Shades of Wicked

by Jeaniene Frost

  Besides, Ian and I wouldn’t have lasted. He’d said he could have loved me, but “could” and “did” were very far apart. Much like the distance between Ian saying I was his, but not saying that he was mine. He’d ended his life to stop me from making a deal with Dagon, but he’d probably known Dagon would kill him anyway, making his actions as much a “fuck you” to his old nemesis as they were a sacrifice for me.

  In short, if I looked at it coldly, Ian had never promised me anything beyond the moment. Ian reveled in the here and now, and there was value in enjoying that. But I would always want more, and it was no doubt beyond him to give it to me.

  “There is more,” the Warden said. Of course there was, when consequences were the currency. “You are now as vulnerable to death as any vampire.”

  “What?”

  Incredibly, he looked away as if unable to hold my stare. “It was never your power that resurrected you. You do have the ability, but you have not cultivated it. Every time you came back, it was I who raised you. Once word of what I have done here reaches others, I will be removed as Warden and will no longer be able to raise you. Thus, you must take care of your life. You, like Dagon, now only have one of them.”

  It wasn’t hearing about my new mortality that made tears spring to my eyes. It was knowing he had been checking in on me all these years, just in a way I’d never suspected. He’d also admitted that he was sacrificing his position as Warden to do as I’d asked. This wasn’t merely him satisfying a debt I’d forced him to acknowledge. This was much, much more.

  “You do care for me, in your way.” Wonder tinged my voice.

  He looked back at me, that flash of emotion gone and his face the impassive mask I was used to. “Your companion is of Tenoch’s bloodline.” Once again, I was taken aback. He knew Mencheres had sired Ian, and Tenoch had sired Mencheres? “Tenoch could regenerate from a similar state of decomposition. I have activated that same power in your companion. Give him blood, and his body will fully heal within hours instead of weeks.”

  “Thank you, Father,” I said, but found myself speaking to the air. The Warden, his boat, and the river had vanished.

  A soft whine made me turn around. Silver lay next to Ian’s body. He had a paw over Ian’s head as if seeking to protect him from the damage that had already been done to it. The sight was heartbreakingly sweet . . . until I heard what sounded like twigs snapping and Ian’s desiccated arm yanked Silver close. Then the Simargyl screeched as Ian’s bony jaws clamped down on him.

  “No!” I shouted, snatching Silver away.

  Blood dripped from Ian’s fangs. He snapped them at me, trying to tear into any available flesh again. His eyes were sightless, his body was more bones than skin, and his hair had turned pure white. I would have been terrified if I hadn’t seen this sort of thing before. Tenoch could wither until he looked exactly like this. It had been a valuable trick that fooled his enemies into thinking Tenoch was dead when he wasn’t, but it had also left Tenoch mindlessly hungry until he regenerated.

  Now Ian had just gotten a mouthful of Silver’s opiate-equivalent blood. That, plus his ravenous state and gods-only-knew what powers he’d absorbed from Dagon after devouring his way out of the demon, made him dangerous. Worse, it wouldn’t be long until police arrived. All the explosions, even in this remote area, had to have attracted someone’s notice. I had to get Ian secured and away from innocent people, all before he healed enough to realize who the hell I was.

  I couldn’t do this alone. I needed help. Fast.

  I held on to Silver as I ran over and grabbed the heaviest piece of theme-park debris I could carry. Then I dragged it over to Ian, who’d already started to crawl in a mindless search for blood. I dropped it on top of Ian, wincing as I heard bones break. Then, still holding Silver, who wouldn’t stop whimpering, I ran into the mirrored fun house.

  Amid the wreckage, I found the mobile phone Ian had insisted I have in case of emergency. This definitely qualified. I scrolled through the contacts, glad he’d taken the time to fill some of them in. Once I found the name I was looking for, I dialed. Answer, I silently urged when it only rang. Come on!

  “Ian?” a British voice said on the first ring.

  “Tell me you’re still in New Jersey!” I burst out, not bothering to return the greeting.

