Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion)

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  He grabbed the pair of jeans I had tossed atop the laundry hamper the night before and handed them to me.

  I slipped on the pants, dragging the harsh material over the tender spots of burnt flesh—a sheet had covered most of my legs, so little sun reached them, but enough was burned that a yelp left my lips. There was possibly no worse pain than second degree burns. “Okay, and can we maybe get me out of here without toasting the rest of my flesh?”

  When he seemed certain no one else would be leaping into the room, he cleared the distance to the window in a few long strides. He yanked the long, heavy curtain from the rod and threw part of it over the edge of the bed.

  “That should shield you—”

  Just as I was getting out from under the bed, something crashed outside of the bedroom. Feet thumped on the floor, how many I couldn’t say. Without waiting for me to completely stand, Nate wrapped the rest of the curtain around me tightly, lifted me up, and started carrying me from the room.

  I hated that feeling of being unable to do anything. By all rights I should be the one kicking some home-invader-ass. But with the skylights smashed, and people breaking open all my windows, I was vulnerable. It still pissed me off, though. When the opportunity arose later to personally deal with whoever sent the bastards, I would certainly make my feelings known—known in that special, violent way I was so good at.

  Nate fired a few more shots, then the elevator door groaned. Once inside, he put me down so he could shoot at a few more people, then there was a metal-on-metal screech as the door closed and I felt the sensation of movement.

  “They just keep coming,” Nate said. “Waves of them.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you just teleport us?”

  A heavy sigh I heard even with the fucking curtain around me. “Someone disrupted the sigils in the garage. I need a marker.”

  Oh, right. My bad. “So where to?”

  “How about Heaven’s? No windows.”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  The elevator gave a shudder as it reached the bottom floor, and moments later I was being helped through the underground parking garage.

  “Damn, my keys were upstairs,” I reminded him as we stopped at what was presumably my car.

  He didn’t respond—instead I heard glass breaking.

  Oh no. No. “Was that my car window?”

  In answer, he picked me up and laid me on my back inside the vehicle.

  “Nate!” I struggled to sit up and get situated while wrapped in yards of fabric still. “Goddamn it, what are you doing now?”

  “I’m trying to hotwire your car,” he replied calmly. “Though it’s increasingly difficult with you yelling at me.”

  More gunfire sounded. Shattered glass from the rear window hit me. I suppose that meant our pursuers found us. Great.

  Finally he had the car running and it squealed out of the parking spot, thrusting me headfirst into the side door.

  “Ow—watch it!” I tried again to sit; this time a hand shoved my head back down again.

  “Stay down!” Nate ordered as more bullets tore up the rest of my car. Some close-range firing from him followed, and I was tossed around the backseat, eventually landing on the floor. I was stuck there, forced to wait as he swerved through the parking lot while shooting at our assailants. I’d had enough of the searing and blinding pain from my multiple burns bringing tears to my eyes. Not the most enjoyable way to wake up in the morning. Or afternoon. Truth be told, I hadn’t the slightest idea about what time it was, but knowing the hour wasn’t a top priority.

  At last we seemed to hit a smooth stretch of road, and the gunfire ceased. I tried to manoeuvre back onto the seat, but only managed to entwine myself further in the curtain.

  “Are we there yet?”

  “I’m on the phone.” Nate sounded slightly irritated, though it was difficult to tell through the scream of wind rushing through the window-less car.

  “That was Peter,” he shouted over the wind a while later. “He called just when the skylights broke—had to ring him back. He seems to know something, but he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”

  “He can’t meet us today?”

  “I thought we should give it a day for everything to cool down first. Peter will come through, though.”

  “Great,” I muttered, more to myself than him. After much struggling, I finally pulled myself onto the backseat. “So are we there yet?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Enemy of My Enemy

  It took awhile, but at last one of my Are-we-there-yet’s was answered with an exasperated “Yes!” That should teach Nate to stuff me in the backseat while he had the pleasure of gun fighting and speeding.

