by Julie Kenner
“The Decimator?” I repeated. “Goramesh? That’s who the sword will kill?”
“That is the demon for whom it was forged, yes.”
“Not Abaddon?”
He looked curiously at me. “No. Not Abaddon.”
I licked my lips, trying to make sense of this shift in information. “The old lady said she didn’t know anything about a prophecy or about a sword.”
“She hesitated to trust you,” he said. “I hesitate, too.”
“Why?”
“Because of him. He has the demon within.”
I trembled, not liking the sound of that. “And me?”
“You? You are not unmarked. But you are clean.”
Didn’t that sound great? “So you trust me with this?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “If the demon is to die, it would seem we have no choice.” He took a step back, inclining his head a bit as if I were newfound royalty. “I do not know that you are our best hope. But you are most assuredly our only hope.”
I cringed. Not exactly a rousing vote of confidence. But apparently the most that I could hope for.
Twenty
The Hunter whose body and soul shall nurture and give life to the generation to come.
Pretty damn clear, all things considered. If Dukkar was right and the mathematical portion of the prophecy really did point to a geographical location in San Diablo, then I was the only Hunter here giving birth to anyone. Which meant two things—I was destined to strike down Goramesh with this sword, or die trying. And my daughter truly was the next generation of Hunter.
“Or Timmy,” Laura said, when I ran my reasoning past her.
We were sitting on the back porch, and now I looked sideways at her and scowled, not because her comment was foolish, but because she was right. Timmy didn’t have the genes of two Hunters, but that was hardly a strike against him. Most Hunters were recruited from normal families. Orphans like me who were trained by Forza.
“And the wheel keeps on spinning,” I said. “First I lose my daughter, and then I’m going to lose my son.”
“You haven’t lost Allie,” she said. “A long way from it, I’m betting.”
“I haven’t seen her since last night,” I retorted. “She’s locked in her bedroom, pissed at me for grounding her—”
“And pissed at herself for deserving it,” Laura finished.
“Do you really think so?”
“Kate, she saw a bloodbath. And she’s not a stupid girl. She has to know your rules were to protect her. She blew it. She almost got killed. Yeah, I think she’s hiding in her room licking her wounds. It’s not you she’s mad at, it’s herself. And maybe David, too.”
“That makes two of us,” I said.
“Go tell her what you’ve learned. I mean, this Goramesh thing is huge, right? Abaddon is all over the place, but the prophecy applies to Goramesh. Do demons work together a lot?”
“No,” I said. “They don’t. That’s what has me worried.”
“So let her help. Tell her what Dukkar told you. Show her the sword. Let her be involved the way you want her to be. With books and the computer and weapons training until she really is ready.”
“You’re a good friend, you know?”
“Hell, yes.”
I laughed. “And modest, too.”
She cocked her head toward the back door. “Go ahead. I’ll go home and do the same. Maybe this is the break we need. An intersection between Abaddon and Goramesh. I can’t imagine what, but maybe something will spring out if we all start looking for it.”
She was right, of course, and as she headed back to her house, I headed inside to talk to my daughter.
I was sidetracked by the ringing phone. I considered ignoring it, but when I checked the Caller ID and saw that the call originated in Italy, I answered.
“Father Ben must have called you,” I said, after Father Corletti and I went through the usual greetings.
“He is worried about you,” Father said. “As am I. My child, why did you not confide in me?”
I sank down onto the couch and hugged a pillow, feeling all of seven years old again. “I was ashamed, I guess. I didn’t want you to know I was so weak. I mean, he was dead. And by every law of nature, he should have stayed that way.”
“You were weak, Katherine, I will not deny that. But that weakness does not stain you any more than being human does.”
“Really?”
“I promise I speak the truth.”
“But what about Eric? I didn’t harm myself, but what about him? I opened the same door the demons use, and—”
“And he used the same portal. It is not common, I will grant you that, but it is not unheard of, either. Eric himself had done it before, yes? Moving into David’s body?”
“Yeah,” I said, hesitantly.
“You simply opened a portal to allow that to happen again. And because it was the Lazarus Bones, the injuries to the body healed. But Katherine, the key is that you allowed it. You did not force it. Whether he remembers it or not, Eric ultimately made the choice to come back. And he returned for the same reason you used the bones.”
“Love.”
“It is a powerful magic in and of itself, is it not?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Eric is no different than he was before. If anything, he is stronger for having your love to lift him up. Do not take that away from him. If anything, he will need your strength now more than ever.”
“What do you mean?”
He paused, but I pressed. “Father, what do you mean?”
“Only that there are difficult times ahead for Eric. For David. He is the same man, and yet he is also different. He must learn who he is, and to do that, he will need a rock to hold him in place. You’ve always been that rock, Katherine. Can you still be there for him?”
“I think so.” I ran Father’s words back through my head.
“So Father Ben was right? Eric’s temper and the risks he’s taken with Allie—those are just him trying to work it all out? To deal with what’s happened to him and to figure out how to be the father to a Hunter-in-training?”
