Death And Darkness

by E. A. Copen

  Emma barely restrained a snicker.

  “Oh, I see how it is. Laugh at the blind guy.”

  “If I didn’t, you’d think something was wrong.”

  The rosy smell of her filled the air around me. Soft fingers gripped my free hand and placed it on the curve of her hip. “Follow.”

  I didn’t need Emma to lead me to the stairs, but I wasn’t going to tell her. I had a free pass to grab her ass, and like hell was I giving that up.

  She guided me up the inside stairs where the sound was muffled by insulated walls and carpeted stairs. My shoes sounded strange on the thin carpet, a more shuffling, uneven sound than I’d always imagined my walk to be. Maybe it was because I was so tired, I was literally dragging my feet. Emma’s walk was heavier for such a small woman, straddling the line between confidence and fear. Don’t ask me how I knew that. It wasn’t something I could explain, just a sense of who she was that I hadn’t noticed before.

  In fact, I was noticing a lot about her that I’d somehow missed, or otherwise hadn’t been conscious of. I said before she smelled like roses, and that was true but also not quite right. She smelled like a whole garden of roses on a hot summer day when the humidity was up but rain was only a distant dream.

  We stopped in front of the door while she fiddled with getting the key in the lock. The lock clicked open, and the door made a familiar squeaking groan as she pushed it open. Though I didn’t need to be led, I followed her in, abandoning the cane by the door. I’d lived in that apartment for years, and Paula hadn’t done much to rearrange the place. I was pretty sure I could get around without a cane.

  Until I tripped on the rug and almost laid myself out flat. Emma caught me just before the tumble and helped me back up. “Easy there, Daredevil.”

  I righted myself and tried to recover the small bruise to my ego. “Was that a comic book reference?”

  “Television show. I’ve been watching it. Not bad except for all the awful detective work in the show. Come on. I’ll help you get into bed.”

  Part of me wanted to climb into the shower and fall asleep in there with the hot water on full blast. If I hadn’t known it would’ve turned icy after a half-hour, I would’ve.

  “I moved the bed last night while I was messing with the circle,” I told her as she helped me navigate past the sofa. “Circle’s under the rug. Is the bed back in the middle of the room?”

  “Looks like it.”

  The quality of sound changed as we moved from the linoleum-tiled kitchen and into the carpeted bedroom. All the soft fabric dulled the sound, making it quieter, gentler. The air felt different too. Thicker, harder to breathe. A faint chemical floral smell inundated the room. Fabric softener, I thought. Whatever Paula was washing the sheets in.

  And blood. For the first time all night, I was acutely aware of the way the crusty collar of my shirt rubbed against my neck. It itched like hell.

  Emma let me go and walked away. Closer to the bed, I thought. What was she doing? Sounded like she was messing around with the blankets. While she did that, I could activate the circle, but I’d need a little fresh blood. “Em, you got a knife?”

  Her footsteps came closer. The firm plastic handle of a utility knife pressed into my waiting palm. “That’s my work blade. Careful. It’s sharp.”

  “That’s adorable.” I winced as I dug the point of the blade into my thumb just enough to draw blood. “Here I am, blind, beaten, and half-dead on my feet, and you’re warning me the knife you just handed me is sharp. I should’ve brought you up to Angola. You would’ve seen those thugs coming a mile away.”

  Emma took the utility knife back and clicked it closed while I knelt and pressed my bleeding thumb against the circle, infusing it with my will. Magic flooded the space, nipping at the exposed skin of my nose and making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Once I was sure the circle was active, I stood, putting pressure on my thumb as best I could with my other hand. “There. Should work now. We are safe for some shut-eye.”

  “Let me see.” Before I could object, Emma grabbed my hand and flipped it over so she could see the self-inflicted injury.

  “It’s nothing. It’ll close up in a second if you—”

  Emma lifted my thumb and slid it between her lips, into her mouth. Slowly.

  For a minute, I forgot how to breathe. The sore, exhausted sensation plaguing my muscles faded into background noise. All considerations of a peaceful night’s sleep—even if it was only a light sleep—evaporated. The room shrank, leaving the only sound the drumming of my heartbeat in my ears.

