Chapter Twenty-seven
Will ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. For the last five minutes, Ash had been filling them in on what Night Terrors – capital “N,” capital “T,” – were and why Helena had called out to him because of them. Now Will understood why she’d wanted the beer. According to Ashrim, alcohol kept her up. Caffeine put her down. Ash knew a lot about Helena.
Will had to admit that made him uneasy. Ash and the Promised One had been friends for years. The sentinel knew she experienced synesthesia, that she loved classic rock and classic cars but also loved practically every other kind of music under the sun, and owned a Jeep because life was bumpy. She read copious amounts of time-travel sci-fi and mystery, but also poetry, and her favorite author was Mark Twain. She was a die-hard Trekkie and had a bigger than average crush on a whole slew of television bad guys. He knew she played Bob Seger songs on the guitar, but also Oscar Isaac and Neil Diamond. He knew that she’d gone to school for everything from journalism to dance to law, and that she actually had two advanced degrees, despite the fact that she’d chosen to live her life as a warden. Of all things.
There was a reason for that, too. Through Ash, Will had learned that Helena’s father had died when she was only seven years old – fighting off one of her own Night Terrors.
That terrible moment in time had been the deciding factor in her life’s choices. It was why she was knocked out right now on Liam’s bed rather than preparing a lecture at some Ivy League school like Columbia or Cornell.
With every fact he shared about Helena Dawn, Ash tied Will down harder. Every word made him weaker. He had this strange feeling inside him, unfamiliar and heavy, and he honestly wasn’t sure he liked it. Because there was no way for this to end well. He didn’t have happy endings, especially where women were concerned. He was a warden and it was a cop’s life, but with the added danger of supernatural threat thrown in.
He just needed to keep Helena away from Cain. That was all. It was his job. Nothing more.
The sound of fire hissing drew his attention to Darryl, who stood about ten feet away, bent over a portable fire pit in the safe house “dungeon.” It was just a room with warded walls and chains, a few uncomfortable chairs, and even a bed where unsavories were kept until their kings or leaders or whatever could come pick them up and dole out their own brand of justice – and Will and Liam could get paid. In short, the room had been made for the bounty hunter aspect of the warden job.
Will was leaning against the table on the other side of the foreboding room, Liam and Ash nearby. But when Will saw what was making the hissing sound, he rose and straightened, and his heart sank into his gut, where it was pretty much digested by a churning stomach.
Darryl held up the metal brand, which glowed bright orange at one end. The smoldering metal had been intricately and carefully carved into the symbol necessary to complete Darryl’s spell and effectively protect Helena from Cain’s influence. It was supposed to be her salvation, and since it was hers, it was theirs too. But all Will saw when he looked at it was pain.
Red hot, glowing pain.
“What’s the matter, Will? Getting cold feet?” asked Darryl softly. His tone was laced with a touch of apathetic acid, and his eyes said he knew damn well Will didn’t want to do this. He just enjoyed rubbing it in.
“I’ll do it, Will,” said Liam. He walked over to Will and shot Darryl a dirty look. But Will could see the color had drained from Liam’s face too.
“Neither of you should have to do it,” said Ash, who joined them. “I will do it. And then I will heal her.”
But Darryl lifted the metal brand and wagged his finger at them. “Ah-ah,” he chided. “No healing. You’ll need to let it work its magic. I’m afraid this is something she’ll have to tough out.” He lowered it again when all three of them must have donned appalled expressions. “Oh please,” he said. “Tell me you at least stock some decent pain killers in this glorified pillow fort.”
“I’ll do it myself.”
The three of them turned toward the room’s entrance where Helena now stood, and Will’s heart momentarily stopped in his chest. Literally stopped. When it started back up again, it hurt.
Helena was a deliriously beautiful woman. But right now, she looked haunted. There was a darkness under her luminous eyes, a pale hue to her smooth skin, and she was clenching and unclenching her fists in pure, hard fear. Her eyes skirted quickly from him to Liam to Darryl. And then to the fire pit.