  Unfortunately, I had to tolerate being carried into the hotel and down the stairs to where Heaven turned out to be looking less than pleased to see us.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as Nate was helping me disentangle myself from the curtain. She appeared even more drained than the previous night and I suspected she still hadn’t slept. The ashtray remained the same, though a second had appeared on the coffee table and had a fresh layer of cigarette butts.

  “Turns out I need a place to crash while mine is being unexpectedly renovated.” I shuddered in the air-conditioned basement as cool air struck my blistered skin.

  “Goddess—what happened to you?” Heaven’s eyes grew wide and...fuck, and disgusted, almost.

  Although I couldn’t see all of me, I figured her looking so horrified was not a good sign. Dread twisted my gut, but I resisted the urge to look down. “Can you believe I went to the beach without my sunblock?”

  “Several people broke into her apartment,” Nate said.

  Heaven eyed the doorway behind us. “You didn’t lead them here, did you?”

  “Thanks for the concern.” I patted her on the shoulder as I walked toward the bathroom. “Stealing your bathtub for a while.” I locked the door before Heaven could stop me.

  I ran a bath, filling the huge, circular tub up to near the top with lukewarm water. I figured Heaven was out there arguing with Nate about us being there, but as she had pointed out the night before, I had, in fact, saved her life. She owed me.

  I just hoped she didn’t start charging rent.

  My jeans stripped off painfully. No scissors waited in the drawers or cupboards, so I had to actually pull them down instead of just quickly cutting. A glance in the mirror was perfectly terrifying: though only exposed to a few seconds of sunlight, whitish blisters and reddened skin dotted my face, neck, shoulders, and upper chest, as well as down my arms and anywhere else not shielded by a sheet. A few places on my legs were burned as well, and some of the blisters had popped while I hurriedly put my pants on. All the burns were second degree and stinging like a motherfucker.

  Goddamn home invading fuckers, I’m going to—

  Well, I was in too much pain to get creative with what I’d like to do them. But it would be bad. Real bad.

  I pulled off the rest of my clothes with care and sank into the chilly, but soothing water. Submerging my head, I closed my eyes and relaxed. I had only accidentally run into sunlight a couple of times in the past few centuries; once because I didn’t realize it would actually hurt me, and the other times because I was trying—unsuccessfully—to get around during the day. It’s hard to completely avoid daylight, so I just got used to sleeping then. I suspected the myth about vampires sleeping in coffins came not just from us living in one while the demonic parasite gestated in our bodies, but because a casket provided complete protection from the sun. I never much cared for them, though, and ever since stupid Goth teenagers took up sleeping in them, most other self-respecting vampires gave the practice up as well.

  Through the water, a muffled sound echoed. I sat up and waited; another knock at the door followed.

  “Zara?” Heaven called. “Can I come in?”

  “It’s locked and I’m not getting up.”

  The lock popped open and Heaven stepped
in.

  “Magic spells?”

  “No, they’re just those silly child-locks that you can open with a screwdriver.” She put a pile of fresh towels on the counter. “I brought you these. I’ll have someone throw your clothes in the laundry.”

  I bit back a laugh that rose in me as she gathered my clothes the way a woman who has never picked up her own clothes—let alone someone else’s—would pick up dirty laundry. She lifted my thong, the edge held in a pinch between her index finger and thumb, then dropped it on the pile in her arms as if it might bite her.

  She sighed, making no attempts to hide her distaste at doing such a menial chore. “In the meantime, come out when you’re ready and we’ll see about cleaning up those burns.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she answered with a shrug and half smile. “Which means right now I have to see if Nathan’s arm has stopped bleeding.”

  “I’m fine,” Nate called from the other room.

  Couldn’t hold back a laugh anymore; a chuckle rose and left my lips. “You got shot again?”

  “Yes and I blame you.”

