Red Demon
Page 22
“If it was him,” Ari said, still appearing highly unsettled. “Then it was my work and nature that caused your death. Jules, God. I’m so sorry.”
She wrapped her arms about him, pressing her cheek against his heart, relishing the vital sound of its beating. “We do not know that. And even if that’s true, that wouldn’t be your fault.”
“It might have been an act of retribution against me. Meant to scare me off his trail . . . or worse.”
“Worse?”
“He might have intended to capture your own soul, and . . .”
She understood the direction of his reasoning. “Maybe my own gifts proved too strong for that, but somehow he lured me toward the river?”
“Or used some of his demon horde, all in an effort to strike at me.”
“Again, you cannot blame yourself! What you do—I can’t even fathom the kinds of evil you battle, the importance of it.”
“But if I’d told you more about what I was—”
“I distinctly recall, Aristos, that you did not tell me sooner out of a desire to protect me. I would never blame you or fault you for that. You are not guilty, and my fate should not be on your conscience. I’ve returned; now we are together. Those are the only things that matter.”
“What of the years when you waited here in Savannah for me? Searching for me?” he asked.
She cupped his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. “Darling, love has many costs. It is our greatest joy as humans, but also our gravest pain. I knew this when I fell in love with you. Knew that you were not human. It was a risk I gladly undertook.”
He said nothing, stroking her hair for many long moments, and then whispered, “And if it’s true that a demon trader targeted you, it means I spent a century blaming you for my own deeds.”
Juliana dozed, lost in a dreamy half place where all that mattered was Ari: his body next to her, the rushing tide of love and pleasure that hummed through her. And the fact that he slept beside her, snoring lightly and fully at peace.
The moment was rare and precious.
Still, a disturbing sensation seemed to be edging closer, circling up against her thoughts like some vulture wanting to attack Ari and their newly reestablished love. The dream moved in on her, more threatening, seizing hold of her. She tried clutching at Ari’s side, but she was lost in the water.
It was so deep, the waves so high, that she kept sucking down gulps of it. She worked her arms to try to stay afloat, but her dress was soaked, pulling her lower and lower.
Aristos! I do not want to die! She tried screaming the words, feeling the suction of the river. It meant to claim her. She began to feel tendrils wrap about her ankles and kicked at them, but the thick folds of her dress and bustle made the fight impossible.
The creatures hissed and moved up around her thighs, then caught her about the waist.
Even submerged, she could hear their laughter. “Daughter! Daughter is ours,” they taunted. “Into the water; here you belong.” They kept repeating those words like a wicked, deathly chant.
She tried to breathe, but her mouth filled with more water.
Aristos! I do not leave you willingly! she screamed inside the prison of her mind . . . as everything went black.
But then, just as quickly, light encircled her, the water was gone—and she stood on West Jones Street. It was still stormy, yes, but . . . different. There were fast-moving carriages, and she’d held Ari tonight, hadn’t she?
Suddenly a woman approached her, and unlike so many of those always around her, this beautiful person could see her; in fact, she was walking right toward her.
Yes! This was the one who’d allowed her to come back, Juliana thought, and smiled joyously. It was her angel!
“I thought you’d rather not have that awful dream,” the glorious being told her. “Nasty business that, and no real need for you to confront those memories.”
“Was that how I died?” Perhaps this woman would know and could answer some of her many questions. Juliana glanced down the street. “This looks like the moment when we made our arrangement, but I’m alive again.”
“Oh, you’re alive again, and I’m communicating with you in your dreams. It’s the only way I can surface. For now.”
“Surface?”
“Poor choice of words for a woman who drowned herself, I suppose. I have a great love of irony—one reason I was so enthusiastic about offering you our special bargain.”
Juliana fought a sense of confusion at the angel’s words and tone, which seemed cruel and taunting.
“You told me you could help me live again, be with my Aristos.”
“And you are alive. I fulfilled my portion of the agreement.”
The entity’s face, which had seemed so kind and lovely before, suddenly transformed, becoming threatening and harsh. Her eyes assumed a rapacious gleam that caused Juliana to shiver. “This is only a dream, friend. I had to speak with you in this quiet place, while you slept.”
Juliana nodded, trying to understand. “There is something required from me? In repayment for your wonderful gift of life?” she inquired of the woman. “I . . . I don’t recall any such part to our arrangement.”
“Of course not. I wanted it that way. And it was better for our purposes.” She smiled sympathetically at Juliana, but that expression was chilling, not an encouragement. All that beauty seemed to be an overstatement, a garish attempt to hide an uglier aspect lying underneath.
The angel had thick mahogany hair that waved all the way down her back to her hips, utterly unlike the conservative style she’d displayed before. Now instead of being intricately braided atop her head, it fell like an exotic covering, the only garment that concealed her breasts. Upon her hips, she wore a low-slung skirt, a sheer wrap that gleamed with pearls and jewels. They sparkled in a suggestive pinnacle at the front, emphasizing her intimate area. Not concealing, but highlighting the tufts of dark hair that gleamed beneath the fabric. Before, she’d been in a golden robe, clad as Juliana had always imagined an angel would be.