  “Um,” I managed after a minute. I felt like I should say something, but my ability to make words was suddenly out of reach.

  Her lips shifted, turning up into a smile. She pulled my thumb back out of her mouth and pressed her cheek into my palm. Her face was so warm, as if she’d been out in the sun. “So articulate. A couple weeks, and you’ll be ready to address adoring crowds.”

  “I don’t want adoring crowds or fans,” I said, breathless. “I don’t want to save the world or to fight gods and monsters anymore. I don’t want to be the Pale Horseman, Emma. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is you.”

  I wished I could see her face. Emma’s soul didn’t reflect the delicate play of emotions that would be lighting up her face as I spoke. Maybe I’d said too much, or the wrong thing. It sounded much better in my head.

  Hands, strong, yet somehow still so tiny and delicate, pressed against my chest, and Emma stepped close enough that her body heat warmed me. Memory of the march through Naraka struck, threatening to pull me back down. This wasn’t that heat. Emma wouldn’t burn me away until there was nothing left. When I was with her, it was the only time I felt whole. I wanted to touch her back, kiss her, tell her how much she meant to me, but nothing felt good enough.

  Her hands trailed along the collar of my shirt, the nice shirt I’d put on for her Thanksgiving and then promptly ruined in a prison fight. Deft fingers tugged at the top button. “How bad are you hurt, really?” Emma’s voice was low, lost in some deep thought.

  She was right there in front of me. I couldn’t see her, but she still somehow drove me crazy. All this dancing around the issue, the patience, playing Mr. Nice Guy, I couldn’t take it anymore. I fumbled awkwardly to grab her face and hold it still so I could cover her mouth with mine. She must’ve been drinking a martini downstairs because her lips still held the familiar biting taste of the drink. That was so like her.

  I let my hands roam free. I didn’t need eyes to tell me about the sensitive, smooth bit of skin beneath her ears, or about the curve of her breasts, or the perfect dip in her lower back. God, I need this, but I don’t want things to change, and this might change everything.

  Emma’s hands went to my shoulders, squeezed, and pushed me back, sucking in a desperate gasp of air.

  I was breathless too, though I didn’t care. I’d happily drown in her. Still, I forced myself to grind out the question, hating every word of it. “You want to stop? Because if we don’t stop now…”

  “Hell, no.” Emma gave me a hard shove.

  Air rushed by my head. Somehow, we must’ve gotten turned around because my back hit the bed and bounced once. I struggled to prop myself up on my forearms, head spinning from the sudden drop.

  Two dull thuds. Shoes hitting the floor. The gentle whisper of cotton fabric fluttering through the air as she discarded her shirt.

  “You really can’t see a thing?” There was a playful quality to her voice as if she were about to deliver the punchline of a joke. Knowing she was smiling made me want her even more.

  “Not a damn thing,” I answered.

  A zipper slowly unzipped. Slightly heavier fabric shifted and fell before scraping along the carpet. Coiled mattress springs creaked and shifted as she climbed onto me. My hands found the smooth muscle of her calves and traced up, expecting to find another layer of clothing to pull away. Except there wasn’t anything there but soft, bare fle
sh.

  Emma cursed as she struggled with a button on my shirt before finally giving up and yanking hard enough to pop the button off.

  I grabbed her arm and pulled the inside of her wrist to my lips. “There goes my best shirt,” I murmured into her skin.

  “Too bad. Black is really your color.” She was smiling again. I could tell by her voice.

  I bit off a witty comeback when her lips went to my chest and trailed down at an agonizingly slow pace, taking special care to kiss every scratch and bruise. Even the tiniest bit of pressure hurt in some places, but it was a healing kind of hurt, like a warm compress on a stubborn ache.

  The chill I’d been fighting all evening vanished in a wave of heat that made sweat bead on my forehead. Maybe it was just the room. The hair at the nape of Emma’s neck was damp too. A low, impatient growl of a sound escaped the back of my throat as she fought with the button on my jeans. I wanted her to come back up, let me see more of her with my fingers, not to rush this. This moment was too important to rush through because of stupid hormones demanding, “Now! Now!” Emma was too important.

