it’s not hard with the right knowledge—so why didn’t they—”

  “She was too powerful. Not only had they given her Lust back, but they’d envenomed her with the other six deadly sins.”

  My heart literally skipped a beat. I grabbed my chest as the slithering undulations of extra souls inside me swirled suddenly to life.

  “As they’ve done with you. Haven’t they, Dora?”

  “Why did they do that? Why?” My last “why” trembled, and I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from losing my composure. I reminded myself over and over that Grace was merely the messenger, not the one who’d done this to me, not the one I wanted to kill.

  “Because rather than wait for the prophecy to manifest, they made it happen. Just like they made you happen.”

  I shook my head. “But what if it really is me, Grace? What if this is my destiny? I’m not dead. It took. What if John of Smyrna was right?”

  “No.” Her pencil thin brows lifted high on her forehead.

  “How do you know?” I snarled, clutching the comforter in my fists as the panic and fear began to manifest as more.

  “John of Smyrna is a myth, lass. A legend. He did not exist, and he never wrote tha
t prophecy.”

  “What?” I hissed, feeling as though my thundering pulse would make my eardrums explode.

  “The author wrote it. He wrote it all. John of Smyrna was a fabrication of the Triad, a way to get top level Order members to fall in with their vision. The Order is exactly who we’ve always thought they were. We’ve been duped, we’ve all been lied to.”

  My mouth tasted like cotton. “What’s the Triad, Grace? Who are they?”

  Her blue eyes shone with tears. “They’re demons, lass. High caste lords, and they’ve infiltrated us.”

  “But...but.” I tried to shake the shock loose, but it wasn’t really helping. “But the lords are all locked in Hell.”

  “Aye. Which means they have a middle man. A human who was once mortal.”

  Rubbing my mouth with the back of my hand, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I mean I could. Demons were conniving bastards with silky tongues. They would lie, cheat, steal, and whore—anything it took to get their way. Whoever this man was, they’d probably offered him power, wealth, fame, infamy, whatever he wanted, and in return they owned his soul. Making him their puppet, their whipping post bitch, to do their every bidding, all of it leading toward one inevitable conclusion: their release from Hell and the start of the end of days.

  “So there is no prophecy?” I mumbled.

  “None,” she said firmly. “That means you have a choice, love. This is not destiny. There is will, and you must decide which path you’re on.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The hope that’d blossomed inside me just now was so painful, it twisted my gut into agonizing knots. “But I’m sick, Grace. The voices inside of me, there are so many, and they keep growing louder. I don’t know if I can ignore them.”

  Her grip was strong when she latched onto my hand. “Aquilla.”

  I cocked my head. “What?”

  “Do you know how she died?”

  Of course I didn’t. So rather than ask, I waited.

  “They took them back out. All of them. They strapped her down, and they took the demons out until she became mortal again. That’s how they killed her.”

  It was like someone had just sucker punched me. I could only stare at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed as the possibility of what she was saying opened up before me.

  A world in which I no longer had to battle who I was. A world in which the scariest thing I’d have to deal with would be the eventuality of death at the hands of disease, or age, or some mass murderer. All of which was preferable to the life I knew now.

  “I’ll do it.” I nodded quickly. “I’ll do it. I’ll go back, I’ll fix this.”

  But instead of smiling, she gave me a hard, long look. “But, Dora, think about what you’re saying. Do you realize what you’d be giving up?”

  I shot up off the bed. “I’m a monster, Grace. Look at me.” And in a fit of agony, I yanked Kem’s shirt up over my head, showing her the twisted, macabre creature they’d turned me into.

  She flinched as if I’d slapped her, and I stepped forward, pounding a finger against my temple.

  “I can’t live with this. I can’t. I just can’t. Where’s the book, Grace? I want to read it.”

  She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I don’t know. One morning I went to grab it, and it just...vanished.”

  I wasn’t sure what I might have said after that, but there was a gentle tap on the door and Abel stuck his head inside. The moment he saw me, he dropped his eyes to the floor, cleared his throat, and, with cheeks gone crimson red, whispered, “Dinner’s ready.”

  Chapter 12

  Asher

  Pandora was quiet when she came down to dinner. I kept casting glances at her; it killed me that Grace had kicked me out of the room. Because with one look at my little demon, I could see that whatever they’d been talking about back there had affected her greatly.

  Even Grace wouldn’t look at me. Abel had wheeled her down in a chair, and she sat at the foot of the table, barely picking at her food.

  “You should eat something.” I jerked my head at Pandora’s empty plate.

  Finally she looked up at me, but there was a hollowness to her eyes that worried me. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Fine.” I nodded, set my spoon down, and then grabbed the bottle of dry red wine beside me and poured her a drink. “Then drink this.” I nudged it across to her. “It’s red, your favorite.”

  Her shoulders drooped just a little, and she gave me a small tilt of her lips. It wasn’t much, but I knew she was trying. “Thanks.”

