Camille nodded, disgruntled by Deacon’s amusement. “The Lady requires her presence in Boston. She will not be pleased if Adeline is detained.” She plunged on rashly. “Must I remind you of the risk of incurring her displeasure?”
“No threats during parley, please,” Dominique began. “We will maintain decoru–”
But Deacon cut her short. “I already said I don’t have her,” he snapped, jumping to his feet. Damn, that was a big man. He loomed over her, the raging tiger, leaning over the table as if about to pounce. “I’m not in the habit of kidnapping or murdering teenagers, demon or otherwise, whatever you may think. If I find her, she’ll be on the first bus to Boston and out of my territory. But I can promise you this: I don’t take kindly to threats. If the Hunt raises even a finger against my son, I will not abide by the Covenant. I will make Shade pay for it.”
Camille shrank back, heart beating wildly. Deacon drew a shuddering breath and backed away.
“I apologize to Madam Mediator for my outburst. Please note I had provocation, in the form of threats against my family. I would like to lodge a formal complaint against Miss Darkwing for incitement.” He remained standing, a tower of barely suppressed rage.
Dominique glared at Camille. “Duly noted. Miss Darkwing will refrain from any further taunting during this parley.”
“No need for that. The parley is over,” declared Deacon, decisively. “Miss Darkwing, if the girl is here, she shall be found and sent away. Do not consider this a favor. In this matter, our interests coincide. I have no wish to see demons in Hartford.” He tucked the photo of Adeline in his shirt pocket and turned to Dominique, waiting.
Dominique closed the proceedings. “I declare the parley between Camille Darkwing and James Deacon to be at an end. Go forth under the peace of the Covenant.”
Deacon exploded from the room without a backward glance, leaving Camille quiet and bruised inside like the sky after a thunderstorm.
“I warned you,” said Dominique, shaking her head. “Buttons. You just had to push them, didn’t you?”
Chapter Sixteen
Ash
Ash had woken up in the morning to find his dad still out and a message on his cell. Call me. He’d dutifully rung Deacon’s number.
“Ash. Did you just get up? Son, it’s past nine in the morning; you’re missing Mass.”
“I overslept,” he’d mumbled. “I had a bad night.” Truth, always the truth, nothing but the truth for a sentinel’s child. Lies were harder to sense over the phone, but why risk it?
“Dreams?”
“The worst.” He’d been wandering around a deserted city center, shouting for Del. It began to rain, and the raindrops sliced at his skin, stripping it away in bloody rivulets. He started to run, and it turned into one of those muddled dreams where you run, and run, and never get anywhere.
“I’m sorry I’m still away. I have a last meeting at ten, and then I’m heading back to Hartford. But I have a thing at noon. Sentinel business. Should be home by one.”
Free to do as he pleased, he’d spent the morning with Del, teaching her a stupid card game to take her mind off the hours slowly creeping by. It was easy, being with Del, and at the same time impossible. She understood him better than anyone else he knew. She got the frustration, the pain. The urge to shatter the Covenant into a million tiny bits. But both his head and his heart both screamed danger when he was with her, and for completely different reasons.
He needed her gone, but the thought of not seeing her again was oddly painful. At one point, he’d reached forward to brush away a moth that fluttered by her head, and his hand had grazed her cheek. She’d leaned into it, just a fraction, and he’d pulled away as though burned.
Del was a complication, all right, but she was his complication and he would see her safely out of Hartford.
He’d arrived home at noon, anxious to talk to his dad. But two o’clock rolled around and there was still no sign of Deacon. Ash made himself a sandwich and caught the end of a superhero movie on TV.
