by Lee, Rachel
Sheila made a sound, struggled against her bond, then settled when Tommy bent over her, reassuring her it wouldn’t be much longer. Again the haziness filled the girl’s eyes.
And something approaching hatred filled Yvonne.
“Vonnie?” Tommy drew her attention back him. “Come stand over here.”
“Why?”
“You’ve marked your presence in the center of the circle. Now you need to stand on the path.”
“What path?”
He pointed to one of the lines. “Right there. Just do it, okay?”
“Okay.” She managed an indifferent shrug, as if she thought this was all pretend. She moved along a chalk line until she stood between two points of the star, almost directly on the chalk line.
“That’s good,” Tommy said.
The chant around her was growing stronger now, and the hair began to stand up on the back of her neck. A chill trickled through her until her skin felt like ice.
The chanting seemed to hesitate for a moment, and she turned to look toward the center of the pentagram. What she saw made her heart climb into her throat. The floor there seemed to glow as if it were on fire, yet it was not burning.
Oh, my God! She could no longer deny the reality of any of this. She turned back to Tommy and saw him grinning.
“Tommy, what…”
“It’s working,” he said. “You’ll see. But don’t try to step out of the pentagram now. It’s been sealed.”
“What does that mean?”
“You could die,” whispered a voice from behind her. She swung around again and saw a figure emerging from the firelike glow on the floor. Before her eyes, it grew until it was as tall as any man, maybe a little taller. It smiled at her. “So you are mine,” it said.
Her mouth had turned as dry as the Sahara. She couldn’t have formed a word to save her life. Her fingers tightened around the chain necklace in her pocket, seeking strength from it somehow, but all she wanted to do was run for her life.
The figure wavered as if it were flame itself, but did not take on completely physical form. It smiled at her, but there was no gentleness in it. And then its gaze leaped to Tommy.
“Finish it,” it said.
“Yes,” Tommy whispered. He turned, holding a knife she hadn’t seen before and leaned over his sister. Yvonne couldn’t stifle a horrified cry as he cut Sheila’s wrist and blood spilled forth.
Tommy bent and pulled a cracked cup from the floor and caught his sister’s blood in it. Then he turned and hurled it toward the monster in the middle of the pentagram. “A virgin’s blood,” he cried.
The demon let out a roar and before Yvonne’s horrified gaze grew more solid. “Now her,” it said, pointing at Yvonne. “Mark her for me.”
Tommy turned back to his sister, dipping his fingers in blood. Yvonne felt rooted, unable to move, horror beyond words seizing her.
Then she felt the movement of air nearby, heard the barest sound of Creed’s voice.
“Yvonne. Now. We can’t enter....”
For what seemed like endless moments she still couldn’t move, frozen with both terror and horror. And then she saw Tommy moving toward her, his bloody hand extended.
Only one way out of this now. The realization plummeted into the very soul of her being. She turned before Tommy reached her, forced a smile onto her face and said pertly, “Don’t you want to mark me yourself?”
Was that her? Was that really her? Apparently so because the demon’s gaze fastened to her, and its smile broadened. From somewhere she found the courage to walk toward it, still smiling. “I mean,” she managed to say in a voice that quavered only slightly, “if you really want me, make me yours yourself.”
From above, Creed watched and listened with amazement. Yvonne had figured it out. From somewhere deep within, she had found impressive reserves of strength. She had evaded Tommy’s marking and now challenged the demon himself.
His entire body tightened with fear for her. The challenge she had just made might be her undoing, and there wasn’t a single damn way for him to get to her to protect her.
He could have cut off his own head right then. How had they allowed this to happen? How had they failed so badly that one mortal woman now faced down the Prince of Demons all by herself?
The only thing he could promise himself was that if anything happened to Yvonne, neither Tommy nor any of his friends would survive this night. He would tear them to shreds, and he’d relish every moment of it.
The demon’s head reared at Yvonne’s challenge, then it laughed. That laughter seemed to free Yvonne from the last of her fear. The thought of Sheila bleeding helplessly behind her fueled her rage. And Creed had said they couldn’t enter the circle. She’d heard him. Not quite last night’s plan, but whatever.
She was the only one left who could do it.
She put a hand on her hip and tried to mimic women she had seen who swayed their hips in exaggerated enticement when they walked.
“You’re a big guy,” she said admiringly. At least she hoped it sounded admiring. “I’ll bet you’re powerful, too.”
“I can promise you riches, travel, a life in palaces,” Asmodai said. “I can place the world at your feet.”
“I don’t want the whole world,” she said, moving closer. “But a part of it would be nice.”
The demon seemed to have fixated on her now. His dark eyes never left her, even as his body grew steadily more solid, emerging from the fiery light at the center of the pentagram.
