The Dark Matters Quartet

by Claire Robyns

  They hadn’t thought this plan through properly. He should never have agreed to it. He wouldn’t have, if he’d been thinking straight. If the bloody demon’s words weren’t taunting him. Raimlas. And that reference to snapping Lily’s neck.

  The chain came loose. He shoved the gate wide open and ran back to Lily. It wasn’t just the demon’s barbs bothering him either, but he couldn’t define the itch in his brain, couldn’t see where to scratch.

  Lily had finished the circle and was rubbing the stone over and over to thicken the pale yellow line where the circumference only faintly touched the angular points of the inner triangles. Just when he thought she was done, she started on an elliptical shape within the smallest triangle that looked like an eye.

  Finally, she sprang up and tossed the stone aside.

  He glanced over the rough drawing. He did not have a good feeling about this. “Are you done?”

  “Blood.” They were speaking in whispers, keenly aware of the encroaching demon. “Drops of blood to seal the lines.”

  He slid his dagger from his boot, held his palm taut and sliced the sharp blade along the fleshy part. A line of blood welled and he moved his hand over the rune. At the last moment, he shook his hand away, splattering the blood outside the circle. “Kelan said something about ‘pure’ blood.” His eyes met hers. “What does that mean?”

  “Clean? Holy? I don’t know. We never got that far.”

  He swallowed back a string of curses. Dammit all. Pure. Holy. Demons. His thoughts turned to ancient rituals and sacrificial virgins. His jaw clenched at the preposterous notion. But it didn’t matter. Whatever the context, Lily’s blood would be purer. He didn’t trust his own. He hadn’t felt pure a single day in his entire life. “Lily, we should use your blood.”

  “If you think so.” She held her hand out, fingers trembling.

  He took hold of her wrist, pressed the blade flat over her palm, and hesitated. He’d promised to protect, not hurt. How was he supposed to cut her?

  The unmistakeable crunch of dried leaves shattered the silence.

  Lily bit down on her lip, winced, and then, before he realised what she was about, snapped her fingers into a tight fist over the blade. Her fist opened. The blade hadn’t cut her palm, but the tip had pierced deeply into the pad of her thumb. She went down so the blood could flow from the wound onto the line of one of the yellow markings.

  He allowed three drops. His hands came around her waist, swinging her into his arms as he lunged backward with giant steps. The bush shivered, branches parted and Lady Ostrich pushed through the dense shrubbery. Lily held on tight, her arms wrapped around his neck. Greyston kept going, his gaze bouncing between the demon and the blood-sealed circle she stepped into.

  Lady Ostrich glanced down and froze. “Oops.” Her eyes came up to connect with his. “Oh, dear, look what I’ve gone and done.”

  Oops? That didn’t sound like a demon about to be vanquished. They were at the gate. He deposited Lily over the threshold. “Stay put.”

  “What are you doing? You don’t know if it’s safe yet.”

  He knew Lily was safe and that was enough. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve determined whether the rune has bound her powers.”

  “Greyston,” she called as he walked away. “Take care.”

  “I always do,” he muttered without turning to look at her.

  Lady Ostrich’s arms were folded. She tapped a pointed leather boot and watched him with a mocking brow. She didn’t seem much put out by her dire predicament. “I’m always happy to play a new game,” she said. “Is this for the benefit of your little human?”

  “Lily isn’t my little human.”

  “She carries your scent.” Lady Ostrich shrugged. “I’ll admit, that threw me at first.”

  He kept walking until he was an arm’s length from the trapped demon, who wasn’t acting very trapped. But damn that. He had to know. And if it cost him his life…well, he couldn’t live not knowing.

  “You’ve been missing so long, Raimlas, below is rife with rumours that you were truly gone, that your essence had vanished.”

  “Is this why you’ve been tracking me?” he growled, rearing forward a step closer. “Because you think I’m this Raimlas bastard?”

  “I know it’s you. I’ve known since the moment you undid my handiwork and gave the girl a second life.” Her mouth hardened. “None but you have the power to sift time.”