  I’d heard a woman singing in the kitchen for over an hour and suspected our meal of lentil soup and crusty bread was courtesy of a mortal keeping Grace’s home. But Cain had barred the door, and I’d not bothered trying to prove my theory.

  “Well, if you’re not going to drink it,” Adam drawled and reached for the cup just as Pandora did.

  Typical Greed move, but their fingers tipped the stemmed glass over, and the crystal shattered the instant it hit the carved wooden dining room table.

  Muttering under his breath, Adam went to pick up the shards of glass then hissed and drew his hand back.

  A large drop of blood welled on the tip of his thumb.

  And the room went silent.

  Pandora’s eyes jerked to his thumb and instantly I felt the tension rolling off her.

  “Dora?” I murmured low.

  Cain, who sat next to me, went stiff, his hands clenching the silverware until his knuckles turned white.

  Abel, who was sitting beside Dora, wouldn’t take his eyes off the back of her head.

  I slowly got to my feet. “Pandora,” I said again, this time louder. She didn’t stir.

  Adam pulled his thumb toward him, but she latched onto his wrist, and a strange purr rolled through her chest.

  Just then Adam’s blue eyes blazed like hottest flame. His demon was coming alive, and that only seemed to spur Pandora on. Her lips curled into a macabre smile, and she whispered one word.

  “Mine.”

  Then it was chaos. I jumped onto the table as Adam attempted to grab her and shove her face down onto the floor.

  But Dora was nothing but a blur of shadow. In one swift move, she’d clenched her fingers around Adam’s thick neck, digging her claws into the sides and drawing blood as she slammed him down violently on the ground.

  I yanked on her arm just as Cain and Abel reached my side. She shrugged me off like I was nothing, causing me to stumble into the table forcefully. Pandora moved so fast I literally lost track of her. One second she’d been kneeling on Adam’s sternum, the next she was grabbing hold of Cain between the legs, squeezing hard enough to make him roar, then tossing him against the wall.

  Abel and I tackled her from behind at the same time, but she twisted away from us, moving like a snake, always one step out of our grasp. Then a flat palm shoved into my chest, and I was thrown back.

  I jumped immediately to my feet, but she now had Abel, and in a move I’d never seen her use before, she flipped over his shoulder, latching her claws onto either side of his head the moment she landed.

  I knew immediately what she was doing. She was going to decapitate him. I wouldn’t reach her side in time, so I called the gray man to me. Then, closing my eyes, I willed him to pick up the butter knife and stab her with it.

  The gray man shoved it straight through her hand.

  I yanked her into my arms the second she screamed. She stared at her bloody hand in shock and then trembled as her gaze turned to the three men slowly coming to at her feet.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God, I’m so, I’m...sorry.”

  No one had a chance to respond because she traced away from us, the scent of sulfur thick in the air.

  I whirled on a stunned-looking Grace who said, “She can be triggered. Your demon, Adam, it triggered hers.”

  “Fuck,” he groaned and rubbed his head. “I feel like I just took a hammer to the head. What the hell
did they do to her?”

  “I should have realized that.” Grace looked at me, “I’m sorry, Ash.”

  I had no idea what she was apologizing for. I clenched my jaw and swatted her words away. Pandora wasn’t a lost cause, and I refused to let anyone convince me otherwise.

  “Where did she go?” Grace asked no one in particular.

  Adam, Cain, and Abel were growling. The boys’ bodies had thickened and turned twice as muscular as before. That she’d had the power to do that... I shook my head, shoving that thought away.

  “Some place she’ll feel safe and alone. She won’t go far.”

  “How do you know?” Adam growled, and then scowled as he pulled bloody fingers away from his scalp.

  “Because I know. What do you have like that here, Grace?”

  Her hand was shaking as she said, “The springs. Natural springs about half a mile beneath us.”

  I turned and pointed. “Which way?”

  “Straight ahead and to your left,” Abel said. “And if you see her, tell her I don’t think I’ll be forgiving her for this one unless she springs for a box of chocolate chip cookies.” He rubbed his neck, which was already starting to blossom a dark purple color.

  “We’ll need a room too, something far in the back, more cave-like, where she won’t feel so exposed.”

  Cain was wincing and holding onto his genitals. “Take mine. I’m sleeping in Flint’s anyway.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and then went in search of Pandora. This problem was becoming almost more than I could handle alone. As much as I didn’t want to think it, the time might have come to consider bringing Luc and her hoard back into the picture.

  I found Pandora almost twenty minutes later. I felt the smack of the heat wafting off the spring the moment I stepped inside the hulled-out room.

  Pandora’s clothes were scattered on the floor, along with the long-handled silver butter knife. She was fully immersed in the large spring, sitting on the bottom with her head tipped forward and her legs crossed Indian style.

  Sighing, exhausted, but unwilling to leave her alone, I stripped off my clothes and joined her. The calm waters with curls of steam rolling off the surface was almost too hot to bear.