I turned slowly until I saw him, Osmond, but I must have been in one of Devlin’s realitites, because Osmond stepped forward, cupped my face in his hand and leaned his forehead against mine.
I blinked and Osmond was still across the clearing, frowning at me in concern. I gasped as I tried to keep him there, in my line of sight so that he wouldn’t shift again into that other reality. I’d never been so tempted by that other world, by the simplicity of that life and the affection I’d won from Osmond. There had been no Lewis to rip apart my life, no Devlin who had betrayed me and stolen my soul.
“Osmond?” I said, wondering if he was really there at all.
“What are you doing with Chloe?” he asked slowly, his voice calm, willing me to be calm. He must have thought I was going to do something crazy. Maybe I was.
“I need to bring her back to life,” I said. The words out loud hurt. I whimpered as I felt the world close in on me, Chloe’s death an impossibility that I couldn’t grapple with.
“You can’t do that,” he said taking one step towards me. “You have to let her go.”
“I can’t, but the Hollow One can,” I said, lifting my chin and gazing at him levelly.
“Why would he? Wouldn’t he just take her body and use it for his Lost Souls?”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t cope with that possibility. “I don’t know. I have to try. I promised.”
“Come back to camp,” he said, taking another step towards me. “We’ll think of a plan, something that won’t get both of you killed, okay?” he said as he put a hand on my shoulder.
His touch was like an electric shock that had me flinching away from him. Worlds collided in my mind as I saw the imprints, only all the images swirled as they fought to perform themselves across my mind at the same time. Kisses, death, laughter and screams all blended as I tried to blink this world, this reality back into focus.
“Dariana, Dariana, look at me,” he said until I finally opened my eyes and saw him, Osmond, staring at me with a half-smile holding a bouquet of ragged wild flowers. “You need to come back to camp.”
I blinked and Osmond frowned at me, his arms over his chest, no flowers in sight. I shuddered as I held Chloe in my arms, her weight holding me down, holding me in my body, my mind.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered as I turned to go back the way I’d come. The flashes, the images, how lost I’d become terrified me. I hadn’t leaned myself, not much anyway.
“There’s a Hybrid with Hollow blood who can hold her soul while we decide what the best plan is,” he said soothingly, but keeping his distance.
“What plan?” I asked feeling lost. “What can I offer the Hollow One that he couldn’t just take?”
“Your brother…” he started then hesitated until I turned to look up at him. He looked tired, sad, but not close to defeated.
“What do you know?”
“The Hollow One has limitations. Your brother made it clear that I was never to directly engage with the Hollow One. I have some notes back in my desk. Maybe you could help puzzle them out.”
I nodded and felt a strange flutter of hope that I hadn’t felt for a long time. “Okay. But we can’t wait very long. I’m not very good with souls.”
He smiled, a forced smile that didn’t match the worry in his eyes, the sadness when he saw one of his Hunters limp in my arms.
“We’ll get you some transportation that makes up for any lost time,” he assured me.
In camp, I left Chloe with a Hybrid who scowled at us suspiciously before her eyes widened in horror when she saw Chloe. She promised that she would do everything she could to keep her soul with her body.
I followed Osmond to his tent, closing the flap behind me as he went to his desk and pulled out some papers. He frowned before he handed me a grocery receipt with his scrawl on the back of it.
Hollow immunity. He can’t hurt her. Sometimes he wants to, sometimes he wants her, but Dari is his weakness.
“Does this make sense to you?”
My heart pounded as I reread the words. Osmond reached forward and brushed my long hair out of my eyes. I blinked and the tent snapped into focus, Osmond leaning against his desk, my hair too short to brush out of my face. I couldn’t keep doing this.
“It says he can’t hurt me,” I said stupidly.
“And Chloe’s already dead, so there’s not much he can do to her other than possession, right?” Osmond said, frowning as he said the words.
“She’s not quite dead. Her soul is still attached, just a thread, but it’s something to go on.”