  His mind flashed to that scene in Lily’s drawing room. Lily’s lifeless body in his arms. The grip on his shoulder from behind. “Your hand was on me. You slipped back in time with me.”

  “You always did hate that.”

  His blood chilled at the familiar way in which she spoke of him. Time-running wasn’t natural. He wasn’t natural. Never had been.

  Then her gaze turned to ice probes that pierced him, speared straight through to his soul. The freeze started there, deep within, expanding from that kernel like an explosion in slow motion, consuming every ounce of life heat in its spread. Except for his gut. That was a hot, churning pit. His mother. Brother. Jean. Even his father. There was no reprieve. He was the evil that had touched their lives. Every man, woman and child at Cragloden that night.

  He survived, so that others could perish.

  “You’re weak.” She jerked her head, looked away, and the ice melted. “Is that where you’ve been, Raimlas, in captivity? Was Gamgos with you? What have they done to you?”

  There wasn’t a fibre of strength left in his body. He sank to his knees and his eyes landed on Lily. Staggering beneath the weight of that damn bucket, her arms barely reaching all the way around to hold it against her chest.

  Fury filled the hollows and he shot to his feet.

  Not Lily. Not today.

  Lady Ostrich had seen her too. “While this has been amusing and I’m always willing to oblige your whims,” she drawled, turning her back on Lily to look at him, “I’m not into self sacrifice. Sorry, Raimlas. I don’t trust the ending you have in mind for this particular game.”

  Greyston charged for Lily. He would have gone for the demon, but the slightest chance that Kelan’s rune had bound her power, could contain her, was a whole lot more promising than any damage he’d deal out. Breaching the circle might inadvertently break the magic.

  “Run,” he yelled at Lily.

  “What’s wrong?” She stooped awkwardly to set the bucket down. Her gaze flew past him to Lady Ostrich. “Its powers are useless. You wouldn’t still be—”

  He didn’t know if she cut off because he was about to tackle her or if Lady Ostrich was on the move. He didn’t spare the time to look back. Any half-decent fighter would take out the biggest threat first and he sure as hell didn’t think that was him or Lily. He grabbed Lily by the arm and flung her one way while he aimed a kick at the bucket of seawater with all his strength. The force behind that kick shuddered to his knee as his boot connected. The bucket lifted less than a foot into the air. White fire struck in a hiss of molten steel and steam. The peripheral heat of the demon’s bolt clipped his thigh and lanced bone-deep.

  Pain seared his skull and he blacked out. But only for a second or so. When he came to, Lady Ostrich was only just turning her attention from her vaporised opponent. Lily was still untangling her legs from her skirt as she stumbled backward. She was almost at the gate. She’d make it.

  “Hurry,” he shouted. “And stay inside the gate this time.”

  He rolled onto his side, using his hands and one knee to push himself up. His other leg was useless. The pain was excruciating, throbbing through to each extremity and pounding at his temples.

  Lady Ostrich raised her hands in his direction.

  Better him than Lily. He made it to his feet and faced the demon squarely.

  She flexed her fingers and sparks danced from the tips.

  Lily cried out.

  The smell of sweat and stallion assaulted his senses.

  Lady Ostrich stepped outside the circle and flicked.<
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  In that instant between life and death, when time shattered and your regrets paraded slowly before your eyes, a man cloaked in black upon a tempest beast and wielding a rapier thin sword cut the space between Greyston and the fire bolt.

  “You bloody fools,” the man barked, his sword arm whipping faster than Greyston could follow. The narrow blade glowed a brilliant white as it deflected the continual assault of fire shooting from the demon’s fingertips. The bolts bounced off at various angles, some narrowly missing the source. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Greyston blinked.

  “Get back.” Kelan slid from his horse and slapped it on the rump to send it galloping. He dipped and dived, feinted, lunged, engaging the fire as if it were another sword and all with the ease of a gentleman at a friendly game of fencing. “Take Lily and get back to the house.”