She paused. “I won’t get hurt if I come too close, will I?”
“Trust me. Not a hair on your head will get hurt.”
She hesitated again, pretending to be unsure, gripping the necklace in her pocket. “So you take care of your women?”
“You can have anything you want within reason. And there’d be only one woman. You.”
“Hmm. Better than Tommy.”
Again the demon laughed. “Much better,” he promised.
Moving now, she walked toward that creature and at the last instant yanked the necklace out. With every last ounce of courage she had, she grasped it in both hands, still concealing the Tetragrammaton in her fist.
“But we’ve never even kissed,” she said. “What if I don’t like it?”
“I promise you will.” It leaned toward her, smiling, almost fully physical now.
Her time was nearly up, she realized. She leaned toward it, as if anticipating the kiss, then raised her hands as if she were going to embrace it.
It saw the necklace.
As it shrieked its rage, she managed to loop it over its head.
The roar of pain that escaped it was deafening. It tugged at the necklace but couldn’t pull it off.
“Traitor!” it shrieked. It pointed a finger at Tommy. “You’ll pay.”
Almost as if a hurricane blew through the room, the five people at the points of the star fell over, crumbling to the floor and groaning. Three vampires were suddenly there, manhandling them, tossing them away like rag dolls.
And then Creed, beautiful wonderful Creed, gripped Tommy and lifted him right off his feet. “You,” Creed growled, “should join your master.”
Tommy’s eyes grew huge with terror. “No! No!”
“I think so.” With a snap of his arm, Creed threw Tommy into the circle and straight at the demon.
“Tell him, Yvonne. You command him now. Tell him.”
Yvonne drew herself up, looking at the furious demon. Tell him? Then she remembered. “Go back to the pit you came from, and don’t ever, ever come back.”
Another roar rent the night, but it faded rapidly as the demon started shrinking back into wherever it had come from. But it was clutching Tommy as if he were a prize.
A thought occurred to Yvonne. “What if he gets Tommy to remove the necklace?”
That galvanized Creed. Now that the circle was broken, he could evidently enter it. He sped to the very center and grabbed Tommy, yanking him from the demon’s clutch
ing arms.
Asmodai gave another roar, but it was lost in the distance as he vanished. Then, with a pop, that strangely glowing space in the air vanished.
“Let’s finish it,” Jude said swiftly. He pulled out holy water and began to sprinkle it over everyone involved, most especially the five who had formed the circle. All the while he chanted in Latin, and the members of the circle screamed in pain at every drop of the holy water.
Luc, meanwhile, was binding Sheila’s arm, his face a rictus of effort not to drink what was flowing so freely from the girl.
And then Creed’s arms closed around her, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe. “You were magnificent, Yvonne. Magnificent.”
She tipped her head back, still full of adrenaline and, as a result, a bit of annoyance. “What the hell happened?” she demanded. “I wasn’t supposed to do all of that. You were supposed to!”
“We couldn’t cross the circle. We hadn’t expected that. We simply could not cross it.”
“But you just did!”
“It broke when we knocked the others away, but we didn’t dare risk that until Asmodai was bound. Something about the human pentagram… Something for study later. Right now, I just want to get you out of here.”
Jude interrupted. “Uh, I beg your pardon, old chap, but I need some help. I’ve never had to do five exorcisms at once.”
“What about Sheila?” Yvonne demanded. “She needs a hospital.”
“I’ll take her,” Luc said. “She’s so drugged she’ll never be sure she didn’t dream it.”
“And what about him?” Yvonne asked, looking down at the quivering, terrified mass that had once been the hyperconfident Tommy.
“Well,” Creed said coolly, “I could rip his head off right now. I wouldn’t mind in the least.”
“Hmm. That sounds tempting.” And for an instant it did as she glanced at Sheila. But as the adrenaline began to wear off, she knew she had to live with herself, and she knew she couldn’t ask Creed to do something he would hate himself for. No matter how tempting. “I don’t think so. We need a better way to deal with him.”
Creed sighed. “All right. You might as well see the rest of what I can do.”
As she watched in amazement, Creed lifted Tommy from the floor by the front of his shirt, holding him in one hand. Tommy’s eyes nearly bugged out. Then he spoke, his voice deepening, taking on a timbre that was not quite human.
“You will forget this night. You will forget every stupid little plan you had to be a success without working for it. You will feel shame and guilt for having hurt your sister even though it was an accident.”
“Yes…”
“And if I ever find out you’ve dabbled in the black arts again, or come anywhere near Yvonne, hell is going to look like a day at the beach. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes…”
Then Creed tossed him to the floor. “I may reinforce that later, but for now…” He brushed his hands against his slacks. “For now I’m done with him.”
