Duncan re-sheathed his blade. “You saw what I did to the dead on Smyrna. You have to check every one.”
Mason nodded. “We were looking for survivors and as we approached the church this kid ran out, arms waving, shouting gibberish.”
“He has a harelip.” She stood. “He probably had a speech impediment.”
“I know. Now, I know. I hesitated calling ‘no-fire’ and Lanscome”—he pointed to one of the dead men—“opened fire.” He shook his head. “Soon as we saw the blood we knew. And someone started laughing. Laughing like a fucking lunatic watching a puppet show.” He pointed off to the side near a tree. “The Harbinger—that’s what they call Crowley—stood there. The Nephilim started to wake.”
“That’s how you lost your men. Fighting the Nephilim?” He was lucky as hell to have survived.
He shook his head. “He made one of those things again . . . a window . . . a portal . . . and they all got sucked into it.”
She stood and walked to the bodies. The position of them—not sprawled out as if they’d been fighting or running—dropped in place as if they’d been standing still. The single gunshots to the head. As if they’d been executed. “What happened?”
“I raised my weapon.” He pointed to the tree where Crowley had stood and his mouth turned down. “I saw his fucking eyes, I couldn’t miss the shot. I ordered them all to fire.”
“Jesus.” Duncan met her gaze. “Crowley got to them.”
Goddess bless him, Crowley had made him shoot his own men.
“The son of a bitch said, ‘No.’ That’s it. I couldn’t fire.”
“He’s a mesmerist talent, Mason,” Duncan said. “It’s not your fault.”
“He said, ‘I am your commanding officer and you will obey my commands.’”
Trina tried to call him back from the memory. “Mason.”
“He said, ‘You will destroy the enemy. Do you understand?’ And even though in my head I screamed, ‘Fuck you!’ I opened my mouth, and said, ‘Yes, sir.’ We all did.”
“Look at me!”
Mason obeyed. Hell, Duncan’s shout had made her jump to attention.
“The rules of your reality have changed and you can do one of two things now: Either put the gun to your head and end it, or you walk away with a new perspective—knowing the full ramifications of this new world and use that knowledge to help your people.”
“This morning they asked me to head up a new agency focused on . . . this new world.”
Duncan folded his arms over his chest. “Explain.”
“The government has acknowledged two problems in recent days, one publicly, one privately. The first, the Nephilim—we’re losing that war right now.”
“That’s because you keep feeding their numbers, you idiot. A human, once bit, adds to their army. Quit sending people in after them. Put a sunset-to-sunrise curfew in place. No one stays in public spaces at night—only private property. Let us take care of the rest.”
“That’s the problem they’ve acknowledged privately. They’ve known about daemons since the Gulf War when we started using infrared on a regular basis.”
Her jaw damned near hit the floor. She had no idea—but Duncan didn’t look surprised at all. He nodded. “And?”
“And, if you’re willing to offer us a sign of peace, we’d like to work with you in bringing the Nephilim to an end.”
Duncan met Trina’s gaze before turning back to Mason. “What constitutes a ‘sign of peace’?”
“They had several suggestions . . . but after tonight . . . .” He met Duncan’s gaze. “I want Crowley.”
“As if I can hand him over on a silver platter? Maybe you haven’t—”
“Duncan!” She glanced at Mason. “We need to discuss this for a moment.”
Mason motioned for them to step away.
She pulled Duncan out of hearing distance. “Look, we’re going to summon Crowley. We’ll have him in a day or two.”
“He’s a mesmerist.”
“We’re going to exorcize the Watcher from him.”
He scowled. “He needs to die before he causes anyone else harm.”
“I agree.” She stuck her finger out and poked him in the chest. “Quit arguing and listen.”
He huffed out a sigh.
“One way or another, Crowley’s going to die. What if we put a blindfold on the son of a bitch and hand him over? Give the humans their peace offering, a sense that they have control . . . he still dies. It’s done. Cake baked and eaten, too.”
He kissed his teeth, glancing over his shoulder. “He’s a slippery bastard. Don’t trust him.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Mason?”
“Crowley. He never could keep his damn trap shut. He’ll find a way to stir the pot.”
Trina smiled. “You’re forgetting I have Chaos Magic. I can get into his head, scramble things up enough to make him incoherent.”
He tipped his head to the side, bottom lip poking out in that thoughtful expression that meant he was considering her idea. “Not bad, Duchess. All right.”
They headed back to Mason, and Duncan said, “You have a deal. After talking things over, I realize we could have him to you within a week.”
A week?
“Maybe sooner.”
Ah, he wanted to pad their time.
“In exchange,” Duncan continued, “I want the ability to hand-pick a couple of the daemons who’ll become your advisors.”
“Advisors?” Mason scoffed. Then stared at the tree where Crowley had been. “You give me Crowley, it’s a deal.”
They shook hands.
Trina waited while Mason gave Duncan his contact details and a sense of calm washed over her. Everything would be all right. Not the same as before, not by any means, but maybe better. Right now, Harry was being aged. The coven was together and stronger than ever. They had a deal with the humans and a plan for both Crowley and the Watcher possessing him. She just needed to get Duncan alone long enough to apologize to him.
