Peacemaker (Silverlight Book 3)

by Laken Cane

  Suddenly, the weather was the last thing on my mind. The earth seemed to shake when a demon landed in front of my car. He smashed his fist down on the hood and roared, and smoke, gray and wispy in the moonlight, rose like dust from his body.

  I was so startled I shrieked, and my shrill vocal alarm echoed through the air. I didn’t hesitate though—I slammed my foot down on the gas with every intention of smashing his big body between my car and Shane’s truck.

  But he was a demon, and he wasn’t powerless, weak, or slow.

  He’d tossed my last car into the air and exploded it the first time I’d encountered him, and that was on my mind when I charged him.

  I didn’t want him destroying my new car—especially not with me still inside it.

  I yanked the wheel to the side and slammed on the brakes, and almost before I left my seat Silverlight was screaming to life.

  The demon paused, his eyes wide as he witnessed her arrival. “Impossible,” he murmured.

  I didn’t stop to think about anything. I let instinct rule me, and I went on the offensive immediately. I sent Silverlight through the air toward him. She was fast. Impossibly fast. Faster than a master vampire fast.

  But the demon, despite his shock at seeing her slide from my body, had his own sword.

  He ripped it from the sheath at his back, and its light, blacker than the night, brighter than the moon, stopped Silverlight in her tracks.

  The two swords collided, and the resulting shock flung me so hard into the side of my car that my entire body went numb. The air was slammed from my lungs, and the back of my head collided with the side of my car. Hard.

  I slid into the waiting black arms of unconsciousness.

  But only for a minute.

  When I opened my eyes, Silverlight and the demon’s black-lighted sword were still struggling, locked in their brutal, vicious fight for dominance.

  The sound of their screams was worse than my physical pain, and I couldn’t move because I couldn’t think.

  Then Angus, Shane, Clayton, and Leo were in front of me, facing off against the demon, the swords, and the overwhelming crush of power.

  I struggled to my feet and lurched toward my men, terrified for Silverlight. There’d never been a challenge for her—not really. But this new sword…

  It was a challenge.

  Neither one of them could stray long from their masters, and finally, dark went to the demon and light flew back to me.

  When Silverlight attached, I felt a difference in her. She was just a little weaker. Her light was dimmer.

  “All right, Trin?” Angus yelled, not taking his stare from the demon. “All right?”

  The demon answered for me. “She’s fine. For now. But I’m afraid she’ll have to die soon, and Silverlight with her.”

  He began to grow. As we watched, he grew. Taller, bigger, more awful.

  Leo stepped out of the line and walked toward the demon.

  “Leo,” Angus cautioned.

  Leo ignored him. He cracked his neck and loosened his shoulders. “Take me on,” he told the demon.

  “I’ll take you all on,” the demon promised. “But first….” He waved the black sword gently. “My sword will have her reward. And her reward is you.” He pointed the blackness at Clayton. “You know my sword, don’t you, boy? You feel her.”

  I looked at Clayton. His face was pale, his eyes terrible. And I realized finally what he already knew. The sword, forged in hell by the demons, was Miriam.

  “Blacklight,” the demon said, almost tenderly. “Her name is Blacklight, and she wants her fucking golem.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The sword and the Golem

  “Can she hear me?” Clayton murmured, horrified.

  The demon waved Blacklight a little harder, shaking a glowing arc from the black metal. “Hear you?” He laughed, genuinely amused. “Who knows? But she can hurt you.”

  Then he looked at me, his stare fierce. Something had changed in the demon since the last time we’d chased him back to his world. “You can save the others by giving me the sword and the golem.”

  I shook my head and squeezed Silverlight. “That’s not a trade I will ever make, demon.”

  I felt Silverlight’s strength and fierceness returning. She’d be ready for Blacklight when they clashed again—and they would clash again—now that she was over the initial shock.

  “I am Seamus Flynn.” His voice was conversational, his big body relaxed. “You should know the name of the man who will kill you.”