  “We’re on our way to you,” was the answer I never expected. “Ian rang us from a different mobile half an hour ago and said he needed us. Where is he? And what are the ashes he told us we must recover if we saw them?”

  The burning in my chest had to be my heart splitting apart. After vowing not to involve them because he couldn’t bear to endanger them, Ian must have also called Bones when he went to get Rani and Fenkir’s bodies. He’d made sure someone was coming to help me if the wraith ended up killing us both. Why else would Ian tell them to recover the ashes he knew I’d rise from? If Ian had thought he’d still be alive, too, he could have recovered my ashes himself.

  “Ian needs blood.” My voice was a rasp because my throat just closed off. “Buckets of it. And restraints.”

  “What happened?” Bones asked in an icy tone.

  “I don’t have time to explain.” Damn it, did I hear sirens? How long could I hold off the police? “Just hurry.”

  “With the new stop to get blood, we’ll arrive within two hours,” he said crisply. “And if you’re responsible for what’s happened to Ian, you will regret it.”

  “Good enough,” I replied, and hung up.

  Chapter 46

  An hour and a half later, dawn splashed the darkness with its first bright rays, highlighting the helicopter that had just landed. Bones jumped out, dragging several lengths of thick chains behind him. His brows barely rose at the destruction in the former theme park and the police I’d mesmerized into holding the perimeter, but he gave the skeletons scattered everywhere a longer look.

  “They stink of sulfur,” were his first words. “How many of them were demons?”

  “All of them,” I said, still struggling with the draped form beneath me. I’d frozen time around Ian for an hour, but had run out of strength to hold the spell these past thirty minutes.

  “All?” Bones repeated in disbelief. “Then how—”

  He stopped speaking when I drew back the tarp. Ian’s face was a thing of nightmares, if you didn’t have my unending gratitude that he was still alive.

  Bones stared at him. “Bloody. Fucking. Hell.”

  “Less shock, more chains,” I said wearily. “Don’t let how Ian looks fool you. He’s incredibly strong.” And after everything that had happened, I was running on fumes.

  “What happened?” Thankfully, Bones’s question came with action. He sprang forward, slinging chains around Ian while avoiding the jaws that snapped at him. Once Bones had Ian encased from neck to feet, he picked him up as if he weighed nothing and carried him toward the helicopter.

  “Silver!” I called out. “You can come out now!”

  The Simargyl flew out of the fun house, one wing still bloody from Ian’s fangs snagging it when I’d snatched Silver away from him. He landed right in my arms. Understandably, the events of the past night had left him very shaken.

  “I didn’t know your dog had wings!” a delighted voice called out. Then I saw a flash of drab brown hair as Cat jumped out of the helicopter. “Where did—oh, shit, who’s that?”

  “Ian,” Bones replied shortly. “Open the cooler, Kitten. We’ll need everything in it.”

  I climbed in after Bones, relieved to see vast quantities of bagged blood when Cat opened the cooler in the back. I set Silver safely out of Ian’s reach and grabbed a bag, putting it to Ian’s mouth. He tore into it so ferociously, half of it landed on us.

  “Wait,” Bones said. “I’ll hold him.” His power snapped out, invisible and potent. Ian’s head froze and I emptied the next bag into his mouth without any splatters.

  “What happened?” Cat asked, her head swinging back and forth between Ian, Silver, and the bodi
es outside the helicopter.

  “Demon attack.” Now that we were finally safe, all my weariness hit me, leaving me unable to speak in complete sentences. “Need some bone for weapons, but rest have to go.”

  “Here.” Cat handed me a blood bag, then shoved it back in my face when I pushed it away. “You look terrible, Veritas. Don’t worry. We’ve got plenty for Ian. You can take this one.”

  I took it because I didn’t have the strength to argue. Drinking it made me feel slightly less like I’d pass out. “The bones,” I mumbled again.

  “I’ll take care of them,” Cat said, jumping out after giving Silver a quick pat on the head.

  Bones kept feeding Ian blood bags. Muscle and sinews started slowly reknitting themselves in the glimpses I caught, though Bones’s body blocked most of Ian from my view.