“Okay. The last we heard, the Hollow One is South of Kansas City. We’ll plan your route, send scouts and backup…”
“But if I’m the only one who’s immune to the Hollow One, I’m the only one who should go, if anyone should go. It’s crazy, really. What could I give the Hollow One that he doesn’t already have?”
“Your knife is good,” he said, frowning at me.
I pulled out my knife and then the other knife, staring at the double knives in my hands.
“Two?” he asked, his voice rising.
“I killed the demon mistress, well, one of them,” I said feeling my throat tighten. “Raoul’s sister. He helped me kill her. I still don’t know why. I don’t trust him.”
“You killed the demon mistress?” he asked as he stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. “She’s your Intended’s sister? The same Wild who put you on the plane?” he demanded.
“I didn’t think you knew about that,” I muttered, before I shook my head. He sounded too personal, too emotional. “That’s the one,” I agreed.
“What about your uncle, Grim,” Osmond said.
“What about him?”
“Maybe he would know how to approach the Hollow One. Supposedly he has most of the Hollow blood, right?”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“I’m piecing things together, and Snowy…” His jaw clenched as he took a deep soothing breath, holding back whatever he’d been about to tell me.
“What did Snowy say?” I demanded.
He stared at me blankly. “You know Snowy. She’s always very good at knowing exactly how to get what she needs. Maybe you should take her with you.”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near the Hollow One, and neither should Dari,” Snowy said, her voice cutting through the tent like ice water. “Also, bringing corpses to the camp with their souls wrapped up like it’s Christmas will give you the kind of reputation it’s hard to live down.”
I turned to stare at her, cute, white blonde hair, looking edgy and stylish in her black outfit with pink trim.
“Snowy, this is a private conversation in my private tent,” Osmond said, frowning at her, but she refused to take a hint as subtle as that.
“Why did you bring the girl to camp and ask someone to watch her soul? Are you trying to bring her back to life, seriously? Do you know what kind of problems that can cause? How long has she been dead? What kind of brain activity is going on? Do you think she wants to come back to life after whatever gruesome way she died? Would you? You have no idea what you’re doing, as usual, just running into another mess like an idiot, dragging everyone with you whether they want to be there or not, no matter how much danger you’re putting them in, us in. Maybe you should think about this for more than a quarter of a second. Maybe you can’t think anymore. Maybe you’re just an emo girl with angst and issues and no room for something as dry and boring as rational thought.”
“Snowy,” Osmond cut through, his voice echoing in the tent as he came up and put an arm on my lower back. “You brought Dari here, and now she’s one of my Hunters. The best. You’re going to leave my tent and go back to your assignment, unless you need to resign.”
I froze under his warm hand, images flashing in my mind, other touches that hadn’t really happened. I turned my head and kissed him, melting in his arms, his strong arms pulling me against his body as his mouth devoured mine.
&
nbsp; “Dari?” Snowy’s words brought the room back into focus. “You waltz into camp after…”
Osmond cut her off, “Killing the demon mistress. That’s what you were going to say, right Snowy?” He tightened his grip on my waist and I swayed unsure if this reality was happening. “You need to go, now,” he ordered. Something in his voice stopped Snowy, or maybe it was hearing that I’d killed the demon mistress.
Snowy shook her head tightly, like this conversation wasn’t done before she spun around and left the tent, flaps flapping behind her. Osmond put his hand on my shoulder, the one that wasn’t on my waist and looked at me with concern on his nice, normal face.
I closed my eyes and felt dizzy. He leaned down and kissed me, only it wasn’t this reality, it couldn’t be even though my lips felt the pressure and I fell into him, feeling his warmth and strength against my scarred chest, his grip tighten on my skin as my lips brushed his, the warmth out of place in all the cold that surrounded my heart, a heart that beat in a brittle way after the pressure of the demon mistress’s touch.