  Amias was suddenly at my back. I felt him like a puff of bloody wind seconds before I saw him. “That man will not be you,” he told the demon.

  Seamus roared, and without another hesitation, he attacked. The time for talking was over. Blacklight expanded like a beating heart, taking all the air from Bay Town, and for a second there was nothing to pull into my lungs. Nothing but panic.

  Then he released her and she flew toward Clayton, deadly, fast, and malicious. The demon jumped—one second he was on the ground and the next he was in the sky, then hurtled himself back down like a boulder in an avalanche. He would crush whatever he landed on.

  “Shane,” I cried, unintentionally, even as I launched Silverlight at the demon’s sword. She would die for me, my Silverlight, but first, she would do as Amias had promised. She would kill the world for me.

  I was terrified for Shane, even more so than the others. It was that damn gut feeling. But maybe I should have been more worried for myself.

  I was weaponless, powerless, human.

  And Silverlight was busy elsewhere.

  I was a vampire hunter. Not a demon killer.

  I did not want to die. I did not want to become a vampire.

  With a suddenness that shocked me, a visitor arrived at the way station walls. His urgency was overwhelming, and I had a moment to wonder what would happen when I had no choice but to ignore him.

  I forced myself out of the chaos of the call, shook my head to dislodge the crashing, shrill sound inside my mind, and put my concentration back on the bigger crisis.

  The demon fight.

  Rhys arrived, and I wanted to yell at him not to fight, not to show his power, not to weaken himself, but he would do as he would do. Rhys Graver was his own master.

  Jade Noel and Amanda Hammer were with him, and they rushed in with whoops of joy, eager to fight, happy to face the demon and his living sword.

  Amanda shoved me out of the way, and she shoved me hard. “Run,” she screamed, almost angrily. “Hide.”

  Because she believed I was distracting them all, that I was a liability. I was in need of protecting. I was useless.

  Or maybe that was just what I thought.

  Jade didn’t pull the guns holstered at her hips. She pulled a wand. A barbed, black, red-tipped wand that lengthened as she whipped it through the air.

  She waved it at the demon, her entire body twisting and moving with her wand, and I would have been fascinated if I’d had time to be.

  Amanda Hammer leaped, and as she flew through the air, she slammed her fists together. A flash of power like silver lightning zigzagged toward Seamus the demon.

  Angus charged the demon, his blood-colored horns flashing, his massive hooves tearing up the earth of the way station.

  Shane and Clayton advanced from behind the demon, side by side, shooting as they came.

  Amias, fast, strong, and full of darkness, slid through the dirt and came up under the demon, something I’d never seen him—or any vampire—do.

  Leo roared and the air in front of him visibly moved with his expelled breath, and he lifted his fist, fell to his knee, and waited for his opening to send power at Seamus the demon.

  And Rhys…Rhys didn’t try to attack the demon. He threw himself in front of me. My shield.

  Everyone did something. Everyone but me.

  My scream of frustration, desperation, and rage cut through the night, even as the demon lifted his hands and sent fire to engulf me
.

  Rhys turned, dived to the ground, and tackled my legs, trying to get me out of the way of the demon’s power.

  But the power found me anyway.

  I was bathed in fire.

  There was agony.

  Time paused.

  And there was agony.

  I heard everything—my men and their terror, their pain. The demon with his hope and his own share of desperation. The swords, clashing, screeching metal, something unthinking but alive, nevertheless. Rushing bodies, feet thumping the earth, the demon’s lapse as he was slammed with the power of my men, my defenders, my protectors.

  And I burned.

  The flames consumed me. Not my body, exactly, but my mind. Seamus Flynn was an incubus, and his power was a thousand times that of the last incubus who’d gotten inside me and screwed with my mind. That demon had shown me despair, and I’d believed there was no worse feeling than what he’d left me with.

  I was wrong.