  “How long until he can think normally again?” I asked.

  Bones cast a glance at me. “Is this his first time regenerating? Or has he been hiding this ability from us for a while?”

  “First time,” I replied, leaving it at that.

  “Half a day, at least,” Bones stated.

  I closed my eyes. “Good. That’ll give me enough time.”

  “To do what?”

  I didn’t bother opening my eyes. “Set Ian up the way he last remembers.” It wouldn’t be in Poland, but I could keep the rest of my promise. “I’ll tell you what to say so you can fill in his memory gaps.”

  “What memory gaps? And what about the ashes Ian is so keen that we collect?”

  I ignored the sharpness in Bones’s tone. “Don’t worry about the ashes. All you need to worry about is repeating what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Why don’t you tell Ian yourself?” Instantly.

  I closed my eyes; a reflex against the truth. “He won’t remember me.”

  “What?”

  “Short version is he pissed off the wrong demon and lost his memory of the past few weeks.” Now I opened my eyes so he could see how serious I was. “The demon got away and he’ll be coming for me, so it’s safer for Ian not to remember any of it.”

  Bones’s dark gaze bored into mine. “You don’t intend to even tell him you’re his wife?”

  “No, I don’t!” It flung out of me with all the pain I was fighting not to feel. Then I sighed. “All of you were right. Ian didn’t suddenly fall in love. Circumstances forced us to fake being married. The rumor spread and we used it to our advantage. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure everyone knows it wasn’t real.”

  I’d have to convince Xun Guan and the Enforcers to recant their witness of the ceremony, but I’d faced tougher obstacles. Xun Guan might even be happy to help eradicate my marriage.

  “Who is the demon that did all this?”

  “Dagon.” I hated saying his name, but Bones should know it so he’d know who to watch out for. “My father made it impossible for Dagon to go near Ian without paralyzing pain, but none of you get that safeguard, so watch your backs. Good news is, Dagon’s very weak now. Bad news is, he’ll heal.”

  Bones’s brows went up. “Your father? Who is he?”

  Dammit. I was so exhausted, I’d let that slip. “No one you need to worry about.”

  “Got the cops sweeping up the demon bones!” Cat announced, coming back in the helicopter. “We’ll pick them up after we get Ian and you set up. Then we’ll haul them to a crematorium and incinerate them. Can’t take them now because we don’t have room in the chopper, but we should have it all done by noon.”

  “Good,” I said, closing my eyes again. “Thank you. In the meantime, take Ian to a whorehouse capable of throwing a carnival-themed orgy. Don’t worry, I’m buying.”

  “What?” Cat gasped while Bones said, “Why?” in a steely tone.

  “I made a blood vow.” Now, I didn’t open my eyes because I was afraid they’d see the tears welling in them. “Besides,” I added with a flash of despairing humor, “if Ian does have any memories of the events before these past few weeks, that’s where he’ll expect to be.”

  “What about you?” Bones’s tone was softer. Almost pitying. “What will you do now?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said with a short laugh. Silver came over, putting his head beneath my arm as if to remind me that I wasn’t alone. I petted him as I said in all truthfulness, “I have plenty of things to keep me occupied.”

  Epilogue

  Ian

  Someone needed to stop the bloody hammering or he’d murder whoever was doing it.

  Ian opened one eye, startled to discover the terrible din came from inside his head. He ran his hand along it, feeling for wounds. Then both eyes opened when he felt nothing except the smoothness of his scalp beneath his hair.

  That wasn’t right. He’d been injured . . . hadn’t he?

  “Finally awake,” a familiar voice said.

  Ian turned, seeing Crispin lounging in a chair not far from him. Crispin’s hair was a dreadful shade of dirty blond and he stank as if he’d been swimming in demon sweat. He was clothed, though, while Ian was naked as the day he’d been born. Then giggles drew Ian’s attention to the rest of the room.

  Women naked except for leonine body paint frolicked on the other side of the large area. Men wearing gazelle markings walked past them, avoiding the fire hoops that were in their path, and was that a car full of clowns?