His mouth felt real, his breath, skin, tongue when it met mine a shock that sent a thrill of guilt through me, but I didn’t know Lewis in this reality. He didn’t exist, only Osmond. He pulled away to look down at me, but I wasn’t ready to face that other world, that other reality.
“Osmond,” I whispered as I gripped his shirt and pulled him back to me, sliding my hand up his chest and around his neck, feeling the slight scratchiness of someone who hadn’t shaved recently enough, his breath warmth that I needed, that soothed the rips in my soul from killing the demon mistress, only I hadn’t killed her in this reality.
He leaned into me, his mouth uncertain on mine, slow, careful while I pressed against him, desperate to hold onto the moment when nothing else existed, when I’d blink and face Osmond’s indifference, Chloe’s corpse, and the darkness between me and the Hollow One.
Someone gasped, Osmond’s grip on my waist and shoulder tightened painfully for a moment before he pulled away, I blinked and stared into the face of an Osmond I didn’t recognize from any of my collected versions of reality.
“Sorry,” the person at the door mumbled, one of Osmond’s loyal Hunters before he backed out and left us alone.
“You said my name,” Osmond said, staring at me like he’d never seen me before.
I turned my head and looked at his hand on my shoulder until he dropped it and I moved away crossing my arms over my chest.
“I’ll talk to Smoke,” he said sounding calm but something about the way he looked at me seemed out of place.
Had that really happened? Had I really kissed Osmond? No. I wouldn’t do that. I loved Lewis. Dead, alive, it didn’t matter. I’d said Osmond’s name, that was it. He’d say something if I’d kissed him in real life. He wouldn’t let me in the first place.
“Yeah. I’ll just go,” I said stumbling towards the door.
Chapter 18
I went to my tent, counting feathers as I went, my heart throbbing in my chest. I should find a tree and soak up some good energy. I felt so sick and weak from her touch. I never should have let a demon mistress touch me. I should have run, have done something to keep her away, but she’d been so powerful. I never would have beaten her if it weren’t for her brother, distracting her with whatever he’d done, but why? Why would he choose me over his sister, or was it as simple as choosing Nether over taint? Could I have done that if it were Devlin who’d become tainted, corrupted, like the mad voice I’d thought I’d heard when I’d looked at Orrin.
I should check on them, on Orrin and Marcus, but I couldn’t bear the thought of more taint, more of the skittering shrieks as the demons screamed at me. Maybe I couldn’t really hear it at all.
I stumbled into a Hotblood. I knew as soon as his skin touched mine because fire chased up my arms, warming them, distracting me from my thoughts, from the darkness.
I looked up and saw Sieve smiling a knowing, seductive smile at me.
“What?” I demanded.
He cocked his head to his tent and lifted an eyebrow in invitation. I went, ducking through the tent then turned and almost ran into him again when he was there, right behind me. He slid his arms around my back, pulling me forward into his chest. I didn’t resist. I was too busy thinking that it was one of the other realities, but when else would I ever tangle with this Bloodworker?
“I heard that you encountered the demon mistress,” he said in a low voice as he slid his hands beneath my shirt, over the skin and metal runes of my back.
I jerked away, stumbling into his cot while he cocked his head curiously at me.
“Is that your congratulatory pat on the back? I’m unaccustomed to being manhandled.”
“Manhandled? You think that was being manhandled?” He took a step forward and grinned at me, his teeth looking sharp and bright. The first time I’d seen him, his teeth had been pink from blood.
“Did you have something that you wanted to say? I have things to do.”
“You need human contact,” he said, stepping forward.
I shuffled back and sat down on his cot, a surprisingly comfortable cot that he’d apparently added padding to. “I’m fine,” I said, but when I closed my eyes I felt like I was suffocating. I tried to breathe, but couldn’t get enough oxygen.
He sat beside me and put his hand on my back over my leather but under the feathers.
“You’re fine all right,” he said smoothing my back under his warm hand.
Oddly enough, it helped, having him pet me like a cat. It smoothed away a little bit of the clawing insanity.
