The Demon Creed (A Demon Outlaws Novel) (Entangled Edge)

by Paula Altenburg

  “Of course a demon is involved,” Hunter said. “Because half demons alone wouldn’t be trouble enough.” Although his outward demeanor remained calm and steady, Creed sensed his simmering anger and did not blame him for it. “It can’t enter the mortal world completely.”

  “What if it has some physical connection to this world?” Creed asked. “Could it enter the mortal world then?”

  Hunter and Airie exchanged a look that Creed hoped Nieve could not interpret. Any physical connection to the world that this demon had would involve either her or her son.

  “I don’t know,” Airie admitted. “But I sent them away once. I can do it again. They can’t bear the touch of goddess rain on their flesh.”

  “But goddess rain obviously has no effect on half demons, or they’d be gone, too.” Hunter’s expression soured. “Is there anything else I should know?” he asked Creed.

  “I think that’s everything.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the demon wants,” Airie said to Creed. “Not if Nieve doesn’t want him, too.”

  Compassion spilled from her eyes so that Creed had to look away. He had no time for self-pity right now. Airie turned to Nieve, who was sitting quietly, her attention fixed on the window and the barn rather than the conversation at hand. She thought only of Ash, Creed knew.

  “Do you want this demon? Have you claimed him already?” Airie asked her. “No one here will judge you for it.”

  “No.” The faraway expression of longing in Nieve’s green eyes faded as she responded to the question with unwavering resolution. A delicate pink brushed her cheeks. “All I want is my son.”

  Creed had known this from the beginning, so he couldn’t explain why her words cut him. He did not begrudge her the return of her child.

  He resented that his time with her was now almost over because Nieve no longer needed him. Airie and Hunter would let no harm come to either her or her son if she stayed in this area. She had some money. He would leave more for her. He still had one last grenade taken from the ruin that he could sell.

  Airie smiled at her husband, who was not at all appeased by her unconcerned manner. “A single demon, I can handle,” she assured him. “I have my father and mother to help protect me and our baby. And since the demon has no true claim on Nieve, it’s the least of our worries. The people in Cottonwood Fall are in far more danger. You should go.”

  “How far behind you do you think this Willow is?” Hunter asked Creed.

  Nieve suddenly stood. She reached for Creed, who was beside her, and steadied herself against his shoulder. Her eyes remained riveted on the window. Creed peered through the gleaming glass, wondering what had alarmed her, and saw a dull orange smear in the distance. Black smoke billowed skyward.

  The time for talk was over. Willow was already here.

  And it did not bode well for Cottonwood Fall.

  Hunter, too, turned to look. His expression darkened, if possible. Creed could well understand why he and Blade were good friends. Ruthlessness emanated from them both.

  “It seems the matter has been decided for me,” Hunter said. “It looks as if I’ll be helping the Godseekers, after all.”

  While Creed would be happy to have his help no matter how grudgingly offered, Nieve was his bigger worry. He did not like leaving her unprotected.

  Yet he had a duty. He had to go.

  “Stay here with the women,” he said to Hunter. “I’ll go alone.”

  “No,” Airie and Nieve said together.

  Nieve fell silent. Her eyes, green and anxious, remained on Creed. When he looked at her, she turned away. Disappointment scorched him. She had her son. She no longer wanted him.

  Airie reached for one of Hunter’s hands, taking it between hers. “You can’t stand back and let the town burn. If fire is Willow’s talent, and summoning demons, then I have better protection than Cottonwood Fall. They need the two of you more than we do.”

  “If it were just you, I wouldn’t worry at all,” Hunter said. He dragged his fingers through his blond hair. “But what about the baby?”

  Airie placed his palm on her round stomach. “See? All’s quiet. No contractions or anything. The baby’s not coming anytime soon.”

  Hunter stood there, his hand on their baby, for several long moments. Then he nodded.

  “Very well,” he said, and Airie smiled.

  Envy sideswiped Creed at the obvious affection they had for each other. This was how it should be between a man and a woman.

  The men started for the door. Creed paused at the foot of the front steps and looked back, because Nieve had followed him.

  She stood a few steps above him on the verandah, her fingers working the worn fabric of her skirt into pleats as she gathered her thoughts. Dusk heightened the paleness of her hair and the depth of her lustrous eyes. She looked as if she had something she wanted to say but could not find the right words, or perhaps did not want them overheard by Airie and Hunter.

  “I don’t want you in danger,” she finally said.

  His heart untwisted. The hold she had on him was frayed, but not yet completely severed. She simply could not decipher her emotions. Or more likely, was not used to doing so—which was understandable under the circumstances, and given her past.

  Perhaps that was for the best. He had no right to add to her worries. Not when she had found the one thing that meant the world to her and gave her hope for the future. More than anything else, Creed wished for her to have happiness in her life.

  “You forget who I am,” he said. “What I am. I’m not the one who’ll be in danger.”

  He left her standing there, and went to ready his hross and his weapons.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nieve watched as the men rode off. Soon they were nothing more than two black, moving masses in the lengthening twilight. When they disappeared entirely, swallowed by the tall grasses to either side of the road and a dip in the land, she returned to the kitchen.