“Dad, I need your help.” He cleared his throat. No. Wrong start. That would just freak his father out. He tried again. “Dad, I need to tell you something.” Or should he start with that time-honored chestnut, “We need to talk”? He grinned.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” he joked. The smile faded. It wasn’t really funny. “Well, shoot,” he told the posturing superhero on the screen. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”
Tired of talking to himself, he took his plate to the kitchen and placed it neatly in the dishwasher. With nothing to do but wait, he gathered his sentinel binders and started going through his notes. His written finals were in three days. Wednesday, the day before school started. School-school, ordinary high school where most of the kids led ordinary lives and spent their summer vacations working at the local pool as lifeguards instead of spending hours practicing their Zwerchhau strike for the millionth time with an acrylic training sword.
Sometimes he would give anything to be one of those guys, oblivious to the preternaturals among them. He had great grades — he could probably have had his choice of college. That would have been nice. Go somewhere far away, maybe even the West Coast. Meet new people. But as the next Scion-in-waiting, he was required to remain nearby. Go to UConn or some other local college, and choose a major that didn’t require too much work, so he could be at hand if needed. Each year that passed, the chains settled more firmly around him, snaring him hand and foot until, eventually, there would be nothing left to do but bow down as his father had.
He turned to the section on demon packs. It confirmed what Del had told him: that a newly made half-demon had the right to claim a first kill. There was nothing in his notes about that first kill sealing the demon blood, but Del’s story had the ring of truth to it, and it was more than likely that not every demon mystery was out in the open. Every race of preternatural had secrets.
It was almost five when Deacon got home. Ash was still at the dining table going over a list of important points of Covenant law. He looked up to see his dad at the front door, his face like thunder. Jordan stood just behind, smirking. Ash froze, pencil in mid-air.
“James,” his dad said, quietly, “do you have something you want to tell me?”
The quiet voice was the worst one. The calm before the storm. Ash put his pencil down carefully and set his hands on the table.
“What do you want to know?” he answered cautiously, in the same quiet tone.
Deacon took his time crossing the room. He pulled out a chair and sat across from Ash. He set his hands upon the table, too, mirroring his son. Jordan stayed right where he was, leaning against the front door.
Ash felt sick. If Jordan was here, it could mean only one thing. Deacon had found out about Del. He searched his dad’s eyes for a clue. But all he saw was anger and disappointment.
“Today I had a very interesting meeting,” said Deacon. “With a demon from the East Coast pack. She’s looking for one of their youngsters, a teenager. Name of Adeline. Ring any bells?”
“Maybe,” he replied, wary.
Without taking his eyes from Ash, his dad took a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and spread it out. It was a photo of Del. He pushed the photo across the table. Ash stared at the picture for a moment, and then looked up to meet his dad’s scrutiny.
“Your cousin tells me this girl, Adeline, has been living at your grandfather’s shop for the past few days. He said you offered her Sanctuary. A demon requesting Sanctuary in my town… Jordan tells me you’ve been helping her, and that you made him promise to keep it from me. Please tell me my own son hasn’t been deceiving me?”
“I haven’t deceived you.” Too defensive. He tried again, forcing himself to sound calm and in control. “I just haven’t told you everything that goes on in my life. And it’s my town, too. Del has the right to stay wherever she wants.”
“No. I’m afraid she doesn’t.”
Ash flinched at the harsh tone in
his dad’s voice. But Deacon wasn’t done. He stood abruptly.
“I am the Scion of this Chapter, not you,” he said. “Not yet. And she does not have the right to be here, and you do not have the right to offer a demon Sanctuary without consulting me.” His voice rose steadily until he was shouting. “And you certainly don’t have the right to fraternize with demons after what happened to your mother. You can stop glaring at Jordan like that. I’m thankful that at least one person in this room knows where his allegiance lies.”
“Allegiance? You want to talk about allegiance?” Ash was shouting too, his attempt at calm shattering into a million pieces. “Yes, I offered her Sanctuary. Yes, I kept her presence a secret. I did it to protect you! She’s bound by the laws now — she can’t harm my family. I wanted time to figure out why she was here. For you! Without dragging you into even more trouble with the Court. Not that you’d care, not that you’ve cared about anything since mom died except obeying all these stupid rules. The rules that killed her.”