“You didn’t harm Eric, Kate. Trust yourself. For that matter, trust your instincts.”
I smiled, because now he sounded like he was giving me a Forza 101 lecture. But my instincts were still tingling.
“Fair enough, but my instincts say you’re not telling me something.”
“There is one other thing,” Father Corletti admitted. “With the Lazarus Bones, the strength of the raiser imbues the raised, and they are forevermore connected, both in spirit and in some ways in body.”
“Which means?”
“Katherine, it means that David’s fate is now tied to your own. If you die, then David dies, too.”
“Dear God,” I murmured.
“I debated whether to tell you,” he admitted. “But you have the right to know. And, truly, does this knowledge change anything?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I am not,” he said. “Katherine, child, I have seen you and Eric together, and even now I hear the love in your voice when you speak of him. Is your life not already intertwined with his? Are you not forever linked with Eric, body and soul?”
I swallowed, closing my eyes as the truth of his words washed over me. “Father,” I said. “Sometimes, I think you see too much.”
"Goramesh?” Allie said, after I relayed what Dukkar had told me in the cathedral courtyard. “Wow.” She made a face, probably remembering the last time she’d been up close and personal with Goramesh and his minions. Not exactly the best summer on record for either her or for Timmy.
“I wanted to bring you up to speed,” I said, which wasn’t entirely accurate since I’d mentioned nothing to her about my conversation with Father Corletti. “You need all the information you can get if you’re going to burn through the research and help me find answers.”
“You’re still going to let me help?” she asked, he
r voice small.
“Do you want to?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then yeah,” I said. “You can help. Maybe you can figure out why Abaddon’s minions are worried about the sword when it’s Goramesh who can be struck down by it.”
She took the sword off the bed where I’d laid it and hefted it in two hands. “Doesn’t look like anything special,” she said.
“Mystical things often don’t.”
“Right,” she said. “Okay, so let’s think.” She crossed to her desk and came back with a spiral notebook filled with pink paper. “Clues,” she said, then started writing and talking at the same time.
I tucked my leg under me and looked over her shoulder as she wrote.
“Vengeance meets revenge,” she said.
“Goramesh and Abaddon,” I said, the reference clear now that we knew that these two high demons were hanging around San Diablo.
“So what is The One?”
“A higher demon they’re trying to conjure?” I suggested.
“Like a trapped demon they’re trying to release?” Allie said, obviously calling on her own practical demon-hunting experience.
“Maybe,” I said. To be honest, I really wasn’t sure.
“At any rate, it’s a clue. So it stays on the sheet.”
“The thing the gypsy lady said,” I continued. “ ‘In the shadow of the Lord.’ ”
“Right,” Allie said, dutifully writing it down. “And the bit about the hallowed eve when the sanctified blood flowed. Oh! And the nighttime. What was it? When day turns into night?”
" ’Falls into,’ ” I corrected. " ’And one shall augment the other,’” I said, closing my eyes to aid my memory. “ ‘And the prophecy shall be no more.’ ”
“What does that mean? You can’t kill Goramesh after all?”
“Or maybe it means that’s when I do kill him.”
She looked at me, eyes eager. “I like that idea.”
“Honestly, so do I.”
“So can you think of anything else?”
I shook my head. “I think you’ve got it covered.” I slid off the bed and headed for her door.
“Mom?”
“What, baby?”
“I’m sorry.” She licked her lips, then looked down at her feet. “I knew I shouldn’t go—not just to Daddy’s, but patrolling and all that, too. But I really wanted—”
“Your dad,” I finished. “I know, baby. You’re not the only one who’s sorry. I should have moved heaven and earth to get you guys time together. Forgive me?”
Her eyes widened a little with surprise. “Sure.”
“Good.”
“I love you, Mom. You really are the best, you know?”
I smiled, my throat tickly with tears. “I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I try.” Right then, in fact, I was going to try a little harder.
I blew her a kiss and left her to her research. Then I went downstairs, drew in a breath, and picked up the phone. David answered on the first ring, not with a hello, but with an apology.
“No,” I said. “That’s my line. I should have listened from the beginning and let you and Allie have your time together. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I was afraid and making excuses for pulling away. But I can’t. I’ll never be able to pull away from you. We have to figure out a way to make this work.
“You were afraid?” he repeated. “Of me?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I tilted my head back, trying to order my thoughts. “Of us. Of my life. Of what was going to happen to it now that you’re back. But I ended up hurting you and Allie, and I’m sorry.”
“I should never have taken her out,” he said.
“Well, I’m not going to argue about that,” I said, and when he laughed, I knew we were back on track. “More’s happened,” I said, then filled him in on my visit from Dukkar at the cathedral.
“You have the sword now?”
“Yup.” I’d left it in Allie’s room, but I figured it was safe up there. At the very least, Stuart wouldn’t find it, as he considered her room a public health hazard and only entered in full hazmat gear. “And apparently it’s Goramesh I’m destined to bring down. Not Abaddon.”
He whistled. “Do you think Goramesh knew about this before? When he came to San Diablo for the Lazarus Bones?”