“All I need is some Autumn,” I said sarcastically, but I stayed where I was on his cot sighing as he fished a bottle from under his bed. He uncorked it with his teeth, keeping his hand on my leather, warmth absorbing and chasing away a little of the chill.
“I don’t get you,” I said as he handed me the bottle. I looked at the Hotblood, bulky with muscles from his low burn, glowing eyes, big, strong, dangerous, taking care of me like I was an invalid.
“I owe you a favor,” he said with a shrug. “You kept me from killing Aiden. You know who he is? It took me a while to piece it together, but we need him. We need you.”
“Who needs us so much?”
“The whole world,” he said with a smirk that twisted his lips. He didn’t have a lot of padding on his narrow lips. I’d never noticed his mouth before. I shook my head trying to knock the thoughts away and took a long swig of the Autumn. There must have been something else in it, because it warmed my belly more than your ordinary death. Her death had not been ordinary. I choked and swallowed down the wrong way as I remembered the demon mistress, her death, so potent.
Sieve took the bottle from me and drank deeply before passing it back. I frowned at him. I didn’t need his germs, but the mocking in his eyes, me afraid of a little spit when I’d been covered in taint and monster guts in the not too distant past had me putting the bottle to my mouth, still warm from him.
The second drink went down better, the burning in my throat and stomach pooling into a sickening warmth that spread through me, matching his hand on my skin. At some point he’d slid his hand under my shirt without my noticing. I passed the bottle back and slumped down further on the cot, feeling tired but not quite so terrified. I liked that. I took the bottle back and drank deeply, ignoring the fact that I probably should not be drinking with a Bloodworker.
I slid onto the cot with Sieve’s hand still attached to my back so he came with me, the lines of his hot body burning into me through my leather, but pleasantly as we lay there together.
“I think you’re seducing me,” I said, my words coming from far away.
He traced the scar on my face with his hot fingers. Somehow it didn’t bother me.
“What gives you that idea?”
“I’m on your bed. Maybe I’m seducing you.” I frowned at him but he still looked a little bit fuzzy.
“I’m not going to take advantage of you,
” he said, his words mellow and slow as he ran his hand down my neck, following the scar down my chest. “This is a beautiful scar,” he said with a drowsy smile as his hand went down my shirt, between my breasts until it slashed to the side in my stomach. “How did you survive such a scar?”
“That’s nothing,” I said, undoing the clasp that held my feathers around me. I held up my arm, showing him the thin line that bound me forever to Lewis. “This is the scar that really killed me. I’m nothing but a ghost.”
He took his hand out of my leather shirt to take my wrist and turn my arm this way and that, examining me like a scar expert, which as a Bloodworker, he was. When he looked at me, he had concern for me in his eyes, clear for me to read, almost like he saw me.
I tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go of my wrist, instead, he pressed his hot mouth to the top of my scar and burned.
I gasped in pain, struggling to get away, but he only held me tighter as the heat sank into the line, spreading up my arm and towards my heart until I closed my eyes, the world burning, the memory of Lewis’s ashes filling up my mind, my whole being. I twisted until I lay on top of the Hotblood, but however I moved and whatever leverage I got, he wouldn’t take his mouth from my wrist and the agonizing fire that spread through me as though cauterizing my bond.
That’s how Osmond found us, legs tangled, his hand up the back of my shirt with me on top of him while he kissed my wrist. I didn’t know how long he stood there, before he said my name, a command that had me looking up and seeing Osmond, feeling guilt as I shifted through memories trying to find one where I’d betrayed him with a random Hotblood.
“We keep the Code in my camp,” Osmond said, walking forward to grab Sieve and twist his arm behind his back until Sieve was wincing, half on and half off of the cot, eyes burning as he stared at me, then blinking back the unstable heat, he shook off Osmond, looking down at me with an inscrutable expression on his face before he turned to Osmond and nodded shortly.
House of Slide: Hunter Page 22