She was lunging forward before he could stop her. She was good. He had to give her that. She used their surprise to her advantage. But his entire life passed before his eyes when she expertly wrenched the branding iron from Darryl’s grip and held it out in front of her like a weapon. He and Liam skidded to a halt a few short feet away. They’d come that far at least.
The cousins held up their hands. “You don’t want to do this, Helena,” Will said, shaking his head.
“Let us help you,” Liam added.
“You’ve done enough,” she told them. And with that, she lifted her left arm so her sleeve slid back. Like lightning, she spun the iron in her hand until it was face-down, then pressed it into her forearm with merciless accuracy.
The sound was God-awful. Nausea rose in Will’s gut as the iron scorched through her flesh, burning away the layers with immense and terrible speed. He was behind her, wrapping his arms around her before he knew what he was doing. Acting on pure instinct, pure horror, he caught her when she sank to her knees from the pain. The branding iron dropped to the ground, its job more than well done, and Will absorbed the sound of her scream.
“Get the first aid kit!” he commanded.
But Liam had already left the room, and Ash had dropped to his knees beside them. The sentinel took Helena’s face in his hands and lifted it, trying to make eye contact. Helena’s eyes met his, but they were glazed and unfocused. “It hurts,” she hissed, teeth clasped tight together. “Too much.”
The mark was blood red and black, outlined by the still-burning orange of skin that hadn’t yet quit searing. But worse, lines of insidious red magic spread from the brand, sinking under the skin of her arm to infiltrate the rest of her body.
Ashrim noted this and looked up at Darryl with deadly accusation. “It’s the spell, isn’t it? Causing her pain?”
Darryl honestly looked helpless. And Will honestly wanted to kill him. Especially when the warlock finally shrugged and said, “It’s powerful magic. It’s meant to keep Cain away; it can’t be an easy pill to swallow, now can it?” He stepped forward as if he wanted to help in some way and had no idea how. “This is why you couldn’t heal it. It takes time to work completely.”
Will held Helena fast, though she writhed in his grasp, and he felt every corded muscle that housed the suffering in her body. He was twice as big and twice as strong as her, and that was his one advantage. So he used it. “What is it doing to her?!” he demanded through clenched teeth of his own.
“It’s working its way through her system,” said Darryl. “Once it does and can protect her fully, the pain will subside.” He nodded at the mark. “The burn itself will hurt for a while, naturally.”
Ashrim looked deeply troubled. Will could imagine how hard it was for the sentinel to watch a warden suffer like she was but be unable to do anything about it even though he was so close.
“How much longer?” Ash asked.
“Not long now,” Darryl assured them. “I think.”
“You think?” Will growled.
Darryl held up his hands. “This is un-tried magic!”
Ash looked toward the door, where Liam had already reappeared. Ash released Helena to meet him in the doorway. Over the top of Helena’s head, Will saw Liam hand Ashrim several items. One of them was yet another syringe.
Oh hell, thought Will.
But it made sense. Helena wouldn’t be able to get any kind of pill down right now, and a pill would take forever to work anyway. An injection of something strong was their best bet. And with the way she was thrashing, it would take more than one of them to administer it, or the damn needle would break off inside her.
“Chloroform!” he commanded, hoping they hadn’t used the last of it in one of their previous jobs without re-stocking. But it was as he’d feared when Liam shook his head. They were out.
“This is all we have,” said Ash. He knelt beside them again and attempted to straddle her, but she was strong, and he was holding a needle.
Will acted quickly. He moved a knee on either side of her body and pulled her back against his chest, minimizing the movement of her legs with his. He held her tight, securing her arms to her sides. Her head thrashed, so he had to turn his face away for fear of earning a broken nose.
Now Ashrim swung a leg over her to straddle her, looked Will in the eyes, and grabbed Helena’s right wrist, choosing her uninjured arm. She fought him mindlessly, her body overrun with magic that went against the very fabric of what she was. But Ashrim’s grip was hard. He turned her arm over and inserted the needle at her vein.
