Even if you were the darkest, most evil being around, that was an unpleasant fate. One you’d try damn hard to avoid.
If you could resist.
Marrack couldn’t moon burn them all. Even a demon king didn’t have that type of power.
“What are you thinking, my friend?” Gunnar asked from inside the car.
I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. “What if everyone was wrong?”
“I do not follow.”
“We thought that these daystriders were moon-burned,” I said. “But what if it’s something else?”
“Something like what?”
“An enchantment. A curse.” I shrugged. “I don’t fucking read, man.”
“We have all noticed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Be that as it may, I think Marrack cast a spell.”
“I do not believe the Demon King is much of a magician.”
This gave me pause. Until something slid into place with a sickening click. I only knew of two witches powerful enough to cast such a widespread, powerful enslavement curse.
But one of them was limping, propped up by a cane.
Which left only one option.
“Delphine.”
“But she is an ally, yes?”
“She’s the only one who could cast a spell that would make all creatures of dark essence who have pledged fealty to the Conclave do Marrack’s bidding.” I punched the ignition and the engine roared to life. “No choice, no free will.”
“Like robots.” Gunnar shrugged. “With fangs, of course.”
“Yeah, robots with fangs.” I pulled out from the parking space. “But maybe it’s a good thing.”
I recalled the daystriders battling the darkness. Their souls corrupted far beyond what one would expect, even for bloodthirsty and merciless vampires.
“And this is good for us how, my friend?”
“Because if everyone is only working for Marrack against their will, what happens when you break the spell?”
I saw Gunnar’s lips turn upward into a cool smile. “I think you are smarter now that you are human, my friend.”
“Let’s hope that’s enough.”
The tires squealed as I turned back down Main Street, knowing just what I had to do next.
I had to go home.
44
Breaking a powerful spell like that would require a lot of essence. Not nearly as much as fulfilling the prophecy within the Journal of Annihilation, but still far more than what one could find scrounging through the couch cushions.
Gunnar assured me that Javier’s essence was safely back at Ruby’s new base of operations. That was good news, but it wouldn’t be nearly enough on its own.
Fortunately, all that time spent executing Charon’s estate over the past four months—ten, I had to remind myself as I cut down the pitted road—hadn’t been a complete waste of time. My old warden might have been an addict, asshole and political assassin, but he was also, shockingly enough, shrewd with money.
And, as it turned out, artifacts. What these were—or the power they contained—remained to be seen. They were simply listed as items stored at his lawyer’s estate. But I needed the damn address and paperwork, so that I could claim them without a ten-year legal battle.
Yes, I suppose a rogue could steal them. But it struck me that sneaking into my own loft for eight ounces of paperwork would be a hell of a lot easier than thieving hundreds, if not thousands of pounds, of ancient goods without getting caught.
Especially when my face was plastered on every news station in existence, apparently for the rest of eternity.
I cut the headlights as I turned down my block. Two unmarked police cars were parked out front. I never understood why all undercover guys insist on using the same black sedans. As if anyone who had a choice would ever purchase one of those things willingly.
I let my foot off the accelerator, cruising quietly past.
“When was that video released, anyway?”
“A day after you left.”
There was nothing positive to say about that. I let the car coast to the end of the block before pulling off.
“Can you work your magic on the cops?”
“It is not like the movies,” Gunnar said, snapping his fingers. His long blond hair waved back and forth. “I cannot brainwash them.”
“You can light a fucking fire for all I care,” I said. “I just need to get in the house for five minutes.”
“Five minutes.” The words came with skepticism.
“Give or take.”
Without saying anything, the vamp disappeared. I heard the door slam before it fully registered he was gone. I desperately needed an adjustment period—a course on how to become human again.
Unfortunately, it would seem that neither Nadia nor Marrack would wait for me to regain my footing. I gripped the wheel, trying to see into the dim night. Hopefully Gunnar wouldn’t just snap their necks. Then again, if he got Detective Scott, that might be a net win for society.
I was sure that son of a bitch had released the footage. Probably creamed his pants after recovering from his catatonic state and realizing what he had. At last, irrefutable evidence that Kalos Aeon was a demonic harbinger of doom. And it’d only taken him four years to do it.
Historically speaking, in terms of vindictive assholes trying to nail me to the cross—both figurative and literal—Scott actually worked pretty quick. So maybe a hat tip was in order.
I squinted, wondering why the hell one of the cruisers had suddenly turned on its hazards. The yellow lights blinked off and on for a few cycles before I realized that was my cue.
Hurrying out of the car and up the walk, I caught sight of Gunnar having a nice chat with the guy in the first car. I nodded my thanks, but he didn’t break character. Whether it was his vamp manipulation tricks or just regular old bullshit, I owed him a measure of thanks.
The door was locked, but I still had my key. After all, I’d been here less than a day before. The door groaned softly as I slipped through. The interior of the loft was lit by spooky slivers of bright moonlight.