  My jeans rolled down under her hands. I fought a moment of inner panic when I didn’t feel her touching me anymore and turned on my Vision to see her soul hovering over me on the bed. The chill of the grave clawed at the edge of my psyche, threatening to overcome me, and I had to shut it down. Had to trust that I didn’t need to see.

  All my fears vanished as the familiar smooth, wet warmth of her mouth closed around me. My fingers threaded through Emma’s hair and closed into an involuntary fist. She moved slow. Too slow. Just enough to be a tease. For the first time since I lost my vision, I didn’t miss my eyesight. There was something inherently sexy about feeling but not seeing.

  An involuntary curse slipped out between my lips.

  Emma pulled away. The bed creaked as her weight shifted, moving back over me. Her next kiss stole the air from my lungs, burning it away with raw, hungry fire. It set something off in me, stirring something primal. With a snarl, I kicked away the jeans still clinging to my ankles and rolled, putting her beneath me. A new, inexplicable desire for revenge took over and I pinned her wrists to the mattress, dipping my mouth to the sweet spot between her thighs. It was only supposed to be a tease. Turnabout was fair play. But she tasted so sweet, and the way she wriggled and gasped, rolling her hips to meet me… I had to give her the release she craved.

  With a shudder and a desperate gasp, she arched her back and slid over the edge.

  She was still twitching when I crawled back up her body and positioned myself against her. “Now,” she panted and arched her back again. “Please.”

  Emma wrapped herself around me, warm and slippery wet. It took every bit of will I had to stop myself from just going for it, hard and fast. My caveman brain demanded satisfaction now. I beat it back as Emma made a different sort of gasp.

  “Hurt?” I had to work to find the word.

  She shook her head and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me down to kiss her. It was an awkward position until she hooked her heels into my hips.

  After that, nothing else mattered but driving us both off that cliff.

  Hours later, we lay still in the bed, a heavy darkness wrapped around us. Emma’s head rested against my shoulder, her breathing slow and even. She was already asleep. I wasn’t far behind her when the soft buzzing sound of movement just outside the circle made my eyes snap open. Not that it mattered. I still couldn’t see a damn thing, but I could feel Ikelos circling us.

  “You can’t hide in there forever,” the Titan said in my father’s voice.

  My arm tightened around Emma, instinctively pulling her closer. “I’m not hiding. I’m biding my time, and when the moment’s right, I’m going to kill you.”

  Insect wings fluttered, and a bony carapace creaked as Ikelos let out a low hissing screech. “I cannot be killed.”

  I yawned, closed my eyes, and muttered, “Devil said that too, and look what happened to him.”

  Ikelos fluttered his wings once more and then vanished to find other prey for the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Someone started playing an annoying song at five a.m. My eyes snapped open, and I panicked as nothing came into focus. That’s right. I was temporarily blind because I’d been a dumbass and looked at an angel’s soul.

  Emma groaned next to me and turned over, slapping a hand on the offending object. The music stopped.

  I rubbed my aching face. After maybe two hours of shallow sleep, I wasn’t much better off than I had been when I fell asleep. My eyes still burned, and my brain still felt like it was full of cobwebs. A bus must’ve slammed into my ribs and backed up to try again.

  A soft hand traced up my sore chest and hooked onto my shoulder. Emma put her chin on my other shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek. “Rise and shine. Time to go save the world.”

  I groaned and pulled the pillow from under my head, placing it on top of my face. “Five more minutes, ma.”

  “None of that. Heroes don’t get to sleep in.” She pulled the pillow away. It made a dull thud as it hit the floor next to the bed. Emma’s hand cupped the side of my face. “Still nothing?”

  I blinked and shook my head. If I squinted, I could make out some shadowy lines and streaks of green, but that was it. “I’m supposed to meet the healer in Pearlington this afternoon, though. Should have my eyesight back in time for the big fight.”

  “And when are you planning on doing that?” Her lips pressed into my neck.