Chapter 13
They finished the exorcisms just in time to get back before daylight. Creed wrapped her in a blanket and carried her in his arms the entire way. Yvonne, despite the night’s terrors, had only one wish: that he’d never put her down.
The dawn painted the eastern sky a faint pink as Yvonne and Creed slipped into his condo. Without pause, they headed for his bedroom and locked themselves within.
He hugged her tight, then tumbled onto the bed with her fully clothed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t stay awake.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
But as she watched death steal over him, she felt all too wide awake herself. The night had left her feeling chilled to the bone, weakened after all the fear and adrenaline. She lay wide awake staring into the dark that preserved him, her entire worldview shattered as surely as if it were a glass she had dropped on the floor.
Things she hadn’t believed in such a short time ago had become real. Too real. As she lay there, she wondered if she should try to reassemble her old life, or move on into this new world.
She could probably go back. In a few weeks or months, this would all seem like some kind of dream, a nightmare, scarcely real. And out there in the ordinary daytime world, everything would reinforce her old views. She knew that.
But that would mean giving up Creed. Wiggling around, she turned on the dim bedside lamp and looked at him. How could she wonder if she even had a choice? Maybe all she was to him was that “tempting morsel” he’d called her. Maybe he wanted nothing from her beyond a mating and a drink.
Maybe he would be glad to see her walk away and leave him safe in the isolated tower he had built for himself away from temptations he loathed.
Maybe he loathed the urges she awoke in him. How could she know, unless she asked? And she didn’t know if she dared to ask, because she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
Anxiety ran through her every cell, and she thought she’d never be able to sleep. The night had taken a toll, however, and finally, utterly exhausted, she slipped into dreams, many of them scary, all of them filled with an aching sense of impending loss.
Creed woke first. The heat of Yvonne curled up so closely against him, her arm snug around him, held him suspended in those fiery moments of resurrection and then in a heaven only a vampire could know: human warmth.
After last night, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had not wanted to stay with him any longer. She had glimpsed his capabilities last night, could no longer even remotely think he was simply an odd kind of human. Whatever questions Luc’s abduction of her hadn’t answered, his own behavior had.
He’d been ready to kill for her, and he’d made no bones about it. That alone should have been enough to send her on her way.
But perhaps she was just frightened enough to need the comfort of his protection for a little while longer?
She stirred, murmuring, then he watched the amazing moments of her awakening, the soft flutter of her green eyes as she slowly emerged from slumber. And then she smiled.
“Are you all right?” he asked huskily. Last night would have made a wreck out of most people.
“I’m fine.”
But he saw a shadow creep into her gaze, even as her arm tightened around him. “Yvonne?”
She bit her lower lip and dropped her gaze. At once he felt a pressure in his chest unlike anything he’d felt since he had realized that staying near his family would make him a threat. That for their sakes he had to walk away.
“Yvonne,” he said again, his tone almost imploring. “Have I scared you beyond bearing?”
Her head jerked and suddenly those bright green eyes met his again. “No! Oh, no, Creed. What made you think that?”
“I get the distinct feeling you’re not happy.”
“Oh.” A small sigh escaped her and she closed her eyes.
“Just tell me,” he demanded. “Just say it, whatever it is. Don’t go away like that.”
“I’m afraid,” she said finally, in a small voice.
He couldn’t have turned colder if the death sleep had taken him in the frozen Arctic wastes. He could barely force the words out. “Of me.”
“No! I told you it’s not that.” Her eyes seemed to spark.
“Then what? I told you I’m not a mind reader. But I smell fear and worry and sorrow all over you. Please, just tell me.”
She rolled away from him, tightening his chest even more with her rejection. God, how had he been such a fool as to come to care to this degree? He knew better than to think many mortals could tolerate his kind except for the sexual thrills he had refused to fully give her.
Now he saw rejection in the way she pulled from him and gave him her back. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and knew that he had fallen into that place every vampire tried to avoid: he had claimed her. Without any assurance whatever, despite his efforts to avoid it, he had claimed her. And he had claimed her while ensuring that she was still free t
o leave him.
His future, once nearly endless and unwanted, suddenly shrank to a few moments or hours. When she left he’d have two choices: to stalk her endlessly, or to seek mercy. And he knew which option he would choose. Pain seared him all the way to whatever soul he had left.
She sat up, her back still toward him. “This is embarrassing,” she said, her voice sounding both thick and weak. “Creed…”
“Yes?” He steeled himself to hear what she really thought of him, and plenty of ugly words sprang to his mind. He knew them well because he’d often applied them to himself.