Chapter Thirteen
“Meaning?” Taryn asked, arching a brow.
Evan opened his mouth and shut it again. “Nope. Not going there. Said too much already. You wanna know more, ask Conall.”
“An excellent suggestion.” Taryn drew herself up. “I shall do that, and now.”
“You can’t leave,” said Cassie. “What about Duncan?”
“I shall seek Conall’s counsel on that as well.” Favoring Evan with a look that would freeze-dry stone, Taryn vanished.
“Brr,” said Evan. “I’m on her list. I hate that list.”
Duncan moaned and thrashed his head on the pillow. The sound tore through Cassie like a knife. Crossing the room in two strides, she shoved Evan against the wall, her demon blood up and howling for release. She was about to have a meltdown, and it was not going to be pretty.
“It’s not Taryn you should be worried about, or Conall,” she snarled. “Tell me what you know—right damn now—or so help me God, I’ll put a whammy on you that’ll make the Hag’s tinkering seem like child’s play.”
“Easy.” Evan’s eyes widened. “No need to get testy.”
“This isn’t me being testy. This is me being nice.” Cassie jabbed him in the chest with the end of her finger for emphasis. “But my nice is wearing thin. You think you’ve been unlucky so far?” Jab. “Everything you try, every venture, no matter how small, will go straight in the crapper. You’ll lose your shirt, your home, your money. Relationships?” Jab. “Nada. You’ll be a pariah. Hounded and run out of town on a rail. Your health?” Jab. “I’ll curse you with a case of the backdoor trots so bad the CDC will declare you a one-man outbreak and quarantine you to protect the public.”
Evan stared at her. “Jesus. And I thought your mama was scary.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started. That thing between your legs? When I’m done, you won’t be able to find it with tweezers and an electron microscope.”
“It’s a hunch, okay? Conall will have my head if I yap.”
“And I’ll have your head if you don’t. Rock, meet hard place.”
The temperature in the room plummeted, and frost coated the walls and floor.
“What the—” Cassie released Evan and looked around.
“Captain Ice Dick, unless I’m mistook.” Eyeing her like a snake, Evan eased out of reach. “The artic-waste routine is Conall’s calling card, the big show-off. Why don’t you ask him why your boyfriend’s not healing?”
“I intend to. And Duncan’s not my boyfriend.”
“Never try to bullshit a bullshitter, lady. You just threatened to micro-dick me. Trust me, you’re emotionally involved.”
Cassie flushed. “It’s not like that. We’re just—”
“Friends? Keep telling yourself that. Bee-tee-dubs, Duncan hasn’t got friendship in mind. He’s in lurv.” Evan made a face. “Told him women are more trouble than they’re worth, but he wouldn’t listen. You can’t tell a demon hunter dick.”
Conall materialized with Taryn before Cassie could think of a snappy comeback. It wasn’t like that. Really. She and Duncan had history. They were . . . frenemies? Exes with baggage? Former flames?
Shrugging off her discomfiture, she turned to address her guests. The captain of the Dalvahni was dark-haired with cold, black eyes. Powerfully built, he radiated a ruthless, implacable energy that screamed authority. Unlike Duncan, he wore his hair short. Jeans and a black shirt that said Chez Beck’s on the front were molded to his hard, muscular frame.
A huge warrior accompanied Conall and Taryn. Grim Dalvahni was a giant of a man, with long, reddish-brown hair the color of autumn leaves and eyes like beaten gold. Like Conall, he was dressed in jeans. A gray T-shirt stretched across his massive chest.
“Big ’Un. Long time no see.” Evan jerked his chin at the huge warrior. “Cassie, this is Grim, the one I was telling you about. Grim, meet Cassandra Ferguson.”
“Milady.” The warrior had a voice like distant thunder. He eyed Cassie curiously. “I have heard much of you from Duncan.”
Cassie didn’t have to look at Evan. She could feel him smirking.
“You have?” She colored. “I mean . . . how do you do?”
“How do I do what?”
“Oh, for the Lord’s—” Evan rolled his eyes. “Sometimes, Big ’Un, you are such a putz.”
“I thank you for the compliment.” Grim inclined his head. “In Yarthac, the word ‘strikynpussle’ means ‘shining one.’”
“No shit? It means something entirely different here.”
“Enough.” Conall’s hard gaze was on Duncan’s battered, unconscious form. “What mischief is this?”
