17

 

 

It was safe to say the ride home came with a rollercoaster of emotions. Not only was Tyrius livid with me for actually considering accepting Lucian’s gift for half a second, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. My stomach was knotting over this sudden news, my insides tight and cramping. I was either sick or having a panic attack. Maybe both.

I hadn’t been this confused since my real father, the man who raised me, had sat me down and tried to explain to an eight-year-old me, crying at the time, why I wasn’t marked with an archangel sigil like the rest of the angel-born children or my parents. My poor parents. I’d been practically inconsolable in my misery wanting to be like the other kids—the angel-born. I’d only stopped crying when my father had told me it was because I was special.

No. Lucian had made it so. Had planned on crafting me into an Unmarked to allow for his gift of darkness.

I’d been partially right about the Unmarked thing being a result of my demon blood, or rather archdemon blood. But I’d never have thought or guessed in a million years it had to do with allowing the transfer of demonic power, a gift of power, a darkness.

Crap, this was bad. If the other angel-borns were protected from this demonic power by the sigils, what did that make me? More of a freak?

Probably. But what if I was meant to have this gift? What if I was supposed to possess this darkness all along? Was this power, this darkness, truly evil? Wasn’t power just pure energy? Strength? It wasn’t good or bad, not until you made it so. And this gift was exactly that. A gift to make me stronger, more powerful, to be special like my real father had told me all those years ago.

A dark Hunter...

As it was, Tyrius and I were the only ones who knew what being an Unmarked truly meant, apart from Lucian. I was positive Lisbeth didn’t know. If the old hag didn’t know, it meant the Gray Council didn’t either. Good. I was going to keep it that way. No need to send more crap my way. The crapper was full, thank you very much.

If I didn’t figure out something fast, I would be blamed for the half-breed killings. Jax had probably figured out that my name was carved into the last victim’s chest by now. Lucian was truly insane if he thought killing innocent half-breeds was the way to go with me. It wasn’t. Hopefully, now that we’d met he’d stop with his madness.

Not only was I a mess, but to make matters worse, I’d lost the grimoire. Technically, the female werewolf had burned it, but it still meant I’d lost it. Okay, so I didn’t need it to summon Degamon anymore, but I still felt it was a major loss. I’d grown attached to that dark witch grimoire. All those spells I would now have to forgo. I didn’t like it. Without the book, I would never have been able to transform myself into a faerie to get into Sylph Tower and kill the queen. It had given me a lot, and I was sad to see it go.

Still, Lucian had said he could find me another grimoire. But I wasn’t ready to face the archdemon again. I wasn’t sure what to make of him, of the situation with this gift of his, of him being my other biological dad—a genetic contributor. What if this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer?

He’d also said that the gift was a “one time only” offer. But somehow, I didn’t believe that was true.

“Damn, what a night,” expressed Tyrius as he stretched next to me on the passenger’s seat, looking long and regal in his tawny fur and black mask. “I almost pulled a muscle.” His blue eyes flashed. “You believe any of that crap he said?”

“He didn’t try to hurt us or kill us,” I argued. “Maybe he was telling the truth.”

“Bull,” said the cat. Tyrius’s suspicion coursed through me, confusing me even more. “Demons lie all the time. And archdemons being the first demons that ever were, with them creating all the lesser demons. What does that tell you?”

“That you’re a liar?” I laughed, and quickly regretted my slip of humor at the scowl on the Siamese’s face. “Okay, bad joke. Can you lighten up a little? I’m the one who has to deal with this. I’m the one with the schizo father who tore up half-breeds all over New York City that I’m most probably going to be blamed for.” I let out a long breath. “You know what I think? I think you believe he was telling the truth. It’s why you were all fidgety like a baal on coffee. You think he’s my father. Don’t you?”

Tyrius kept his eyes on the road. “He’s a father. Or is it a second father? Or daddy two?” The cat shook his head. “This whole thing is very untoward. I feel like I’m in a bad soap-opera episode where two fathers step forward to claim the kid.”