He took a deep breath and forced himself to lower his voice. “Dad, Del is different. She’s unpledged, she never asked to be a demon. It’s not her fault she was turned by Shade.”
Deacon lost it. “You will NOT utter that name in this house,” he yelled. “And I don’t care what you think about this girl, she’s out of here. On the next bus to Boston.”
“Wait, you need to listen.” Ash stood in a hurry, knocking over his chair. His voice rose again in desperation. “If you send her to Boston, you’re condemning her. She’ll either be forced to kill or she’s dead herself. Don’t you get it?”
“No, you don’t get it. I am not going up against that foul creature for the sake of some demon child. I will not jeopardize the safety of what’s left of my family for this girl. Do. You. Understand?”
Deacon whirled around and headed back out. “Dad!” Ash called, chasing after him. He caught his father at the truck, moments after the door slammed shut. “Dad!” he yelled, hammering at the window as Deacon gunned the engine.
The window opened and Deacon looked him straight in the eyes, his gaze more disappointment than anger now. “James. You’ll remain here while I deal with this. We’ll talk when I get back.” The truck pulled out of the driveway and screeched off down the street.
There was a deep silence, and then Jordan called out, “Told you she was trouble, dude.”
Ash marched straight up to his cousin and slugged him in the face. Jordan went down hard, onto his backside on the gravel path. Blood streamed from his nose.
“Damn!” Jordan touched his face, and his hand came away red. “What the hell?”
Ash glared down at him. “Just stay out of my way!”
He left Jordan on the path and raced into the house. He pulled t-shirts from the top drawer and stuffed them in his sports bag. He added sweats and a hoodie. He grabbed clean underwear and tossed his toothbrush in on top. Downstairs, he went through the kitchen like a whirlwind, packing noodles, margarine, and the last of the bread. He managed to shove a large bag of chips and some sodas into the sports bag and then zipped it shut.
On his way out, he stuffed his wallet in his pocket, but hesitated over his cell phone. In the end, he left it pointedly on top of the table.
By the time he pulled the front door shut, Jordan had gone, leaving a thin trail of blood drops down the driveway. Well, fuck him, he thought viciously.
Ash hoisted the bag onto his back and began to run.
Chapter Seventeen
Del
Del was out on the fire escape, door propped open with the chair. She had one of Ash’s books on her lap, but instead of reading she was sitting with her back against the doorway, eyes closed, face tilted toward the sunshine that sliced through the tangle of buildings. It was very peaceful.
She wasn’t sure what to make of Ash. He was sincere about helping her, that much she was sure of. But he was such a complicated bundle of anger, duty, and sorrow. And when he touched her, however briefly, she could feel it to her very core.
He was the first boy she’d met since she’d been Gifted by Shade. Maybe that’s all it was, a natural attraction. But something told her this was different, that this was no ordinary longing. Everything that was Ash tugged at her, drawing her to him, as though she were his immortal hunger. Whatever it was, she knew she wanted to kiss him so much that it hurt.
Her thumb drifted to the letters on her arm. Remember, she told herself fiercely. Just remember. Her mind slipped back to the broken memory of the alley, and the demon waiting in the shadows. No, not that one. Something else.
And then, so suddenly her breath caught in her throat, she had a memory flash. A brand new one, something she’d never remembered before. A tall, blonde witch with a shimmering green aura.
The room was a mess, the simple wooden furniture knocked to the sides as though a hurricane had breezed through. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and she could see dark splatters on the walls, splatters that shouldn’t be there.
She knelt on the earthen floor, rough-spun skirts bunched up around her knees.
“Mercy!” she cried out.
The blonde witch laughed scornfully. “No mercy for blood traitors. No mercy for those who consort with demons. You shall know no mercy until your task is done.”
They surrounded her, pressing in, the few survivors of the coven. Blonde Ailith and sultry Ethel. Red-haired Gertie, and the miller’s boy, Torr. Ingrid, badly wounded but still alive. “Mercy!” she cried out once again.