He pressed the plunger steadily, emptying the syringe’s contents into her just as Liam had done.
Will watched the clear liquid disappear before Ash pulled the needle back out, and like a magic of its own, the medicine began working at once. Within seconds, the tension was leaving Helena’s body. In his arms, she slowly stopped fighting, gradually relaxing against him. Her eyes blinked open and then shut again, her teeth unclenched. She moaned low, a sound that spoke of soreness and misery, but of sweet relief as well. Her head turned against his chest, and he had the desperate urge to gently kiss it.
But his gaze slid to the bright red mark on her left forearm and reality slammed into him cold and hard. He glanced at the now-empty syringe on the ground beside Ash’s leg.
“Do you have enough of that stuff for another load?” he asked without looking up.
“Yes,” Ashrim replied.
Helena spoke up. Her voice was so soft, it was nearly a whisper, but it stopped everyone dead. “He’s coming,” she told them. Silence echoed her words. She opened her eyes again and tilted her head back to look up, meeting Will’s gaze. “Cain was right behind me,” she said. “And the door….” She swallowed and shook her head, just once. “It was wide open. For too long. We… have to shut it.”
Ashrim was the only one of them who seemed to fully understand the weight of what Helena was telling them, because he rose to his feet, then bent over to take Helena by the arm.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded and used his leverage to rise. But when she was vertical, she wobbled, and Ash gave her his shoulder to wrap her arm around for stability. “What the heck did you give me?” she asked, her words still very soft.
“A healthy dose of morphine and sodium amytal,” replied Liam as he picked up the syringe and moved around her to help steady her with an arm around her waist. “Feel better?”
Will stood up to join them, but his eyes skirted to the discarded branding iron.
Helena was silent a moment, then seemed to regain focus. “Well… I’m not in agony,” she told them. “So yeah.” She took a few steps and stopped, and the two of them stopped beside her. “But I don’t know if I can fight like this.”
“You won’t have to,” said Liam.
“We’ll protect you,” said Ash. They moved out of the dungeon and into the hall beyond. “We need to find some way to shut that door.”
Cain’s deep and cold laughter sounded in Will’s head as he watched them go.
Will turned around to the still-smoldering fire pit behind him. Darryl was about to pour water on the coals. When he saw Will and the look on Will’s face, the zombie stopped. His hand froze over the metal pit, the container of water an inch short of pouring out.
She’s right, Will, said Cain That door was swung wide open with Darryl’s sloppy spell. The dark realm’s monsters are escaping into your world. Even now...
And I’m right behind them.
Ash and Liam were long gone down the hall when Will bent and picked up the iron. Darryl simply observed him in silence as he approached and replaced the iron in the pit. Their gazes met. Silent understanding passed between them.
I’m going to save you for last, Will. Now Cain was serious, his tone deceptively calm and ominous as blood-tipped glass. You, your cousin, your sentinel and your warlock…. You’re all going to live forever. Allowing you to die would finish it too soon. You’ve kept me from Helena, and what did I promise you? More laughter, but it was even more cold and harsh than before. There will be no end to your pain.
Will was resolute. And right now he was realizing a few things… like the fact that he, too had held that special coin in his pocket before Liam had slipped it into Helena’s at the gym. And the fact that he, too had ingested the potion – when he’d taken a sip of his beer to show Helena it was safe. And he, too had been kissed. He’d kissed Helena. Three parts of the four-part spell had been cast not only on the Promised One, but on Will.
All that was missing was the brand. And Cain would no longer be able to slither his way into his mind. He would no longer pose that kind of threat.
Will grabbed the cool side of the iron and lifted it from the pit. The end glowed red-hot once more. He met Darryl’s eyes again and waited, hoping Darryl would understand. Will needed one more favor.
Darryl understood. The warlock lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.
When Will and the zombie reappeared together several miles outside the safe house in a secluded copse of trees in the Pennsylvania forest, Will wasted no time. He exposed his left wrist, turned the iron over, and pressed the red-hot brand into his forearm.
He fell to his knees, and no one in the safe house heard him scream.