“Demons,” Evan said. “Whole passel of them. Our boy looks rough, doesn’t he?”
In a blur of movement too fast to follow, Conall grabbed Evan by the neck and shook him. “He is not your ‘boy.’ He is a Dalvahni warrior, ancient and powerful, defender of the light and shield of the weak. You think this amusing? By the sword, if you had any part in this, you will be wearing your guts for garters.”
“Love you, too, bro,” Evan wheezed, plucking at Conall’s hands. “Nice . . . to know . . . the fam jam . . . has my back.”
Conall’s white teeth flashed in a snarl. “We are not family, varlet.” He gave Evan another shake. “Why does my brother not heal? Answer me.”
“Enough, Conall. You misjudge him. ’Tis not his doing.”
Everyone turned to stare at the bed. Duncan was awake, his golden-brown eyes dulled by pain and fever. “Evan saved my life today.” He tried to push himself to a sitting position and failed. “Twice, in point of fact. I am in his debt.”
Conall flung Evan aside. “Is this true?”
“Yeah. I’m a bona fide hero.” Sneering, Evan got to his feet. “Chaps your ass, don’t it, bro? Duncan got attacked by demons, and I monstered out—”
“You released the ogre?” Grim scowled in disapproval. “That was unwise.”
“I’ve already had this discussion with Duncan. It happens, Big ’Un, okay?”
Conall noticed Verbena and strode up to her. “Verbena, where have you been? Rebekah has been frantic with worry.”
Verbena blushed. “I’m terrible sorry to have worried her, Mr. Conall, but I had to leave. Them Skinners is after me.”
“Rebekah and I can protect you.”
She shook her head. “I caused you enough trouble. You got your hands full, what with the new baby a-comin’, and the restaurant, and Hank lightin’ out.”
“You will come home with me,” Conall said in a take-no-prisoners tone. “We will discuss it.”
Verbena blanched but held firm. “You know I thinks the world of you and Beck, Mr. Conall, and I’m more grateful ’n I can say for all you done, but my mind’s made up.” She gave Cassie a sidelong glance. “’Sides, Miz Cassie needs me. Ain’t that right, miss?”
“What?” Cassie had been listening with half an ear, her worried gaze on Duncan. “Yes, of course.” She jerked her attention to Conall. “I’d like Verbena to stay with me, if that’s all right with you and Beck.”
Conall bowed. “Verbena is a free agent. We will miss her sunny presence, but the decision is hers. I will inform Rebekah.”
Duncan groaned, ending the discussion. He made another valiant effort to sit up in bed and collapsed against the bank of pillows. “Captain, I have grievous news,” he said, his breathing labored. “I have seen the rogue, and he is—” He gasped and arched his back in pain. Bloody streaks of infection snaked across his arms and chest. “Rogue . . .” His face was blotched and gray. He groaned and twisted in agony. “Know him . . . Must—”
With a strangled gasp, Duncan slumped against the pillows and was still.
Heedless of his leaking wounds, Cassie threw herself on top of him. “Duncan?” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Open your eyes, Duncan. Wake up, damn you.”
Grim lifted her from the bed and set her aside as easily as if she were a child. “Fear not for my brother. No demon mischief can withstand the combined magic of the Dal and the Kir.”
Cassie nodded and stumbled out of the way, giving the demon hunters access to Duncan. Evan moved to stand beside her at the end of the bed. Numbly, Cassie joined him. She felt a tentative touch on her arm and turned.
Verbena stood at her side, her violet eyes swimming with tears. “He looks bad, miss.” The girl’s mouth trembled. “Is he gon’ die?”
A tear trickled down Cassie’s face. Angrily, she wiped it away. “I’ll kick him into next week if he does.”
As they watched, the trio of demon hunters gathered around Duncan and held out their hands. Green light emanated from them, enveloping Duncan. As the light eddied and pulsed around him, the sores began to heal, the hideous red lines fading to pink and slowly receding.
Verbena clutched Cassie’s arm. “Look, Miz Cassie. It’s working.”
“Yes, I do believe you’re right.” Slowly, Cassie released the breath she’d been holding. “His wounds do seem to be—”
The streaks pulsed in a sickening fashion and turned black, slithering across Duncan’s limp form like hideous worms. His eyes flew open, starting in their sockets. With a horrible gurgle, he convulsed, his big body bouncing on the bed in wrenching spasms. White foam flecked his lips.