  “It just nicked the surface,” Heaven said. “Finish up and we’ll take care of you.” She slid the door shut and I immersed my head in the water again.

  Take care of me...this forced dependency sucks.

  But I wasn’t alone. Nightmares still played in my head; I pushed them away and focused on floating in the tub.

  Twenty minutes later, the water was doing nothing to soothe my wounds and I grew restless, so I rose. The terrycloth of the towel rubbed on my sore skin as I wrapped it around me. Pity I couldn’t stroll around naked, but it would probably give uppity Heaven a heart attack.

  The towel hugged my body from only my chest to mid-thigh, though, and I took care to keep it from touching any more of my blistered flesh. The injuries had already begun the healing process. That actually made the pain even more acute, as the rapid regeneration of skin was far from pleasant, and burns healed slower than regular cuts for some reason.

  I ran a brush through my long, wet hair, twisted it into a bun, then surveyed my appearance in the mirror. My very wide, blue eyes glittered back. Hey, I was still pretty hot, even for a burn victim. Go Zara!

  Heaven and Nate were seated in the living room. I forsook an armchair covered in scratchy material and pulled a flat-backed, armless wooden chair from the kitchen.

  “How are you feeling?” Heaven asked as I sat down.

  “If you really want to know, I can set you on fire,” I offered.

  She should’ve been celebrating my intact sense of humor. Instead, she ignored me, and reached for a bowl that sat among stacks of bandages and gauze on the coffee table. With the dish in hand, Heaven approached me.

  I breathed in the familiar scent of the viscous liquid in the bowl. “What’s that—honey?”

  She dipped a cloth in the poultice and began applying it to my wounds. “Amongst other things.”

  The mixture felt cool and soothing on my skin. Hooray for witch-y magic and the proper blend of herbs and spices.

  “I’ll be better in no time.” I turned to Nate. “So, is there any particular reason you didn’t just stop time back there?”

  The bowl of honey crashed to the floor, shattering and spilling sticky goo across the carpet. Heaven sat frozen in place, staring at Nate, hand still hanging midair where she’d been holding the bowl.

  Okay, so something about Nate being able to stop time or whatever seemed to break what was left of Heaven’s shot nerves. Glancing at Nate, I found his eyes fixed on me.

  “When we’re out of this dimension’s time stream,” he said calmly, as if he was explaining it to a child, “we aren’t able to affect anything that’s still in it, like opening the elevator door or getting in the car. And didn’t I tell you to keep that between us?”

  “No, actually, you didn’t.”

  “Oh. My mistake.”

  “Is this a joke?” Heaven barely breathed the words.

  “Nope.” I leaned back in the chair. “He can also teleport. Why—is that a big deal?”

  Weakly, Heaven knelt to pick up the fallen bowl and took it to the kitchen. She walked slowly, deliberately, as if feeling the ground with each step to ensure it didn’t give out beneath her. She returned with another batch of poultice—which she placed on the table instead of holding it—and pulled another pack of cigarettes from her pocket.

  Oh god, the chain-smoking witch is at it again.

  “I think I know why she tried to kill you,” Heaven said after a few long drags. “She...Mish...” A pause drew the tension in the room taut. “When you two eloped, did she know that all the rumors about you were true?” She and Nate seemed caught in a staring match, information passing between them on a level I couldn’t grasp.

  Once again, I was in the dark. “What rumors?”

  Nate seemed to chew over his reply. “She knew everything.”

  Heaven nodded. “And though you eloped, did you enter into a standard, coven sanctioned contract of marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “What rumors?” I repeated. “And what’s so special about witch quickie marriages?”

  “Our marriages are more than legal agreements,” Heaven finally acknowledged me. “They are truly a binding of souls. Upon death, there is a transfer of not only physical assets, but some ethereal ones as well.”

  “Meaning...?”