  Seamus created not only crippling despair, but a fear so excessive and cold and inconceivable that there was no word for it. No, fear wasn’t the word, but it was all I had.

  His flames were part of him, and as his flames devoured me, tasted me, invaded me, so did he. And then, he traded the fear and despair for lust, and he sucked that lust out of me and into himself.

  He fed.

  He fed without touching me, but he didn’t have to touch me. His fire touched me.

  His power weakened as my people attacked him, but though they hurt the demon, his power was still inside me. Consuming me.

  Then Silverlight was in my scorched grip. She was inside me, on me, around me, and she wasn’t the only one.

  The King of Everything was there, as well, instructing me.

  Use it. It is yours for the taking.

  So it was. I absorbed the demon’s burning power. I borrowed it. I became it. And I understood that I would never have been chosen to defend the people and then been given nothing with which to defend them.

  A year ago I would have allowed my defeat.

  But that was then.

  Now I had people to protect. People I loved. People who were everything.

  And I was a different person.

  I burst from the magical, consuming flames, renewed, high on power, full of energy. And when Blacklight streaked toward Clayton, I drew Silverlight’s razor edge across the skin of my arm, fed her my blood, and bid her to save the man I loved.

  I took the flames with me as I turned the demon’s power back on him. His power, mixed with my power, mixed with whatever the King of Everything had left behind when he’d strode inside my mind.

  Splashes of power from every supernatural I’d ever touched were in there. I gathered up great handfuls of it, and I flew at the demon and stuffed that power down his gaping maw. I drew back my fists and punched him with it. I clawed him, kicked him, killed him with it.

  Or very nearly.

  He might have died then, if he—taking his awful sword with him—hadn’t blasted himself out of my world and back into his own.

  Maybe he did die. But I doubted it. I believed he would find his way back and heal himself in the space between, much like a shifter limping off to heal itself from bloody wounds.

  He would return, and he’d bring Miriam with him.

  I hoped he would.

  I would destroy them both.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Cold Dead

  The ensuing silence was dense and chewy, and no one attempted to gnaw through it. They stared at me, each of them with different degrees of astonishment and disbelief.

  Amanda Hammer drew closer to Jade and whispered something to her, and with a quick hand, Jade slid her wand away.

  Magic, then. Jade had magic.

  “What are you?” I asked her, breaking the silence. “A witch?”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Nope. Just stole the wand off of one.” She grinned, then shrugged. “She doesn’t need it anymore.”

  “Better question,” Amanda said, “is what are you, Bloodhunter?”

  Jade grunted. “I caught Himself’s scent coming from her,” she told Amanda.

  Angus stomped toward me, naked and impressively unconcerned with that nakedness, and the others came with him. “She’s mighty,” he told Jade and Amanda. “And she’s fierce. That’s what she is.”

  Slightly burned, bruised, and bloodied by an encounter that had lasted only a few short minutes, my men gathered around me, silent as Angus snatched me against his bare body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, despite Jade and Amanda and their disdain, and then I forgot them when the rest of the men pressed against me.

  We needed touch. No matter what else was going on, we had to physically connect—especially after a battle. It settled us. It made things right. So we reconnected as we silently cataloged injuries, allowed ourselves to sigh with relief when it sank in that we were all okay. We were good.

  All but Clayton. I could feel his worry. The stress of once again facing Miriam—even in her changed state, hadn’t been easy for him. She was going to be hanging over his head until we could find a way to destroy her. And I wasn’t sure that was possible.

  Leo, as usual, stood a little to the side, a little separate, a little unsure.

  “They’ll be back,” Shane said.

  Angus released me and I slid down his body, automatically reaching for Rhys’s hand. I squeezed his fingers, then watched as Amias slid away into the darkness. He hadn’t said a word.

  I frowned, watching him go.

  Jin opened the front door and stuck his head out. “Is it gone?”

  “You are safe,” Jade called, smirking only a little. “The demon has been vanquished.”

  “I appreciate your help,” I told the two women. “Thanks.”