The vise around Cassie’s heart and lungs tightened. They were losing him. On impulse, she grabbed Verbena’s hand and opened her mind, reaching for the magic.
It was a simple ritual, one she’d done countless times by rote. Of late, though, she’d found it increasingly hard to concentrate, and the magic had been elusive. There was no time to fetch a staff to channel the magic, and that worried her. She fully expected the exercise to be a struggle, but today, it was like old times. The power flooded through her in an unbroken rush—her blood sang with it—and the energy flowing from her merged with that of the Dalvahni.
“By the sword,” Grim swore as the light they projected deepened from a pale green to deep jade.
The loathsome threads of sickness infecting Duncan’s body disintegrated and his unsightly sores healed and disappeared. He sat up with a shuddering gasp, his broad chest heaving, and looked around, his gaze lucid and fever-free. “Sweet Kehv, but you are a gloomy lot,” he said. “Why the long faces?”
“My brother.” Conall’s implacable gaze softened. “It is good to see you recovered. You had us worried.”
Cassie regarded Duncan anxiously. Conall was right. Duncan seemed in fine fettle, his once-ravaged skin smooth, sun-kissed, and gleaming with health. A force field of strength and well-being surrounded him, and he vibrated with energy. The combination of Dalvahni woo-woo, her magic, and a dash of the enhancer had restored him, and then some.
Duncan grinned and stretched. “Strewth, but I am famished. What is there to eat?”
His announcement swept away the last of Cassie’s doubts. “He’s hungry,” she said, her lips stretching in a grin so broad it threatened to swallow her ears. “Praise the Lord, I think he’ll live.”
A wave of sudden dizziness swept over her. Wobbling to the big chair by the window, she sat down.
“Miz Cassie,” Verbena cried, fluttering around Cassie’s chair. “Help me, somebody. She’s done fell out.”
Whoosh. Duncan crossed the room, knocking Evan aside. Cassie felt rather than saw him move. There was a slight, almost imperceptible displacement of air, and Duncan was at her side, hunkered at her knees, more than six feet of bare-chested, iron-hard, half-naked male.
“Hey,” Evan protested. “Run me over, why don’t you?”
Duncan grunted something that might have been an apology and gazed at Cassie, his golden-brown eyes filled with concern. “Cassandra, you are well?”
Cassie raised a trembling hand to her forehead. “Fine. Too much excitement and no breakfast, I think.”
“Coming to my aid on the heels of battling a demon has depleted your strength.” Duncan’s deep voice held censure. “’Twas foolish of you in the extreme.”
“Well, excuse me.” Cassie’s bosom swelled. “Verbena and I saved your life, ingrate.”
“Termagant,” Duncan said without heat. Turning to Verbena, he said, “Repair to the kitchen at once and fetch me a glass of fruit extract from the cold box.”
Verbena gaped at him. “Huh?”
“He means orange juice,” Cassie said. “There’s a container in the fridge.”
“Oh.” Verbena blinked. “Sure nuff.”
She loped out of the room and quickly returned with a jelly jar full of OJ. “Brung you the one with Bugs on it,” she told Cassie shyly. “He’s m’ fave.”
“Mine, too,” Cassie said. “Bugs is the man.”
Frowning, Duncan took the glass from Verbena. “Who is this Bugs?”
Good Lord, he was jealous of Bugs Bunny.
“A cartoon rabbit with attitude and a smarmy mouth,” Cassie said, her lips quivering.
His eyes went unfocused momentarily, then cleared. He examined the figure on the glass. “You refer to an anthropomorphic character drawn in a humorously exaggerated way, known for his flippant repartee and insouciant mien. He appeals to your sense of the ridiculous?”
“Big-time.”
“I should like very much to meet him.”
“Duncan, he’s a cartoon. He’s not real.” She blinked at a sudden thought. “Is he?”
“Nay. I dicketh with you, as Evan would say.”
“Wrong,” Evan said. “That is so not how Evan would say it.”
“No?” Duncan’s gaze did not waver from Cassie. “The Provider is sometimes inaccurate.” He held the glass to her lips. “No more talk. Drink.”
He was using the Voice, the stern don’t-mess-with-me tone he used when in warrior mode, but his eyes were alight with something—was it tenderness? Warmth?—that made her heart give a funny little jerk.
Waves of panic lapped at her belly. Yesterday, she and Duncan had been at odds, separated by their painful past. Today, they were . . .