  Airie had lit the lanterns and set a kettle of water on the stove to boil. Nieve resumed her position by the window.

  She knew Creed was right when he told her she needed to give Asher time. She should take comfort in the fact that her son recognized her. It was more than she could have hoped for, given his age.

  He had grown so big though, and it caused an enormous ache in her heart to see the proof of everything she had missed in his life. As she looked around Airie’s bright and beautiful kitchen, and thought of all that Airie was, Nieve could also not help but think she did not have anything of equal value to offer him.

  Except her love. The enormity of that could not be surpassed by anyone else. She had crossed the world to find him. She had crawled through the depths of depression and fought off mountains of fear and despair. She would not give him up again. She would provide for him as best she could, and what she could not offer, she would make up for by teaching him that material possessions did not matter. She’d once had them all. They had not imparted anything of true worth. The most valuable lessons had been taught to her by life and its hardships. She wanted Asher to grow into a good and decent person. She could teach him morals and ethics as well as anyone else, including Airie and Hunter.

  But even though she resented the place Airie had taken in Asher’s young heart, Nieve was also grateful that he had been loved.

  The black, cast iron kettle on top of the stove began a slow whistle. Nieve started to rise from her chair. “Let me get that for you.”

  Airie motioned for her to remain seated. A smile stretched across her stunning, perfect features, blindsiding Nieve, and for the first time ever, she felt as if she truly were plain and could never compare to such perfection. The other woman was every bit as breathtaking as the goddess rumor proclaimed her to be.

  “Thank you, but I’m stronger than you’d think,” Airie said.

  Nevertheless, as she lifted the hot kettle from the stove, she did so with both hands and great care. She poured the steaming water over fragrant w
ildflower leaves in a pretty ceramic pot sitting in the center of the table. She returned the kettle to the stove, then eased herself into a chair, her round belly pressing tight against the table’s edge.

  With a sharp pang, Nieve remembered her own pregnancy. Her final stages had been marked by eager anticipation, but also punctuated with bouts of abject terror.

  “Are you afraid?” she asked Airie, looking at her large stomach, then realized the question was far too intimate, and very inappropriate. “Forgive me,” she said. “That’s none of my business.”

  The thick black lashes around Airie’s eyes fluttered in understanding. She placed a hand on her belly. “I understand. And really, I’m not. Hunter’s the one who’s afraid. He’s seen children born in demon form before and I haven’t, but as long as it’s healthy, I’m not worried about me. Hunter understands that no matter what happens to me the baby is blameless for it, although there was a time when he wouldn’t have.” She reached for the teapot and the cups. Her eyes softened and became distant, and her hand stopped in midair as if she’d been caught by an almost forgotten but wondrous memory. “No matter what, this baby has a lot of family watching out for her.”

  It was odd, to be sitting here drinking tea with a woman who was not mortal. Airie had all of the compulsive allure of a demon—except with Airie, it was her kind and gentle nature that drew others to her. Men and women alike. Nieve could uncover no repressed horror or fear while in her presence. It took her a moment to understand why she did not.

  It was because Airie possessed the same type of allure that had drawn Nieve to Creed. The immortal blood in them brought out and enhanced all that was good about their mortal natures, not their demon.

  It was far more than demon allure that drew Nieve to Creed. This aching desire she had for him did not disappear when he was no longer near her, as it had with Asher’s demon father, because it was with her still.

  She would never forgive herself for the expression of hurt on his face when she told him to stay away from her son.

  Regret filled her. She wished she had told him before finding Asher that she loved him. Now that she had her son back, alive and well, Creed had no reason to believe he could ever be more than second best in her heart, and that was not true. He had his own place, one that was every bit as precious to her.

  She felt as if another piece of her had ridden off with Creed, and she was afraid it might not return to her. Unlike with Asher, if it did not, she would have no hope at all of retrieving it.

  Finding Asher sparked other, more troubling, memories. The demon had always called to her in these hours after sunset, becoming more insistent as the night wore on if she resisted. Foreboding settled around her in a way that did not happen when Creed was near. She had taken his protection, and his love, for granted. Now they were gone and she feared she would not get them back.

  The silence between the two women stretched to the point of awkwardness. Airie worried for Hunter, and even though Nieve knew that Creed could take care of himself, she feared for him, too.

  Abruptly, Airie’s eyes turned to twin pools of shimmering tears.

  “I won’t keep him from you,” she said. Nieve’s thoughts had been so caught up in Creed that it took her a second to understand Airie meant Asher. “He came to me at a time when I needed him.” Airie dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’d just lost the only mother I’d ever known, and was left with no one in the whole world who loved me. I truly believed Scratch was a gift to me from the goddesses. Giving him up won’t be easy. Please understand how much I love him.”

  Nieve’s resentment of Airie fled. She had not expected a woman who could literally take anything she wanted in this world to acquiesce to the wishes of another so easily.

  “Why do you call him Scratch?”