I made a face. “My entire life is untoward. Where have you been? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re avoiding my question, kitty.”

The cat shifted on his seat and gave a little sigh. “Okay, fine. I do. Yes, I think he is one of your fathers.”

“Do I look like him?” I don’t know why that was important to me, but for some reason it was.

I felt the cat’s eyes inspecting me. “You’re dark like him. The dark hair, your complexion. Your other father was fair and had hazel eyes. But you look like your mother, if that’s any consolation.” It didn’t make me feel any better.

My eyes jerked back to the road ahead. “And you think accepting his gift would have been a bad idea? Am I right?” I was still on the fence about whether I’d done the right thing. The wiser part of me was terrified of this gift and what it could do to me, and of Lucian. He was an archdemon, for souls’ sakes. But the other part, the stupider half of me—which was me most of the time—was curious and a little mad for wanting to explore what this power meant and what I could become.

The cat turned on me. “Of course I do, Rowyn.” He hesitated, took a breath, and then let it out. “I don’t think you understand what he was offering.”

“Power. Strength. Archdemon mojo. Did I mention super demonic power?”

A small sound of mistrust slipped from the baal demon. “Don’t be an idiot,” said the cat, his voice cross and his whiskers twitching. “It’s dark. It’s dangerous. I do think he is trying to help you, in his own sick, deranged, and estranged fatherly way. But honestly, Lucian doesn’t know how this dark gift—whatever it is—will react. How it will respond to your body once you’ve accepted it. And it might not respond the way he thinks it will. As far as I know, it’s never been done before.”

My stomach gave a lurch and I gripped the steering wheel. “I’d be the first.” Damn. I hadn’t thought about that either. Lucian had no clue how this exchange of power would affect me. It could most probably fry my brain.

“Right,” mewed the cat, his tail slashing. “And being first isn’t always a good thing. Especially when dark power is involved. There are risks. Complications. Your body might not be able to sustain that power.” The cat hung his head. “You might die.”

The worry in his posture made a lump in my throat. “I won’t die. I didn’t accept. Now did I?” I said, slowing to a stop at the red light.

“But you wanted to.”

I flicked my gaze to the cat. His eyes were sad, and there was understanding there as well. He knew it had been a hard choice.

“I did,” I said softly, worry settling in deep as I looked from Tyrius, sitting next to me, back to the road. There was no point in trying to lie to the baal demon. I had wanted to say yes.

I let out a little laugh. “For a moment I thought I would. I really wanted to.” Was that my father’s archdemon blood speaking?

“What changed your mind?”

“You,” I answered. “Him. All of it. What he did to those half-breeds. Yeah, it would be great to have this kick-ass power, but at what cost? I don’t want to become a monster.” I don’t want to forget who I am. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to watch my ass and hope the werewolves will forget about me.” I thought of the grimoire again and a pang hit me. “Why do you think they burned it?”

“Honestly?” said the cat as he shifted until he found a more comfortable spot. “I think because werewolves fear and hate magic. They saw us. Saw the kind of magic you did to Steven. I think they burned it to stop you from doing any more magic. It was closure.”

“There are more magic books out there.” The light turned green and I turned onto the next right lane. “The dark witch’s grimoire was just one of them.”

“But the spell came from yours.”

True. I sighed loudly and then smiled. “Maybe Evanora has another one?”

The cat jumped to his feet, staring at me in exasperation. “Don’t you even think about it. I’ll kick your ass. I swear.”

I laughed. “Calm down, little tiger. I was just joking.”

The baal was silent, but I could see he was clenching his jaw. “I said I was joking,” I said again, giving him a smile. “I won’t go looking for a grimoire anywhere near that old hag.” Maybe some other dark witch had one.

“That’s not it,” uttered the cat, his face suddenly drawn and creased. “There’s something else.”

“Tyrius?” I said, not liking the silence.

Tyrius looked at me across the seat, his blue eyes almost black in the shadows inside the car. “Lucian isn’t the only archdemon, you know. More fell. Lots more.”

My head snapped around to him. “Yeah. So?”