  For a minute, I forgot I had places to be, but only for a minute. Reality came tumbling back, overriding the pleasant sensation of her warmth pressed against me. I sighed, unwrapped her arm from my shoulder, and sat up. “Tonight, I hope, which means I’m about to have a busy day.”

  The bed creaked and shifted as Emma sat up too. “Okay,” she said in her no-nonsense voice, “walk me through it.”

  “First, I have to meet the Sandman at dawn outside of a Starbucks on Magazine Street. Then, I need someone to drive me up to Pearlington to meet Beth.”

  “Beth?”

  I winced. Mentioning my ex was probably a bad thing, though it really couldn’t be helped. “Yeah, she’s the healer Samedi got for me. She’s good enough, I suppose.”

  Clothing rustled as she picked it up off the floor and slid it over her head. “There are two problems with that. First, isn’t Beth the Black Horseman and working for Loki?”

  I nodded.

  “And second, doesn’t her healing hurt you?”

  I held up a finger. “Technically, that’s only because of the Pale Horseman mantle, which I’m going to swap out for the Sandman mantle. Temporarily.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Her footsteps thumped over the floor as she collected the rest of her clothes.

  I shrugged. “I don’t think I have a choice. I can’t just put the Titan back in prison in the underworld. Loki would just break him out again somehow. I need to make him dead, and I think this is how I can do it. I’ll need to weave a couple of dream catchers too. Oh, and when I go under for the night, I’ll need to be in the heart of Angola, probably handcuffed to the bed.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, especially considering I knew Ikelos could control the inmates at will, and probably some of the correctional officers too. Once I was cuffed and out, I’d be helpless as long as I stayed in the dream world. Someone would have to protect my body. Someone with no magic.

  “I can do that,” she offered.

  I closed my eyes and listened to Emma move around the room. I needed her help, but I didn’t want to ask her. Bringing her to Angola would put her in danger. “Emma…”

  “Or were you planning on letting someone else handcuff you to a bed?”

  “Yes,” I said before I realized the hole I’d just jumped into. “I mean, this is a safety thing just in case Ikelos tries to take control of my body while I’m trying to kick his ass. I’m going to be in the middle of the same p
rison where I got jumped. Things are going to get bad. I don’t want you there. You could get hurt.”

  “Listen here.” Emma’s fingers closed around my chin and squeezed just hard enough to be uncomfortable. “I’m a police detective, remember? I could get hurt every day I go to work. I could get hurt walking down the street or driving to the store. Hell, I’ve already been hurt. I’ve been to Hell, Lazarus.”

  “I know. I just—”

  “I’m responsible for my own safety. I’m coming with you. Deal with it.” She let me go. “Besides, I’m not letting someone else cuff my boyfriend to a bed.” Emma’s hands slid down the insides of my arms until she could grasp mine. She pulled me to my feet and tapped me on the nose. “That’s my job.”

  “I don’t know whether to be turned on or scared right now.”

  Emma laughed and let me go. “Maybe both. You think you can find your way to the bathroom on your own, or do you need me to guide you?”

  “I can get there.” I reached for the wall, intending to follow it until I found the door. “How long do I have before dawn?”

  “Hour and a half if you want to be safe. Two would be cutting it close. I’ll see what I can find for breakfast.” Her footsteps retreated.

  My mind backtracked and got stuck on what Emma had said about handcuffing me to the bed. “Hey, Emma, you were joking, right? About the handcuffs?”

  “You’d better get your hustle on if you want to have time for coffee,” she called from the kitchen. A total non-answer.

  The shower felt like heaven, despite all the bruises. I leaned my head against the shower wall and let the hot water run until there was none left, rinsing away some of my aches and pains. When I got out, I almost tripped when I walked into the sink. Dammit, this whole blind hero gig kinda sucked.

  I stood in front of the mirror like I normally did, but it took me a few minutes to realize it was pointless since I couldn’t see to shave. Didn’t have any razors, either. Hell, I didn’t even have any clean clothes. Guess I was putting back on the bloodstained black shirt and jeans I’d left on the bedroom floor.