Ailith took something from the wood stove in the corner and raised her hand. There was a knife in it, the metal red from the heat. “We curse you, Rowan, by blood and by fire…”
The memory-vision faded. Del was disoriented for a moment, half sitting on a metal fire escape, half kneeling on beaten earth. She leaned her head forward between her knees until it stopped spinning and her breath no longer burst forth in jagged gasps. What was that? That wasn’t a memory, not from her human life. It was an old vision, ancient. From a time long past. Rowan, the blonde witch had called her.
What had Shade said at her half-remembered Gifting? Del had asked, “Are you going to kill me?” And the demon had answered, “Not this time.”
What did it mean? She stared desperately at the letters on her arm as though they might hold all the answers. Never. But her scars remained unhelpfully silent.
The door downstairs banged open. Del got up, her legs still a little shaky from the memory-vision, and went inside. “Ash?”
There was no answer. Del walked to the top of the spiral stairs. “Ash?” she called out again. And then she froze. Instead of Ash, a man stood just inside the door.
He tilted his head up toward her. “Ash isn’t coming.”
The man was big, tall and broad-shouldered. He had something of Ash about him, and his aura was a golden sheen in the cool dusk of the repair shop.
“You’re his father,” she guessed. “Deacon.”
“You can come down,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
She walked down slowly. Where was Ash? Had his father come to help? Why hadn’t he brought his son? Deacon was waiting, and he said nothing as she approached. Up close, she could see that Ash got his looks from his father. The same coppery hair, though here it was threaded with silver-gray. The same honey-brown eyes watching her, but this time with undisguised suspicion.
“Ash said you would help,” she said, breaking the silence. “He was waiting for you to get back so he could talk to you.”
“He was?” Deacon looked startled.
Del’s heart lurched. Something was wrong. “You have come to take me away, right? To help?”
“I’m afraid not.” Deacon’s voice was hard and uncompromising. “I don’t know what my son promised you, but he’s my subordinate and Hartford is under my jurisdiction. Your pack wants you back. You’re to go to Boston.”
“What? No!”
“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”
&nbs
p; “Did Ash tell you that I’m dead if I go back to Shade? Because I won’t kill for her. I won’t!” She looked around wildly, as though Shade were already here with all her demons at her side.
Deacon blinked at her outburst, dismay flickering across his face, though he recovered quickly and hardened his features. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. For the safety of my family, you need to leave.”
“She threatened you. Shade.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The answer was all over his face.
“Look,” she said, “do I have to go to Boston? Can’t I just catch some other bus away from here?”
“No.” Deacon was firm. “It doesn’t work that way, Adeline. You need to go to Boston. And you need to stay away from Ash. You can’t drag my boy into this. He’s all I’ve got left.”
“Fine.” Del’s voice came out dull, defeated. “I’ll go and pack.”
Her legs were lead as she climbed back up to the mezzanine. She stuffed the last of her things into her backpack and piled Ash’s books neatly on the desk. The door to the fire escape was still open. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe there was a way out of this. She quickly removed the cover to the air conditioning vent, the one she’d loosened on her first day. She pushed her backpack in, trying to work as quickly and quietly as she could. She wriggled in backward, pulling the cover after her. She jammed it in place and went as still as she could.
After a while, Deacon called out, “Adeline? Are you done?”
She heard his heavy steps on the staircase and then a pause. “Oh no.” The footsteps quickened and he came into view, hurrying to the fire exit. “Oh no, no. Blast!”
Del hardly dared to breathe, afraid to move an inch in case he saw her. But he went out on the fire escape and his steps clattered down. A car engine started up, and she heard it leave in a hurry. Had he truly gone? She didn’t dare move, and she waited until a good ten minutes had gone by to be absolutely sure he’d left. She was just about to wriggle out when the downstairs door slammed open.
Heart Blade: Blade Hunt Chronicles Book One Page 11