“So,” he drawled. “Did you think for one moment that even if Lucian didn’t force his gift onto you, that the others won’t?”

Oh. Shit. Fear flared up, but I squashed it. “I hadn’t thought about that.” Damn. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Because I had thought only he could transfer this power. But he’d never mentioned that it was exclusive.

“It’s like he said. They’d be a day-walking part-archdemon. I think that would greatly interest a few other archdemons. Don’t you? Or at the very least spike their interest and not in a good way. Lucian called it a gift, but the others might have something completely different in mind.”

“Yeah.” Lips pressed tightly, I turned back to the road.

“It means you’re like a free vessel to the archdemons,” exclaimed the cat, his voice tight. “Might as well put a sign on your forehead that says FREE RIDE RIGHT HERE.”

“That’s gross, Tyrius. Why do you have to make things always sound dirty?” I scolded, face tight with frustration. My blood pressure went right back up and my mood soured.

“I just want you to understand how serious this is,” said the cat. The ribbon of fear in his tone chilled me.

“I am taking this seriously,” I shouted. “Look at me. I’m freaking out!”

“Lucian didn’t harm you because he was your other daddy,” informed the cat. “But the others won’t be so nice.”

My grip tightened on the wheel. “I have to accept. He said the gift couldn’t be transferred without my acceptance. I just won’t accept the others.” My heart pounded and sweat had broken out all over my arms.

“Right, because no one can be tortured into accepting a gift,” said the cat mockingly. “Think, Rowyn. Think. They’ll make you accept, and it’ll be real easy for them.”

Because they’re archdemons. Oh. Hell. I didn’t need this right now. “That makes me feel so-o-o much better,” I said as I turned onto the next left.

“The truth’s a bitch, baby. Suck it up.” Tyrius raised himself on the window ledge of the passenger window. “I thought we were going to Gran’s? Why are we back at your place?”

I pulled my car into Father Thomas’s parking lot and killed the engine. “Because. I want to make sure he’s okay.” I breathed through my nose, trying to still my pounding heart and the whirlwind in my mind. But it wasn’t working. This whole archdemon gift was scaring the crap out of me.

“He’s probably sleeping at this hour,” said the cat as he pushed off the window ledge. “It’s past midnight.”

“Tough shit,” I said and unbuckled my seat belt. “It’s never too late to do God’s work,” I beamed at the cat.

“Ohhh. He’s going to be really pissed at you for waking him.” The cat gave me a toothy grin. “Nothing screams faith like a big ol’ naked priest.”

I reached behind me to the back seat and grabbed my bag. “I won’t be able to rest until I know he’s okay.” Which was the truth.

“He has a phone, you know,” said the cat looking smug. “Why didn’t you call him?”

“I’ve tried that. He’s not picking up. Which is why I want to make sure he’s okay.” The thought of something happening to the priest sent a prick of fear through me. But I also wanted to explain what happened to my apartment and pay for the damages, which were plentiful. The weres had totaled the kitchen, smashed the tiled counters, and ripped the cabinets from the walls, not to mention holes in the walls the size of basketballs. That wouldn’t come cheap.

I reached for the door handle. “You coming? Or do you want to sit here and wait?”

A short guffaw broke from Tyrius, and he looked at me. “Do I look like bobble head cat to you?” he scoffed. “Of course I’m coming.”

I pushed open the door and Tyrius bounded out, landing expertly next to me on the paved driveway.

The door thumped shut behind me, and I strutted up the driveway to the front porch. The spring night air was cool, the humidity of an approaching storm shifting making the hair on the back of my neck rise. I loved spring storms, and I smiled at the fresh green leaves swaying in the rising breeze as I imagined the distant rumble of thunder.

It didn’t take long to notice that something was off. The usual warm golden glow from the first-floor windows was gone. Father Thomas always kept the small lamp in the foyer on.

God, please no.

A heavy lump of dread formed in my chest. I felt sick. What if the werewolves had come back for me and found the priest instead?

If the priest was dead, that was on me.

And that was non-refundable one-way ticket to the Netherworld.