  “Magic.” Nate’s lips set in a straight line, and rage crept across his face. His eyes blazed blue, heart racing.

  “But if she was already wicked powerful, why did she need Nate’s mojo?” I asked. “And why hire me to do the killing? She could have just stabbed him in bed one night.”

  “It isn’t what you think, Nathan,” Heaven said. “Not exactly. Because she is the daughter of Lo, her complete power isn’t easily invoked. She knew certain things had to be done to unlock it, but she never had the desire to do it...which might have been my doing—I didn’t want her to—”

  “Cut the cryptic crap,” I said. “What had to be done?”

  Heaven bit at her bottom lip. Stared at Nate again. “A sacrifice. One of great power, of someone who felt deeply for her...” She glanced over at me. “...performed by a demon that came from her grandmother‘s dimension.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  You’re Out

  “Christ, this just keeps getting better and better,” I said wryly.

  Nate’s expression hadn’t changed at all. “You’re certain?” he asked Heaven. “You know for a fact she knew of the...‘offering?’”

  Heaven nodded. “Your heart ceases its beat by a demon’s hand and your life is paid in debt to the forces that unlock hers. The vampire parasite that infected Zara originally came from the Oblivion dimension, so she counted as the demon Mishka required.”

  Shit, maybe that was why the kid showed up at my door so many years ago. She knew vampires counted as the right type of demon. Became my friend and a sort of partner at work, encouraged me to pursue the assassination business, all the while know I could be used if she ever wanted to unlock her power.

  That bitch.

  “Sacrifice of love is a powerful thing,” Heaven continued. “It generates a lot of energy. Upon your death—had Mishka survived—the great power you commanded would be imbued with that of Lo, and—”

  “I hate ritual sacrifices,” I interrupted her dramatic dialogue. “They are so cliché. That was certainly a clever way of doing it, though. I’ll give Mishka props for creativity.”

  Nate sat there in silence, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, then folding his hands together and using them to prop his chin up. He stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Not even blinking.

  We didn’t just have circumstantial evidence anymore: here was our confirmation. She’d set him up from the very beginning, probably the moment she met him. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her to have orchestrated the f
irst encounter.

  “We still haven’t really answered the ‘why,’ though,” I said. “Okay, so she wanted Nate’s power to unlock her own. Great—but why now? It can’t be a mere fluke that it coincides with Operation: Coven Assault.”

  Heaven butted out the cigarette and wiped at her tired eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t had contact with her for years. My own daughter is—was—little more than a stranger to me. Maybe somehow she knew this was coming. That was her way to prepare.”

  Wordlessly, Nate stood. His steps were heavy as he walked across the room without so much as a glance at Heaven or myself, then he disappeared into one of the other rooms. The door closed and the snap of a lock followed.

  “He’s upset,” Heaven said softly.

  “Gosh, ya think so? He’ll get over it, though.” At least he’d better. If he was such a powerful warlock, then we needed him to face whatever it was coming for us. “So what are the rumors?”

  “Hmm?” Heaven said, tearing her gaze from the door where Nate went.

  “The rumors. About Nate.”

  “He was an ambitious kid.” Heaven picked up the bowl again and continued my honey therapy, wrapping my wounds in compresses as she spoke. A length of gauze and tape waited on the table as well, and I figured I’d probably look like a mummy by the time she finished. “Both he and his brother were. There were rumors that he was involved in some pretty heavy magic over in the UK during his early university days.”

  “Heavy as in what?”

  “As in opening dimensions and sending forth some horrid, uncontrollable demons.”

  Oh. So I guess that was pretty heavy.

  “Nathan was responsible for many deaths—fellow students, professors...some say the demons killed around fifty, others suggested it was more like three hundred. I suppose the truth lies somewhere in the middle.”

  Shit, that was...kinda impressive. Even I hadn’t taken out that many people at once. Maybe I could coax him to try again next time we were attacked, which was inevitable. “So what happened?”