“I’m thinking not,” I said. “I ran into my share of minions then, and none mentioned a sword.”
“That could be a good research angle, then,” he said, slipping into academic mode. “It’s only been a few months. Research where Goramesh has turned up since you defeated him, and maybe we can find a clue as to what he’s up to. And see if his whereabouts intersect Abaddon’s.”
“That’s the best plan I’ve heard so far,” I said. “You game for playing research dude?”
“Absolutely.”
I waited a beat, thinking about my words before saying them. “And do you want overnight company to help you out?”
“Love it, but wouldn’t Stuart be a little irritated if you spent the night with another man?”
“Not me,” I said. “Allie.”
Silence.
“Eric? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I’d love some overnight help.”
“We’ll be over in an hour,” I said. “I’ll tell Stuart she’s staying over at a friend’s. And David? Let’s forgo the patrolling, okay?”
“Lesson learned,” he said. “This is an inside visit only. And Kate?” he added, his voice filled with both relief and sadness. “Thank you.”
With Allie at Mindy’s that night (or so the story went), Stuart and I spent the evening cuddled on the couch with our little boy, indulging him with a bowl of popcorn and the full-length Curious George movie. A toddler’s idea of heaven. And, I have to admit, being curled up in my husband’s arms wasn’t bad, either.
“Bernie and I are going to talk to a few lenders next week about financing the house,” he said at one point, drawing a dirty look from Timmy. “You’re still okay with it?” he finished, in a much-lower voice.
“I trust you,” I assured him. “If you tell me we can make it work, then I’m all for giving it a shot.”
“Financially, I think we’ll be okay. Can we handle the rest of it? You and me, I mean,” he said, examining my face. “Real estate isn’t exactly a low-stress hobby.”
“We’ll muddle through,” I assured him.
“I love you, you know,” he said.
“I know.” I snuggled closer. “I love you, too.” I drew in a breath, remembering my assurance to Laura that I was going to tell Stuart everything on Wednesday night. And here Wednesday was, and I wasn’t talking.
I needed to open my mouth and confess. I knew that. But somehow, the words wouldn’t come. It had been—to put it mildly—one hell of a week, and everywhere I turned, I saw demons. Everywhere, that is, except Stuart. With him, I saw only my life and my house and a normal evening in suburbia.
Sue me, but I didn’t want to give that up.
Tomorrow pressed down on me, demanding confessions and truths. But right then . . .
Right then, I wanted the fantasy.
So I spent the evening with two of the men in my life, snuggling and being silly, even while my mind whirred, wondering how all the clues fit together, fearing another demon would burst in to try and take the sword, and feeling an utter sense of helplessness because I had no idea what Goramesh and Abaddon were up to. Or, for that matter, when.
I kept the worries and fears hidden in the night, but they came out to haunt me in restless dreams, and I tossed and turned so much that Stuart woke me twice to pull me close and murmur soft words.
I woke up in the morning to a relatively empty house—me and Timmy and a note from Eddie that he was catching a lift from Stuart to the library. A rare treat in my world, but today the silence weighed on me, reminding me of the answers I didn’t have and the anger that was still approaching.
I called D
avid, and felt a little lump form in my throat when both he and Allie thanked me for arranging the overnighter. They hadn’t found any answers yet, but Father Ben had messengered them over a box of books, and they were settling down in front of the table right then.
“I can send Allie home if you want,” David said. “Or I can keep her here today and drop her by after dinner. I’ll even drop her at Laura’s if that will make your cover story more plausible.”
“Sure,” I said, feeling foolishly left out, but not really knowing what to do about that. We weren’t a threesome anymore, and no matter how sad that made me, I had my trade-offs.
“Like you,” I said to Timmy as I scooped him up and carried him outside. I watched him play like a wild thing, even throwing a ball for him to kick and chase, and getting down on hands and knees with him to draw giant chalk pictures on the back patio.
“I love you, Mommy,” he said at one point, tossing his chubby arms around my neck.
I pulled him close, smothering him with hugs and kisses. “I love you, too, buddy.” And more than anything, I wanted to keep him safe. I didn’t know how, though, and answers weren’t coming my way, even with my team of crack researchers burning up the books and the Internet.
There I was—a big fat prophecy hanging around my neck—and I didn’t have a single idea what to do about that.
Not one of my more stellar moments.
“Have you talked to Father Ben today?” Laura asked me when she came over for coffee and Easter egg stuffing after lunch.
“I talked to him yesterday,” I admitted, “after I left your place. But we didn’t talk about research. I tried to reach him today, but no answer. I’m wondering if he had to go back out to the desert to help Holy Trinity with their Easter preparations. His cell never seems to work when he’s out there.”
“Maybe,” Laura said. “But it probably means you can’t count on him for much in the way of research.”
“During Holy Week, there wasn’t much he could do anyway. He was pretty booked twenty-four-seven. Besides, isn’t that why I’ve got you and Allie and David?”
She tilted her head looking at me. “Father Ben helped, huh?”