  “Where are we? And what are you doing here?” Ian demanded. “Cat will kill you if she catches you at a bordello.”

  “I’m not the one indulging,” Crispin replied, eyeing him with an intensity that belied his languid tone. “I’m babysitting you after your hangover. Head hurt?”

  “Like the very devil,” Ian moaned, then found himself snapping, “The fire rings are there for a reason, or do none of you have a proper work ethic?” at the next group of painted whores who walked past them.

  Crispin’s brows rose. “Hardly their main performance objective, is it?”

  No, it wasn’t. Why did he care if they jumped through the fire rings? And why did he feel the urge to praise the clowns for showing markedly more enthusiasm for their roles?

  “Don’t bother,” Ian called out when the faux lionesses and gazelles started to line up before the fire hoops. When they took that as an invitation to turn their attentions to him, Ian brushed their hands away. “Start without me. Go, play amongst yourselves.”

  “Something wrong?” Crispin asked, still in that mild tone.

  Yes. Not only did his head ache as if Lucifer’s hammer itself was pounding away at it, he had the near uncontrollable urge to check the back of it for wounds. And why was he utterly uninterested in the erotic spectacle going on in front of him? Not only did he have no desire to join, he could barely be bothered to watch. “How did I get here?” he asked Crispin.

  A dark brow arched. “You don’t remember?”

  He remembered . . . blimey, not much. Had he been upset about something and decided to numb the pain with shagging? That sounded right, but being here somehow felt . . . wrong.

  “What did I tell you about playing amongst yourselves?” he snapped when a faux gazelle and lion crawled forward and began stroking his legs. “Off you go, there’s a good lass and lad.”

  They walked away, pouting. Ian turned to Crispin. “Are you certain I wanted to be here? In truth, I couldn’t be less interested, and look at him.” He shook his cock at Crispin for emphasis. “Limp as a dead snake, he is.”

  Crispin pointedly kept his gaze on Ian’s face. “I can hardly offer my assistance.”

  “Eh, never fancied you that way. Good thing, too, since we turned out to be cousins. In all seriousness, though, Crispin, why am I here, why do you stink like demon, and why does my head feel as though it’s been split open recently?”

  Something filled Crispin’s gaze. Ian’s sense of unease grew. His friend was about to lie to him. Even if he couldn’t see it in Crispin’s gaze, he felt it all the way to his bones.

  “I smell like this because we fought the very brassed-o
ff owner of the Red Dragon source you stole,” Crispin said. “Your recent drinking rampage wasn’t enough, so you stole your own source, drank it until you decided lying about being married was the height of hilarity, then called me when the source’s demon owner came after you. We killed him, you set the source free, and decided to celebrate at this whorehouse. I stayed only to make sure you didn’t do anything else supremely stupid.”

  Crispin was lying. Ian’s surety grew with every merciless hammering in his head. So why did parts of that story feel familiar?

  “This isn’t right,” Ian said aloud. “You’re lying and I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be . . .”

  “Where?” At once, that intentness was back in Crispin’s gaze. “Where are you supposed to be?”

  “You tell me,” Ian snapped. “And where is—”

  He stopped. That sense of wrongness roared to the forefront, growing until Ian got up and began to pace. Something more was going on than Crispin’s lies. He found his hands running over the back of his head again. His hair was white for some reason, but that didn’t concern him as much as searching for wounds that still weren’t there. Why was he so certain they should be? Why did it feel so wrong that he was here with Crispin instead of . . . somewhere else? With someone else?

  “I was about to say a name,” Ian said slowly, “but now I have no idea which one. Why was I about to say a name I suddenly can’t remember? What the hell is going on?”

  Crispin rose, his gaze flicking to the whores Ian had already forgotten about. “Leave,” Crispin told them. “All of you.”

  Déjà vu had Ian whipping around to stare at the whores filing out of the room. This had happened before, but not with Crispin. Someone else. Who? Who?

  A woman’s voice whispered across his mind, her tone more amused than mocking. Are you getting them out of the way because you’re intending to fight me?