  “You are needed,” Jin told me, a little miffed. “Surely you’re aware.”

  “Yes.” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket as I headed for the house. It appeared to be fine—apparently magic fire didn’t screw with electronic devices. I’d call Crawford to check on things there before I tended to the spirit clamoring for attention. “I’m coming, Jin.”

  Angus and Leo stayed behind, talking quietly, and Rhys rejoined Jade and Amanda.

  I had four voicemails on my phone, and they were all from Crawford. “Shit,” I muttered.

  “What’s wrong?” Shane asked, walking beside me.

  Clayton was on my other side, but he walked in silence. Heavy silence. He had his own demons to deal with, and there was nothing to do but let him sort them out.

  “Crawford has been calling. That doesn’t usually mean anything good.” I put the phone on speaker and we listened as we headed inside.

  Crawford’s first message was a little urgent, shaky as he ran. Vampires—a small group—had attacked six humans outside the hospital. All six had turned. Five of them had been contained. He needed a hunter to come give them their true death, to track the missing sixth victim, and mostly, to find and kill the attackers.

  He was aggravated in his second call. “Where the fuck are you, Sinclair? I need you to get to the city now. Vampires got two more of us. At least two more that I know of. Where the fuck are they coming from?” He hesitated. “What the fuck are these things?”

  By his third call, he was worried something dire had happened to me. “I’m sending a car to check on you.”

  I listened to his final message, my heart heavy. “If you’re ignoring my calls because you’re busy with those fucking supernaturals you live with, I will kill you myself.”

  “Fuck him,” Shane said. “I’m going to have to kick his ass.” But his voice was hoarse. “We need to get to the city, baby hunter.”

  “I know,” I whispered, stunned, near tears, horrified by all the attacks. We would have to kill a lot of turned humans when we got to the city. We would have to fight more rifters. Either the ones we’d killed hadn’t stayed down, or more of them had managed to slip through. “You and Clayton go. I have to deal
with this spirit—he’s beating the shit out of my mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can get rid of him.”

  If I could have, I’d have put the spirit on the backburner. But his clamoring was getting to be too much for me. The minute the crisis had ended and my mind had cleared a little, the visitor had rushed in to fill the silence with his desperation. I had no choice but to deal with him.

  I was the Caretaker, and it was my job. My responsibility.

  “I’ll let Crawford know we’re on our way,” Clayton said.

  I turned to him before I entered the kitchen, where Jin waited, pacing the floor, throwing me dark glances. He’d already taken the kit out of the fridge and placed it on the table. “Clayton…”

  He nodded. “I know.” He gave me a last lingering look, then he and Shane jogged away, off to deal with a city in crisis while I guided the spirit to his rightful path.

  Damn spirits.

  Yes, I was a little resentful.

  “Water, Jin.” I fell into a chair at the table, then blasted opened the metaphysical doors of the way station and yanked the visitor inside.

  He fell to his knees upon the floor, his hair hanging in his face, his borrowed body clean and unmarred, in direct contrast to his battered mind.

  I could see those wounds. I could feel them. His damage scurried over me like a thousand spiders. I twitched and brushed that damage off, taking a deep breath as I got a grip on my reality.

  Jin handed me an icy glass of water, and I nodded my thanks before downing it. Nothing had ever felt better on my dry throat, scorched and raw from the power of the demon.

  I waited impatiently for the usual confusion, the questions, the disbelief. It didn’t come. The stranger simply climbed to his feet, silently, his eyes narrowed, his body tense, ready to either fight or run.

  I was betting on fight.

  “Who are you?” he asked. He looked around the kitchen, slowly, carefully, missing nothing. “What’s this place?”

  It was not the question I’d expected. “This is the way station, and I’m the Caretaker. You were lost and wandering, and I’m here to help you find your way.” I patted the tabletop, trying to be patient, failing miserably. “Please sit and have something to eat before I set you on your true path.”