  Greyston clutched his wounded leg, dragging it along as he backed away at a hobble. There was no blood. Material and skin had been cauterised as one in the tear that gaped open to the sinew of his bone. He gagged and nearly blacked out again.

  “Lean on me.” The soft voice reached out to him from the mist of pain, and then a steadying arm slipped around his waist. “Does it hurt?”

  Greyston’s laugh came out as a weak croak. “You need to get to safety.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Lily said firmly.

  He turned his gaze on her and took a moment to memorise every detail. The green flecks in her eyes shimmered. Her mouth, a deep pink against the pallor of her cheeks. The glimpse of white teeth as she nibbled her trembling lip. So many emotions, perhaps one or two for him, the beginnings of what might have been a great love.

  Her chin was raised stubbornly. The determination set in her jaw challenged the whole damn world.

  He found a grin within, found the strength to pull it up through the pain. “Listen to me, Lily, I need your help.”

  “I’m here.” Her arm tightened around him, her fingers digging into his side.

  “I want you to go on ahead.” As a protest rose to her lips, he closed his hand around those fingers and gently squeezed. “Find Neco…and Armand,” he added, knowing the man would keep her safely inside. Lily was a valuable McAllister asset, to be protected at all costs. “Send them out here. You’ll go quicker than me.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course.” Her hand fell away from him. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’m right behind you,” he said.

  He waited until she’d disappeared from view around the corner before allowing his body to give out. He slumped against the perimeter wall and slid heavily to the ground, stretching his leg out before him.

  The distance between Lady Ostrich and Kelan had closed. Each lunge on Kelan’s part, it seemed, had been a planned advancement. Steel and fire clashed in a spray of never-ending sparks. Every move Kelan made was lithe, confident and arrogant. And then one of those bolts reflected from his sword in a direct hit at close range that jolted and shuddered through Lady Ostrich’s body in a series of spasms that momentarily immobilised her.

  Kelan sliced the sword across his palm and then sheathed the contracting rapier inside his boot. He dragged the demon into the centre of the circle, shaking his blood over the rune as he did so.

  The convulsions wore off and Lady Ostrich screamed. She flicked her fingers, cursed and flicked again. Nothing happened. Not so much as a spluttering flame.

  Neco and Armand came running up. Armand, carrying a large wooden pail, headed for the gate.

  Neco veered in his direction. “You’re injured.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” Greyston contemplated the monumental task of hauling himself to his feet again, and decided another minute wouldn’t matter. He prodded with his chin to where Kelan stood, talking with Lady Ostrich in low tones that didn’t carry. “I want to see this demon banished.”

  “You don’t look fine,” Neco said. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Merely stating a fact.”

  Armand returned from the lake, water slopping over the sides of the pail at his brisk pace.

  Kelan stood aside and Armand emptied the pail of seawater over Lady Ostrich’s head. She threw her head back, her arms limp at her side, and made a hoarse, keening sound deep in her throat. The air surrounding the circle clouded to a hazy silver and the keening faded.

  The air cleared and the circle was empty.

  “Well,” Greyston said, “that was impressively unspectacular.”

  Neco glanced down at him. “Are we done watching?”

  “You’ve just witnessed your first demon banishing and that’s all you have to say? You’re no fun, Neco, have I ever told you that?”

  “Many times.” Neco bent over and scooped Greyston into his arms.

  “I can walk,” Greyston muttered.

  “I know you can,” Neco said, but didn’t put him down until he could do so on the leather sofa inside the library.

  Lily had been waiting for him on the portico and followed into the library. “Ana’s fetching linen towels and Mrs. Locke is boiling water. Is he okay?” she demanded of Neco, not giving him a chance to answer. “What happened? Is the demon banished? Why did you have to carry Greyston? How bad is he?”

  Kelan and Armand weren’t far behind.

  “The demon was Flavith and it’s been here since March 21, 1828,” Kelan said.

  “Your rune worked,” Greyston informed Lily, shuffling into a sitting position with his back propped against the armrest of the sofa. His jaw clamped down on a fresh spike of pain. It seemed to come in waves, alternating with white-hot flashes of nausea and taking a little more of his strength with each cycle. “Kelan stunned Lady Ostrich and as soon as he dragged her into the circle, she was powerless.”