Yeah, everything was starting to look up.
Chapter 29
Machon
As soon as they returned to the Citadel, Duncan rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck. He was tired as hell and they still had a Watcher to fight. Somehow, he didn’t expect it to be half as easy as the coven did.
“I should go find James and fill him in on the deal we made.” He opened his eyes to find a room full of daemons watching them.
Sort of. Some wouldn’t meet his gaze. Others smiled hesitantly, as if they were all waiting for something. Lilith shoved a young guy forward. He tripped over his own feet, straightened, and glanced at his watch.
His gaze narrowed on the handsome lad. Blond hair, electric-blue eyes. Something about him . . . .
George came bounding across the floor, crawled straight up the guy’s leg as if he had tiny suckers on the bottom of his feet, over his chest and around his broad shoulders where he perched himself. Like he did with . . . .
“Harry?”
“Figured we’d get it over with while you were gone. Less drama.”
Jesus. His throat grew thick and his eyes stung. This must be what it felt like when you realized your kid had grown up and didn’t need you anymore. He cleared his throat, forced the emotions away and made himself smile. “Glad to see you outgrew that awkward stage.”
Nervous laughter rolled through the hall.
Christ. He didn’t want to embarrass the lad. And he sure as hell didn’t need to know how fucking hurt he felt. Everybody seemed to be pushing him away. “I’m glad it worked.” He slapped him on the back, knowing a hug would trigger Harry. Hell, a hug would make him cry like a baby all over the lad. “Congratulations.”
Everyone started talking at once, their attention turned to their own conversations.
Harry scratched George under the chin. “You sure you’re not pissed?”
“’Course not, pup.” He couldn’t even look at him. “Now that it’s done, I can see I worr
ied for nothing.”
One of the women called Harry away and the lad left him standing there alone.
A hand curled around his shoulder and Trina walked around his side. “He looks good, right?”
Good? The lad looked like he should be on the cover of GQ. “Yeah. He’ll be a hit with the ladies for sure.” He turned and left the keep, rubbing his chest as he went.
“Dunc?”
He kept walking. He’d be damned if anyone would see him tearing up. That’d be a hell of a way to show her how fucking strong he was.
“Duncan.”
“I’m not mad.” He waved her away. “Just need some air.”
Instead of stopping, the sound of her footsteps got closer as she picked up her pace.
“Jesus, Trina. Let me be a minute.”
The footsteps disappeared.
She appeared right in front of him, forcing him to stop. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Dunc.” She wrapped him in her arms.
“Something in me eye, is all. I’m fine.”
“Quit trying to hide from me. You’re upset. I didn’t think you’d be upset once you saw him and knew he was okay.”
“I’m not. He looks good. The coven did good.” His voice cracked and he tried to pull away. She clung like moss to stone.
“Damn you.” With nowhere to go, he gave up. Pulled her up tight in his arms and buried his face in her hair to hide his shame.
She patted him. Stroked his neck and cooed silly crap in his ear. Daft woman. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He shrugged. “It’s stupid.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“He’s grown up. He’s damn near as big as me and what if I didn’t teach him right? What if I didn’t tell him everything he needs to know? He’s scarred, you know, from what he’s been through. What if I didn’t help him enough to keep him from turning bad?”
“He’d never disappoint you, Duncan. You must know that.”
No, Harry would never disappoint him. He’d have to dust the lad if he did. “He doesn’t need me no more.”
“That’s bullshit. He’s always going to need you. He can’t talk to his own father. When he meets his first girl, he’s going to want advice. He’ll come to you. When he has his first fight, he’s gonna come to you. When he tries to find work or buy a house or any of a million other things, he’s still gonna come to you.”
“Which is why this is stupid.”
She pulled away enough to wipe his tears away with his own handkerchief and grinned. “Duncan, you’re experiencing what every parent on the planet . . . well, on our planet at least, experiences when their kids grow up and leave.” She searched his face. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.”
“Lilith said, when they did the transformation, they made him state his name—”
“When did she tell you this?” They hadn’t spoken since they’d come back.
“We have our link back. She told me telepathically.” She cupped his face in her hands. “He gave them the name Harrison Cayce Sinclair.”
Jesus. The tears started all over again and this time he laughed. “I’m a fucking watering pot.”
She hugged him. “He’s lucky to have a man that loves him so much.”
“I’m all right.” He sniffed. Wiped his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Can I talk to you about something else?” She pulled away.
“Yeah.”
“When the coven came, I realized that Augustina was right.” She tipped her head back to look at the sky and her eyes reflected the starlight. “I kept telling myself they were still the way they used to be as kids. Still angry and resentful of all the trouble I caused.”
What was she trying to tell him? “So you’re not worried anymore they’ll think less of you for having me as a mate.”
Her gaze shot to his. “What? I never said that.”
“You implied—”
She frowned. “I’m not telling you anymore stories, Duncan. You’re horrible at figuring out the moral. I implied that they always thought I ruined everything I’ve been given.”