“I am grateful,” Juliana said, remembering her manners. “Very thankful for what you’ve allowed me.”
The woman gave a flourish of her hand, smiling again. “But of course, Juliana.”
“Forgive me. I do not seem to recall your name,” she replied, suddenly alarmed.
“I never gave it,” the other woman told her, eyes flashing as red as coals. “But I did give my word that I’d need something from you. When the time was right.”
Juliana startled. “I have no recollection of that.”
“You wouldn’t. I erased the memory from your mind,” she said easily. “But now I require payment for my . . .” She stared up at the night sky. “Well, for my services, to put it bluntly.”
“I have no money, although I’m sure I could—”
“It’s not money that I’m after, Juliana,” she trilled, her blazing eyes turning from red to violet. “But rather something far more valuable.”
Juliana felt as if she were drowning again, as if tendrils were wrapping about her chest, choking the air from her lungs.
“I want to use you,” the woman said.
She gaped at the stranger, who extended a hand in introduction. “I am Layla.” Juliana refused to accept the politely offered handshake, and slowly the woman frowned, dropping her arm back to her side. “Not so grateful anymore, are you?”
“What do you want to use me for?” Juliana insisted, wavering unsteadily. Her hands found the rough bark of the tree behind her, but that only reminded her of how desperate she’d been when this Layla had come to her. How pitifully insubstantial and tangled she’d been in this oak’s branches.
“Ah, Juliana, don’t trouble yourself,” Layla chided. “I will help you remember everything.” She placed a palm against Juliana’s forehead, and a rushing tide of memories filled Juliana’s mind. “I needed to conceal the details from you at first,” she explained with an apologetic smile. “You had to convince them of your goo
dness . . . your true intentions, before I set you against him.”
Oh, God, no, not Ari, she thought in a panic. “Don’t hurt him,” she beseeched. “Anything, any deed you require of me, I’ll do it, so long as Aristos does not suffer.”
Layla’s eyes grew beady and intense. “Perhaps you should’ve thought to plead on his behalf at the outset.”
And she hadn’t; she’d been so overwhelmed with the possibility of being alive again, of returning to him, Juliana realized, that she’d forged ahead blindly. “What do you plan to do to him?” she asked.
Layla tossed her mane of hair and laughed uproariously. “You are the one who will destroy him. Not me.”
Juliana felt much stronger suddenly. “I would never harm him, never hurt him in any way. Plus, he lives forever.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” Layla extended a corrective finger. “Immortality does not mean that he can’t be killed or die if the weapon or force used is strong enough. It only grants him a long lease upon this world.” She stood taller, becoming officious. “Our terms, precious girl, were for ten days—you resurrected again, returned to Aristos. We did not, however, barter for any longer span, nor did we discuss me sparing your lover.” She waved a bejeweled hand. “Do you remember now? Apparently just one day with Aristos was better than none.”
“I will tell him what you’ve done. He’ll know of your dangerous threat,” Juliana seethed, lunging forward. But Layla caught both of her hands, bending her wrists at an awkward angle until Juliana cried out.
“You will tell the Spartans nothing,” she threatened. “If you speak of me at all? I will overrun you and take Aristos’s life by my own hand—and I will make him suffer a long, painful death as he spills his immortal’s blood. No, you will not betray our pact or my plans.”
“Overrun me . . . how?” Juliana asked in a panic.
Layla released her and smiled lazily. “Your body. I’m inside it, too, now. I have been from the moment I resurrected you. Cohabitation was always the objective, which is why we gave you physical form again. So I could inhabit it, along with your own spirit.”
Juliana grew horrified.
“You’re . . . a demon? You’ve possessed me?”
Layla inclined her head. “Aren’t you a quick study, my darling.”
“Who is we? Who helped you give me physical form again?”
“Now, I can’t share everything, can I? Where’s the fun in that!” Layla trilled.
Juliana’s mind whirled. All that time she’d spent swearing and promising to Aristos that she wasn’t a demon, she’d been telling the truth—but she’d also been dangerously wrong. She wasn’t a demon, no, but she concealed one.
“You’re inside my own body? Right now, while I’m dreaming—when I’m with Aristos?” Juliana asked quickly, determined to learn as much as she could. For knowledge, she well knew, represented power and strength and would be her only chance of fighting back. “Explain to me how this relationship works.” She kept her voice as steady as she could. “For certainly this is most unusual indeed.”
Layla leaned closer, confiding, “You’re a real-life Trojan horse. Riveting, isn’t it?”
Juliana swallowed, nodding. “Quite. But surely I can help you gain whatever you seek without Ari having to suffer.”
Layla’s eyes flashed beadily. “Do not seek to appease me or barter on your lover’s behalf!”
“Don’t hurt him,” Juliana begged. “Please, please let him live. . . . I will do anything for you.”
“But that’s just it! You’ve already done the deed I required by gaining his trust. So, you see, you’ve destroyed him already. The rest,” she said, stroking her nipples lazily and purring, “is up to me. And it’s only a matter of time until my work will be completed.”