  “You would all be dead if I hadn’t arrived when I did.” Kelan turned on Lily. “How many times didn’t I warn you that you weren’t ready? I thought you were listening.” His tone was blistering. “I thought you damned well understood.”

  “You taught her to make the rune and never mentioned it needed your blood,” Greyston said, his voice just as hard. Damn the pain. Damn the nausea. The anger coursing through him acted like a natural suppressant, coating his weakness with sheer grit.

  Armand kneeled before him, a tentative hand reaching to examine his thigh.

  Greyston knocked the hand aside. “Get away from me.”

  “Cloth and dirt has been cauterised into the skin,” Armand said, remaining on his knees. “The wound must be reopened so the skin can be cleaned and stitched back to grow over the bone.”

  Greyston glared at him. “Lay one hand on me, and I’ll set Neco on you.”

  Neco loomed forward from his position behind the sofa.

  “Do you want to walk again?” Armand challenged.

  “Armand,” called out Kelan, “perhaps his immediate problem would be better served with a measure of whiskey than advice?”

  “Very well, m’lord.” Armand stood, but apparently couldn’t resist having the last word. “If infection sets in, you’ll lose the leg.”

  Greyston beckoned Neco to lean a little closer. “Go to the Red Hawk and bring Ian to me. Tell him to bring his poppy juice and to be damned quick about it.”

  Lily took Armand’s place beside the sofa. “You’re in terrible pain. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “You’re already doing it,” he said softly. You didn’t die.

  Ana entered the library with a stack of towels and a silver bowl. Lily directed her to leave everything on the table and said to him, “I’m scared I’d do more wrong than right. Are you able to wait for Ian?”

  He nodded.

  Armand brought two glasses back from the drinks counter and handed one to him.

  Greyston drained his glass of whiskey. It felt as if every nerve in his body had been bared, not just the bone of his leg. The whiskey burned a soothing path down his throat and dulled the peaks of the spiking agony.<
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  His gaze went to Kelan, who’d seated himself in a nearby chair. “Lady Ostrich—Flavith, called me Raimlas.”

  He wasn’t the demon. That much he was certain of. He’d swum in the ocean often enough. He could pass through the McAllister’s demon shield. He wasn’t the demon. But he was something. Greyston tensed. The itch in his brain he hadn’t been able to identify was suddenly right before his eyes.

  Lady Ostrich wasn’t responsible for the Cragloden gas explosion. No demon was. Kelan had said the protection runes had been woven into the foundations of the original perimeter wall and were still in force. The shield hadn’t been created from demon magic left behind in the ruins of the old castle—the shield had been there from the beginning. No demon could set foot inside Cragloden, now or back then.

  Kelan exchanged a look with Armand and his man immediately ushered Ana from the room.

  “Raimlas and Gamgos were the demons my uncle kept bound in his laboratory for months,” Kelan said. “Demons were rising faster than ever before and we were never going to win the war. We were forced to wait years after banishing a known demon to be sure another hadn’t slipped through before we could attempt to seal the tear. One always did, but we never knew if we’d missed a window of opportunity while we’d waited. My uncle believed he could harness the essence of a demon, the powers, the most important being their innate ability to sense each other’s presence, and use it to our advantage.”

  Kelan settled back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other and rested the glass on his knee. “The demon blood was meant for the celludrones. During his research, however, my uncle changed his mind. Humans would bond more effectively with the demon powers, and humans would be more efficient at putting it to use. Especially those born into a position of power with the right connections to make a difference.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lily said, her voice barely a whisper. “I have the ability to sense a demon’s presence. What…” She rose to her feet, her hands fisted at her side. “What are you saying?”

  “We have demon blood,” Greyston ground out, his jaw clenched in pain and fury. Lily? The bloody bastard did this to Lily, too? The McAllisters went too far, took too many liberties with other people’s lives.