  Warmth glittered behind the tears in Airie’s eyes. “He was very dirty when we found him. He couldn’t tell us his real name so Hunter started calling him that, and it stuck. I’d planned to give him another one, a better one, but any time I thought of it, I forgot it again.” The smile in her eyes fluttered at the corners of her lips, although it remained tainted by a wistful sadness. “He has a way of turning people’s attention and thoughts from things when it suits him. I suppose he always knew you would come.”

  Nieve hoped that was true.

  Outside the open window, a murder of crows erupted noisily into the early evening air. Beyond them, spirals of smoke curled from the town in the distance, but the flames appeared to have dissipated. The telltale orange glow was gone, leaving nothing but the encroaching night.

  “Not knowing what happened to Ash was the worst thing imaginable for me,” Nieve said. “Finding out that he’s been cared for and loved makes all of the worry and fear unimportant. Thank you.”

  As many more questions as she would love to ask about her son, the conversation had now become a difficult one for Airie so Nieve tried to steer it in a different direction. She started to ask Airie a question about the town, and how she enjoyed living so far from where she was born, when the ruckus the crows continued to raise caused her to pause and think.

  She looked out of the window again, more closely, and the blood drained from her body. Standing in the yard, all alone, and with tiny, twin globes of fire clenched in her fists, was a woman.

  Nieve’s throat closed over as if it had been hammered shut.

  “What’s wrong?” Airie asked. She was much taller than Nieve and had no trouble seeing through the window into the dusty yard, and the paddock beyond it, from her sitting position. Her eyes, rich and brown and flecked with gold, still sparkling with tears, widened. “Is that Willow?”

  Nieve nodded, unable to form coherent words. She had no idea what they should do. Airie could not face the half demon. Not in her current condition. Nieve would never forgive herself if something happened to the baby she carried.

  She could see the speculation on Airie’s face as she considered what to do. Fear crawled into Nieve’s chest, burrowing deep. If Airie was anything at all like Creed she would not run and hide, as she should.

  And without Creed, Nieve, who was hardly brave, had no demon talents with which to help.

  …

  From their hiding place in the loft of the barn, Ash and Imp watched as Willow walked into the yard.

  She looked a lot like Airie, Ash thought, but not in a nice way. The mean woman had none of the feel to her that made Airie so special. Her eyes were hard and cold, not soft and warm with tiny sparks of fire. She did not look as if she knew how to laugh.

  Imp reached for his hand, her palm rough and warm. “Willow won’t hurt us,” she said to him, but he heard a tiny flicker of doubt in her voice. Imp was scared of her.

  While Airie knew better than to show any fear in front of Willow, Ash wasn’t as sure of his mother. He loved her a lot, but she was gentle and timid. He’d hoped the big man, Creed, would help make her stronger, but instead, he’d taken too great a care with her.

  Ash was okay with Creed looking after his mother because she deserved to be treated with kindness, and he planned to take good care of her, too, but right now, intentions weren’t going to do her any good.

  As much as he didn’t want to go into the demon boundary when he knew the one who searched for his mother was nearby, he could move faster when he was in it and he had to find Creed right away. His mother would look after Airie, but right after that, she was going to need him.

  Ash squeezed Imp’s fingers, letting her know what he intended to do so she could get ready to hide once they got there, because no one entered the demon boundary unprepared.

  “Remember,” he said to her. “If I ever get summoned to the boundary, you can summon me back. Give me some time. I’ll be okay for a bit. I can hide, too.”

  Then, holding tight to Imp’s hand, he let his demon cross over, dragging her with them.

  …

  The fire on the walls had been extinguished by the time they reached town.

&
nbsp; Creed wondered about that.

  As they moved through the near-empty streets, Creed sensed that Hunter was becoming more and more angry. That was because he grew quiet and watchful. He would have made a good assassin, Creed thought. He did not react without thinking—although he did like to provoke. Creed could hardly hold that idiosyncrasy against him.

  And Hunter did not exhibit fear. Instead, he beat it into submission.

  They found the sheriff across the street from the temple, crouched behind a watering trough, with his gun in his hand and several other weapons, including two rifles, nearby, as if he planned a long siege. He was an older man whose black hair was frosted with gray, and while tall, had a wiry build slowly going to fat around the middle.

  The temple in Cottonwood Fall was a simple building, constructed along the lines of the Old World churches Creed had seen in the ancient photos stored in the library of the Temple of Immortal Right. This one was single story, with a plain steeple and bell, and a pitched roof constructed of clay tile. Cottonwood Fall was as far from the goddesses’ and Godseeker mountains, and demon territory, as it was possible to be. The goddess boundary, which began in the mountains, extended behind the Borderlands. Creed had asked and been told that a man could walk for days and find himself right back where he started. No one had ever reached it. Therefore, this was not an especially devout region.

  The temple itself was in chaos, its heavy wooden double doors thrown wide. From inside came the sounds of glass breaking and wood being smashed.

  “I can’t say I’m especially fond of the goddesses, except for maybe one,” Hunter amended, in reference to Airie, “but I see no reason to destroy a perfectly good building. How many of them are there inside?” he asked the sheriff.

  “Ten.”

  “Are they armed?”

  The sheriff spat in the dirt. “I haven’t seen or heard any signs that they are.”