I could see the hazards blink through the bullet holes in the brickwork. Should’ve seen Nadia’s transformation coming. Slippery slopes become black diamonds all too damn quickly.
The interior looked largely untouched, although that wasn’t a surprise. I traveled light, and Charon didn’t store most of his belongings at the loft. A quick trip upstairs told me that the cops—or the feds, even—had gone through all of Argos’s books.
They hadn’t taken any. Guess no one felt compelled to do a little light reading into The Arte of Enchantemente: An Introductorie Classe. It felt more like an introductory class in overusing the letter e at inappropriate times, but then, modern language had spoiled me.
Seriously. Things were a mess four hundred years ago. I had no desire to slip back to the Renaissance, let alone the Dark Ages.
Spurred on by happy thoughts, I tried to retrace my steps before my trip to the Weald. The nightstand proved a bust, as did the bed. That damned folder had been my permanent companion just about everywhere.
A floorboard creaked, and I whirled around. Nothing but shadows and dim moonlight. At this rate, I’d start seeing ghosts everywhere. Living on the run took its toll.
Upstairs out, I slowly descended to the first floor, checking the darkness for unwanted visitors. With a sigh of relief, I spotted the manila folder on a side table, propped up against a lamp. I’d made things harder than necessary.
I picked it up, rifling through the contents. Everything was still here. Whoever had come and searched my things had found this approximately as interesting as Argos’s arcane books. I didn’t blame the cops. I wouldn’t dive through tax returns and wills on a government salary, either.
“Seven centuries, Mr. Aeon.”
“Excuse me?”
“Our great Order survived more than seven centuries,” he said. “Before your involvement.”
“If I’d have known that’s all it took, I would’ve gotten involved sooner.” I reached for the .45, but Redmond flung a hidden blade with a quick snap of the wrist. Eager not to die, I hit the deck, feeling the .45 clatter away.
“Your head will be a beautiful addition to me collection.”
“Hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” I said, scrambling to my feet as he stalked closer, “but I’m not even a demon any more.”
“You will not deceive me, demon.”
Good point. Convincing him of the truth was probably futile. I reached down and yanked the blade from my ankle sheath, brandishing it toward him.
“So you’re all that’s left.”
“I will avenge my brothers and sisters,” Redmond said. “And then I will rebuild our wonderful Order from the ashes.”
He extracted a sizable sword from his waist. It made my combat knife look more like a dirk. We circled each other, neither making the first move. The open floor plan and relative lack of furniture made for a relatively clutter-free battlefield.
I would have gladly taken no battle at all and a good night’s sleep. Like usual, I could feel my pulse pump in my neck. But unlike so many times before, it did so not with bloodlust, but with fear.
Redmond’s eyes focused tightly on me, seeing only his mission. It must’ve been nice, to have such simple goals. I mean, he was a total fucking psycho and a general detriment to society, but still—having a purpose was nice.
He charged forward, thrusting with the blade. I sidestepped, quickly discovering that “wide open” was a horrible miscalculation. My shin banged against the coffee table, and I stumbled. Redmond brought the blade around, and I met it with the combat knife.
The force of his strike made the knife drop from my hand. I stumbled backward toward the kitchen, unarmed and decidedly overmatched. Redmond was toying with me. He’d killed actual demons—no small feat for a human.
I darted behind the kitchen island, searching along the countertops for knives or other weapons. Finding only a stainless steel toaster, I ripped the plug from the wall and hurled it at him. He dodged the appliance with ease, advancing smoothly toward me.
“I expected this to be more of a challenge, Mr. Aeon.”
“You and me both.”
His nostrils flared in annoyance. “No magic?”
“You’d be a fucking idiot to come here without being dampened to the gills.”
Redmond smiled, clearly pleased that I recognized his preparation. He spun the blade’s handle in his hand, deftly catching it. Reaching the opposite end of the island, he paused to stare.
“Cowardice is unbefitting of a demon.”
“You have your strategies, I have mine.” Right now, I was trying to calculate if I could grab the scattered papers on the floor and haul ass out the door.
It seemed unlikely.
The only other option was to scream loud enough and hope that the cops heard me.
Both of these I rejected for obvious reasons.
“You know what the girl told us during all those months?”
“What?”
“That she could always sense it.” Redmond shook his head, like the thought made him sick. “That magic would one day find her. That fate was watching her.”
Well, it wasn’t fate. But the Sol Council was definitely keeping tabs on Nadia. In light of recent events, it seemed like a surprisingly prescient move. It was hard to give them too much credit, though. Their other forward thinking maneuvers had led the world to its current impasse with Marrack’s mind-controlled minions.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have held her hostage.”
“If you had just done your job, Mr. Aeon—”
“That’s just what happens when you rely on demons.” I shrugged, mind made up. I broke left, toward the kitchen counter and bullet-pitted silver fridge. Redmond, caught off guard, instinctively followed my movement.