His gaze narrowed. “And . . . you’re worried that . . . ”
“That I’ll hurt you, you crazy person.” She paced away. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you and I care too much to let that happen.”
“You’re hurting me more by pushing me away, love.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She bit her lip. “I do want to be with you.”
She was coming around. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but at least she’d admitted to wanting him. If he let her have her space, she’d be his soon. “Come on, Duchess. Let’s go back in before Harry starts worrying.”
Chapter 30
Duncan tipped his chair back on its rear legs, half listening as James, Harry, and Doom chatted. Everything was starting to fall into place. Harry got his wish—he looked his age. Trina and the coven were getting along. She had her link back with Lilith. She finally admitted she wanted to be with him.
She’d wandered off a while ago and with a little luck, right about now she’d be walking into her room . . . their room. He grinned.
“Duncan!” Harry waved a hand in front of his face.
“Sorry, wha—?”
A siren went off, the high-pitched squeal rolling though the building, echoing off the walls.
At the same time an image flashed through his mind. Trina pulling away from a wall. A man with a scar running down the center of his face pulled his fist from her face. She stared at him. At the web tattoo on his neck.
His smile vanished. He glanced around the room, searching for Trina.
Doom stood. “Someone intending harm has entered the building.”
“D?”
“When Trina’s sleeping, I see her dreams.” But she shouldn’t be asleep, he’d seen her only a few minutes ago. Was she purposely trying to communicate with him? He stood to better see around the room. “And I’m seeing a web tattoo on a scarred man’s neck.”
“A Sentry.” Harry stood beside him. “She left the hall a few minutes ago, I don’t think she’s come back.”
In the vision, she walked backward, through a doorway, into a hall. Jesus, she was replaying events backward. The bastard must’ve knocked her out cold. “Which way?”
Harry pointed to the left.
“Come on, Duchess. Give me something more to go on.” He headed across the room, pushing daemons out of his way as he went, his attention on the row of arches Harry motioned to. “Where are you?”
She walked backward, through a swirling vortex, out a door, down another corridor that led to the great hall.
“Got her!” He turned toward the archway in the vision.
Two men appeared. One of them had a scar down the front of his face. A web tattoo on his neck. Trina wasn’t with them.
Duncan let out a war cry as he withdrew his blade, barreling toward them.
The Sentries looked his way and split up as two more entered the room. They were changing, their heads splitting open, their arms and legs elongating. Black Tamanouses.
Someone screamed.
Conversations stopped to be replaced with the scrape of steel sliding out of sheaths. Tables and chairs overturned as the other daemons and witches realized they were under attack.
“I got your back, D. Dust him.” Harry was right behind him.
Duncan reached the slowest of the lot.
He grabbed the bastard before he’d fully transformed, pulling him back into his blade, ashing him without breaking his stride. He had the second son of a bitch in his sights. The fucker was moving fast, trying to transform before he fought. They were strong as hell once they took their true form.
He forced himself faster, reaching out with one hand as he neared. He caught hold of the guy’s collar. The daemon turned, slamming his fist into Duncan’s windpipe. He held on to the daemon as he went down, dragging the bastard with him.
They rolled and Duncan lost his grip. He gained his feet and stood.
/> The fucking thing had finished transforming. The Black Tamanous stood twice Duncan’s height, each of its four legs ending in sharp, pointed, boney claws. It lifted one of its legs, aiming straight for his chest.
He dove to the side. Got up. Ran toward it again.
Harry had one of the thing’s legs grounded as he tried to climb up to its back. George crawled over him, bounding up the body of the Tamanous, biting and clawing at its back.
Duncan slashed at one of the legs but hit more bone than flesh. He barely drew blood.
An orb of fire from one of the witches, slammed into the creature and it reared back. He watched the legs, gauging where they’d come down, hoping the creature would lower itself enough for him to reach the fleshy parts. “Come on, you bastard.”
It rolled. Harry went flying. George clung. Duncan waited for the right moment and jumped on top as its back hit the ground. It wriggled around, trying to put the flames out and Duncan held on. Slammed his blade into its soft belly. Dragged the blade through its flesh, eviscerating it.
Thick black blood oozed out of the gaping wound. The smell was atrocious.
“George!” Harry ran around the side, found George and pulled him out from underneath the creature. The minion stuck out his forked tongue and licked his cheek.
Duncan glanced around. The other two Black Tamanouses were dead. Doom pushed through the crowd, wiping his blade on his pants leg.
“There’s a portal down the hall.” Duncan pointed toward the arch he’d seen in the vision. “Trina walked through it and the Sentries were on the other side. Where does it go?”
Doom drew his brows down and he started to shake his head. “The coven has portals all over Machon going to different locations. The one in this building leads to the coven’s quarters in London.”
The coven’s quarters? Shit. He meant the Vampiric Council Chambers.
James strode over, blades drawn and dripping black blood. To Doom, he said, “The Vampiric Council took over the coven’s quarters centuries ago after the clearances.”
Doom held his hands out. “I didn’t know.”
Fuck’s sake. There was no way he could’ve known. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that they have Trina.” He headed for the arch, but Harry stopped him.
The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Page 29