Well, she wasn’t sure what they were, and it terrified her. She wanted to go back to the way they’d been before. Wary. Distant.
Sorry, toots. That hat won’t go back in the box.
Scowling to cover her discomposure, she snatched the glass from him and drained it. “There. Satisfied?”
“Not even a little, but I doubt we mean the same thing.”
Evan sniggered. “Hello. We’re still here.”
Cassie barely heard him. Duncan’s gaze had heated from warm to scorching hot. She looked away, her pulse doing the jitterbug. Duncan wanted her. It was there, in his eyes. She wanted him, too, and she wasn’t going to beat herself up about it. She was only human.
No, she was half human, and therein lay the rub. Her other half was demon, a hedonistic voluptuary intent on gratification and feel-good, and Duncan was a Dalvahni candy store stuffed to the brim with promised delights. Her human half screamed that candy was bad for her. Her demon half pressed its nose to the window and salivated at the scrumptious display.
Cassie couldn’t blame her demon. The guy was temptation walking.
Duncan seemed to guess her tumbled thoughts. He smoothed the crease between her brows with the tip of one finger. “Do not distress yourself. I have waited long for you. I will abide, my love.”
Panic welled, swallowing her. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your love.”
Conall interrupted them. “I must away, Duncan. In your extremis, you mentioned the rogue. What news have you?”
The warm twinkle in Duncan’s eyes died, replaced by something more like sorrow or dread. Turning, he strode across the room to answer Conall’s summons. Evan had retreated to the door of the bedroom. One shoulder propped against the frame, he watched Taryn like he was diabetic and she was a particularly tasty, sugary snack he longed to eat, even though he knew it would be bad for him, maybe even fatal.
Cassie could sympathize. Totally.
“—meet with you anon,” Duncan was saying to Conall. “’Tis a matter best discussed elsewhere.”
Evan pushed away from the door frame, lines of bitterness creasing his mouth. “Meaning without me. God forbid you let the low-life demonoid into your precious little club.”
“For once, we are in complete agreement,” Conall said. “Of a certainty, you are not to be trusted.” His black gaze remained on Duncan, unyielding, ruthless. “Your discretion does you credit, brother, but you need not scruple. Evan knows of the traitor.”
“Even so, Captain, I would speak of this another time.” Duncan’s voice was low, urgent. “My reluctance springs from another concern.”
“Set it aside, warrior. I would hear what you have to say, and now.”
“I would hear your tidings, as well,” Taryn said. “The rogue has led me a merry chase.”
“Captain,” Duncan said, glancing at Grim, “I beg you would—”
“Speak, warrior,” snapped Conall. “That is an order.”
“As you command,” Duncan said in a toneless voice. “I saw the rogue today in the company of demons. ’Twas clear he is their ally . . . nay, their leader. When I challenged him, the foul things came to his aid and abetted his escape.”
Grim clenched his huge fists, his expression hungry. “Name him. I would know this betrayer.”
“The traitor is Gryffin.” Duncan’s jaw tightened. “He lives.”
“Curse you, Duncan, you dare jest about this?” Grim said. “You go too far. Gryffin is dead. I buried him myself... or what was left of him. I buried his head.”
“Curse me until the stars fade from the sky. It changes nothing. I know not how we have been deceived, but Gryffin lives.”
Grim threw back his head and roared, the veins bulging on his neck. Without warning, he disappeared.
“Gryffin was our best and our brightest,” Conall said. “You are quite certain of this, Duncan?”
“Aye. We stood face-to-face, I and the betrayer. There can be no doubt.”
Conall’s harsh features hardened. “Then Gryffin has deceived us, and most foully. I will see him dead for his treachery.”
“Not if Grim gets to him first,” Evan said. “Did you see his face? He was steamed. Lay you odds he goes after the rogue himself.”
“I think not,” Taryn said, unruffled. “The rogue is mine, and I will brook no interference.”
“But surely you see that this changes everything?” said Conall. “The betrayer has been revealed. Grim cannot be allowed the pursuit, this I grant you—the rogue is his twin.” His expression hardened. “As captain of the Dalvahni, the task falls to me.”
“You took an oath before Kehvahn and signed the Great Book,” Taryn pointed out. “Would you be foresworn, same as the betrayer?”
Conall gave the huntress a withering look and departed in a howling flurry of wind and snow.