But I quickly cut back, sprinting toward the living room—and the .45 which lay beneath the side table. Diving through the jumbled papers on the ground, I heard Redmond adjust course, trying to catch up.
I fumbled for the gun, unable to see its exact location. The grip greeted my fingers like a welcoming best friend.
Redmond roared, ready to end things.
That made two of us.
I rolled over, squeezing the trigger three times, hitting him center mass. He kept going, and I emptied the rest of the clip, finally stopping him a couple feet away. Mouth open, blood pouring from his teeth, he dropped to his knees.
The long sword clattered to the ground, followed by a dead thud.
Outside, I heard shouts—cops barking instructions at one another. The illusion had been shattered. Gunshots will do that.
I pushed the papers together, jamming them back into the folder. Too bad I didn’t have a grappling hook like Ruby to simply whisk me away.
But the shouting turned abruptly into gunfire. I ducked behind the couch to defend myself against the bullets, but the shots weren’t aimed at me. After the second salvo, I edged out, hunch-jogging toward the door.
I opened it cautiously, one eye peeking out to the street.
Three plains clothes cops stood down the block, near the SUV. One had his knees on a man’s arms, pinning him to the asphalt. My eyes scanned further up the road, finding two stunned officers leaning up against the dented doors of their cruisers.
There was a guttural scream. One that I would recognize anywhere.
Helpless, I slipped out the door, glancing once more over my shoulder before sprinting off into the night as Gunnar yelled.
45
I ran until my lungs felt ready to explode. Finally, when I had to stop, I collapsed to my knees and tore at my pockets. Cursing my own stupidity, I flung Dylan Redmond’s burner phone against the nearest wall. The plastic shattered with an empty crack.
Gunnar had paid for my sloppiness. I might as well have laid down a neat trail of bread crumbs for the demon hunter to follow. Shaking my head, I tried to get the picture of the vampire in silver handcuffs out of my mind.
But it followed me around, even when I opened my eyes.
I rose to my feet, trying to calm my thoughts. The first thing I noticed was the crushed folder. I released my grip, the papers crinkling as they half-returned to their original form. A million pointless regrets clashed together as I moved forward. I shoved them from my mind; there was no time for self-pity.
The situation was dire, and I was at its center. What else was there to think about?
Flicking through my phone’s menu, I discovered that Pearl had input a new number.
I rang it, and she said, “Need a ride?”
“Long story,” I said, briefly exing the situation.
“You’ve seen the news?”
“I have.”
“Then perhaps the police station isn’t the best place for you right now.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and stifled a shiver. “Just give me an hour.”
“Ruby’s your chauffeur this time around,” Pearl said, like she was washing her hands of the matter.
“Can’t wait.”
“Don’t get caught, Kalos.”
“No promises.”
I didn’t care that it would take me half an hour to reach the Inonda precinct on foot, or that it was cold, or that, all things considered, going to the cops was a bad idea. It offered me plenty of alone time to reflect.
Had it been my destiny to be taken down by a corrupt cop? P
lucked off the gray, rocky shores of the River Styx, waiting seven thousand years…all to be a supernatural scapegoat? I cocked my head, attention drawn to an empty banging.
Just a couple of vagrants pushing a rusty shopping cart.
This couldn’t be my fate.
No. Charon had saved me from the Underworld because I had a destiny to fulfill. I furrowed my brow, trying to remember his words.
A mortal crucial to the balance of the world.
Perhaps, then, this was exactly where I needed to be. My destiny was right on track. And if Charon was right, it would be revealed in a full-on, unstoppable collision with Marrack. Our fates were always intertwined, from Day 1, when I had stolen the demon’s drinking chalice and gotten my guts slashed upon for the trouble.
Athena the Goddess Killer had initially spared me because of my destiny.
It was alluded to in the Journal of Annihilation.
I had to believe that I still mattered. Because between Nadia and Marrack, I felt outgunned and severely outmatched. If I thought hard enough, I could still feel him slicing through my flesh, seven millennia prior.
A mortal was no match for a Demon King. Not without help.
Of course, I still didn’t know exactly what my destiny was. No one had seen fit to explain that, possibly because no one but the dead gods knew. I cracked a grim smile. Maybe Nadia, in her infinite and age-old wisdom, could shed a light.
My destiny could be as simple as a legacy of broken promises. For two shattered pacts—one to Isabella, the other to Nadia—could be directly linked to the world crumbling around me. I would have pondered whether I could be held responsible for the actions and responses of others, but the precinct was straight ahead.
I broke into a light jog, double-checking the empty lot for signs of life. The cops who had bagged Gunnar weren’t around, meaning the vamp hadn’t been taken here for holding. Still, I owed my friend a good effort. Not long ago, he’d driven straight through these walls to break me loose.
It was a long shot, but there could be a clue inside to where he’d gone. Or a way to get him back.
My code might have gotten me into trouble a couple times, but it was probably the only reason I was still around to experience trouble at all.
Moon Burn (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 3) Page 19