“Why tell me this now?” Juliana asked, desperately wondering how this demon could be stopped. There had to be a way, some manner in which she herself could battle the creature. “Why reveal your plans at all?”
“Despair will weaken your resistance to me—and allow me more strength. I’m feeding off of your soul, you see.” Layla moaned softly in pleasure. “It’s intoxicating, really. And the greater your distress becomes? The stronger I am.”
“I will find a way to drive you out of my body!” Juliana shouted, reaching to slap the demon’s wicked face. Again, Layla caught her hand, twisting it painfully.
“Pitiful human weakness, your belief in your own strength and independence,” Layla hissed. “Don’t deceive yourself! You and I are joined like a pair of lovers now. Your body, your soul, inhabited by my own demonic spirit. I cannot be cast out, nor overcome. And, my lovely,” Layla purred, moving up to Juliana and reaching to stroke her hair, “I’m going to consume you completely before we are done.”
“I will fight back!” Juliana insisted, but then Layla took hold of her head.
Leaning close, she blew across Juliana’s face, an acrid smell, and whispered two words—fear and submission—and at once a fog overcame Jules, rendering her mute and weakened.
Then the female drew Jules’s hand to her own lips, pressing a perversely lingering kiss against the flesh. “I own you now, beautiful,” Layla promised sweetly. “And, in time, I’ll own your body, too.”
Chapter 24
Ari stretched his legs and nestled Jules closer. A late-afternoon nap, the woman you loved beside you—your body all sated and happy from making love. Really, nothing could be sweeter, he decided. Turning his cheek on the pillow, he smiled because Jules was asleep right beside him. She lay on her back, secure beneath his arm.
His groin tightened at that physical awareness. Whoa, boy, maybe not so satisfied after all, he thought, shifting his hips. Later, once she’d grown more accustomed to lovemaking, he wanted to take her beneath his transformed body. He could even imagine her naked and in his arms, the two of them flying over the city, her legs wrapped about him. . . .
Well, there were certain things that even he’d never tried while winged, but he wasn’t above admitting to his own virginal aspects. He grinned at that one, his imagination running wild—or flying wild was more like it—as he imagined them having mythic sex in midflight. Discreetly, he moved his palm along Jules’s inner thigh, loving the warmth and softness against his calloused hand. He smiled, wondering whether even in her sleep, she was pleasured by his touch.
Suddenly, though, she cried out, and at first he thought he’d startled her. But she twisted beneath his caress, murmuring something frantically, over and over.
He gave her a light shake. “Jules. Sweetheart, wake up,” he said, and she whimpered, flailing a hand.
He rose onto his knees and leaned over her. “Juliana,” he said loudly. Stroking her hair, he gave her another shake. “Sweetheart, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and at first she just looked all around, as if maybe she wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten there. “Aristos?” She stared at the open balcony uncertainly, then glanced all about the room. “What year is it?”
“You’re with me, here in the twenty- first century,” he reassured her.
As that fact really sunk in, she hurled herself into his arms, digging her fingers into his shoulders, clinging to him as if to life itself—or as if she feared he might just up and fly away on her.
“I’m here, baby. We’re both here, in Savannah, at the hotel,” he murmured, drawing her up onto his lap.
“Oh, oh,” she said, burrowing against his chest. Her whole body trembled. “Ari, tell me this is real. Tell me I’m alive,” she pleaded. “That this moment, here with you, isn’t the dream.”
He held her close, shushing her fears away. Or at least he tried, but no matter what he said, she continued to shake as she clung to him.
And then he was the one who began to tremor, maybe even harder, when she looked up at him. Raw terror filled her expression. “Tell me that no matter what, you’ll always love me,” she begged. “Tell me that nothing can ever change that.”
Finally she calmed, relaxing against him. “I’ll love you for my immortal days, too,” she said.
Immortal days? He’d never even stopped to consider whether she’d age or not, die a natural death or live forever like him.
But when he opened his mouth to voice the question, his shoulder began to burn and ache. He rubbed it, and slowly the twinge subsided, although there’d been something he wanted to ask Jules—needed to ask, he was certain. But now he had no recollection of what that thought might have been.
The blasted shoulder had done the same thing in Leo’s study last night, he remembered, suddenly struck by a marvelous idea. “I know exactly what will make you feel better,” he told Juliana.
“What do you have in mind?” She still bore a slightly troubled expression, which only convinced him that his plan was the perfect way to woo her and eliminate the nightmare from her thoughts.
He rose from the bed, searching for his pants. “Put your dress on,” he instructed, handing the garment to her. She took it from him and sat up.
“Do you see my bustle?” she asked.
“No, just the dress. You don’t need anything else. In fact,” he said, giving her his most devilish, charming smile, “you’d better not wear any undergarments. But first, I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. When I get out? Be prepared. Or actually, come to think of it . . . ,” he said. “Maybe I should haul you in there with me.”
She yawned, rolling onto her side. “I think I need a little more rest before we engage in any further . . . exploits.”
He bent down and kissed her hungrily, tucking the sheet over her bare body. “A little rest, but I have other plans for later.”