Chapter Five
Why in the world he woke up to go jogging, Jonah didn’t know.
He didn’t jog. Didn’t run. Never had. Never wanted to.
So why was he out on the pavement at five thirty in the morning, the soles of his shoes slapping on the sidewalk in a fast, steady rhythm? He was working on rebuilding his strength, but doing it out on the concrete, before the sun had risen, wasn’t the way he’d rather go about rebuilding his strength.
So why in the hell was he out here?
Jonah had no clue. Dragging in a breath of cold, almost-icy air, he turned the corner, glancing up to see the darker outline of trees against the lightening sky.
It was the dark, quick shadow that finally clued him in. A human-shaped shadow. Without even seeing his face, Jonah knew it was Grayson. His nephew. And somehow, he knew the boy was up to no good.
Sending a wry glance to the heavens, he muttered, “Try a direct route next time. One that doesn’t involve me and exercise, especially not this early.”
Grayson was slipping into the nature preserve, and something told Jonah he wasn’t out exercising. At least, it wasn’t the body he was exercising. Jonah could feel death. Not new, but not ancient either.
This was where the boy killed the animals he caught.
Lyssa couldn’t have possibly grasped the gravity of the situation, either.
Her son was storing power.
Jonah had been somewhat prepared for this, although he hadn’t realized it until now. There was a line of power he had to cross to get closer to the boy, and the sheer depth of the power was staggering.
Frightening—how in the hell had Grayson figured out how to do this?
He was building a hidey-hole—someplace where he could do magic, unknown, unseen. It took a great amount of power to create such a void, a place that would suck up and hide all the magic done within.
How could somebody so young have that much power?
As he watched the boy lift his head, start to glance around, Jonah silently murmured a series of words. The boy’s eyes passed over the spot where Jonah stood without seeing him.
It was a glamour, one he’d used often. It didn’t make him invisible—it was more like camouflage, hiding his body so that he blended in with his surroundings. All the boy saw was trees, brush and darkness.
With a smug, arrogant grin, the boy turned back to the entrance to his hidey-hole, certain none had seen him. Of course, the earliness of the hour took care of a lot of that, but the boy wouldn’t consider that. With the arrogance and I-know-everything attitude of youth, he’d be convinced his power was scaring everybody away.
In time, a few more weeks, he’d be right.
In a few more weeks, if he kept going, the dark magic would start to taint this area, and people would avoid it without even understanding why. It was entirely possible that Lyssa could walk through these woods without even sensing the void.
Jonah sighed, his glamour falling away as he started to walk around the web that couldn’t be seen, the base of Grayson’s hidey-hole. It was good. Damn good. A boy that young shouldn’t have that kind of power. Damn it, Lyssa must be going out of her mind with this one. She was gifted, but her talents were those of a psychic, not of a witch. She could sense her son’s power, but she was clueless how to train him.
Why didn’t she come to me, ask for help? I could have helped.
A familiar sigh whispered through his mind. Sansan softly said, She wanted to come to you—but you weren’t exactly a pillar of witchy morals. You never used blood-borne magics, but neither did you turn away from the darker roads.
Jonah flinched. He wished, just once, the angel would be a little less blunt. The angel chuckled and then was gone, leaving Jonah to stare, debate and regret.
The hidey-hole had to go. Jonah had no doubt about that. He’d have to tear it down. He’d already flexed his magic muscles, so to speak, and he knew his power hadn’t changed when Sansan had done his little body-switching routine. He had his memories as Adamm, and his magic. Tearing it down would be simple enough.
He could even knock that boy into a spell-induced sleep. Once the boy was under, he could figure how just how deep the boy was. If he was unconscious, Grayson’s shields would be weaker. Jonah could see if he was as good at manipulating people into doing the right thing as he’d been at convincing them to do the wrong thing.
If Grayson was well and truly evil, it wouldn’t work. But if he was just young and stupid and curious, it would settle into the boy’s soul and he’d start to question himself. That would give his mama the hold she needed. Just a little bit of doubt and all this darkness could be undone.
Plus, knocking him out would take one worry from Jonah’s shoulders. He would have his hands full with just the backlash from the breaking spell. That power would light up like a beacon and every magic-gifted soul around would feel it, sense it. And some would probably come hunting for it.
He crept closer, moving feet so silent the woods around him barely even sensed his presence. Muffling it, masking it, using the magic to keep his passage even more silent, he moved until he had reached the outermost layer of the magic-spun web. This close, he could sense what was going on within. Since the hidey-hole wasn’t complete, just the skeletal work, it didn’t completely hide the boy’s presence. Masked, yes, but not hidden.
Something living. Something hurting. Fear.
Something not human…and something all too human.
The boy was scared. Confused. And this was the only place he allowed himself to feel such emotions.
Jonah reached out with one hand, holding it above the fabric of the web, as his eyes drifted shut.
Fuck…there’s a pup in there. Up until now, Grayson hadn’t killed anything larger than a rabbit or a squirrel. The larger the kill, the more power its death released. He was working his way up.
In his mind’s eye, Jonah could see the puppy, whining softly in his throat, big liquid brown eyes staring at Grayson, terrified. The animal could sense the death in there. It huddled against a sapling, leashed, trapped…helpless.
Damn it, this is out of hand already.
He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t entirely certain he could do anything about Grayson. It may already be too late. He was going to try, though.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he focused on the leash. There were already some grayed areas, one spot that looked like it had been chewed on quite a bit. That was where he focused his power, using it to weaken the fibers of the leash.
The frayed ends of the leash fell apart, but the dog, unaware that it was free, continued to huddle there and whimper, watching Grayson. Jonah used a bit more magic to tug on the dog’s tail. The pup yelped and took off running. The hidey-hole wasn’t complete enough to keep the dog trapped inside and the little furball fled, still whimpering as he left behind the dark place that smelled of things rotten and dying.
Jonah used the magic to muffle his presence as the boy came tumbling out after the puppy, only to stop as he realized the dog was already long gone.
Grayson swore and angrily kicked a tree before stomping back into the hidey-hole. He left a few minutes later, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of the long black coat he wore. The affectations that boy had adopted would have made Jonah grin. But Grayson had so much darkness, so much anger inside him.
Jonah didn’t have much time left.
***
An hour later, he sat on the porch, drinking from a cup of coffee and watching the house across the street. As Grayson came out, he tossed a sneer back at his mom.
Jonah wanted to grab the boy and shake him until he showed his mother some respect. “Probably not the ideal way to help the kid,” he muttered as Grayson headed to the bus stop just down the street.
Lyssa waited on the porch, watching her son with concerned, angry eyes.
At least she wasn’t blind to what her son was doing. It had her completely torn up inside.
Why in the hell couldn’t Grayson see what he was doing to her?
“It’s been my experience kids are rather blind to what they do to their parents,” a soft voice murmured.
Slanting his head to the side, he stared at Lily as she sauntered across the grass to join him on the porch. She wore jeans and a pale blue sweater that stretched across her breasts. Leaning against the railing, she folded her arms over her belly and met his gaze.
Blood already starting to course through his veins with heated anticipation. Lily… Even before he saw her face he knew it was her. Listening to her speak, with that throaty, raspy voice, was as arousing, or more so, than another woman doing a striptease.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked, keeping his voice level. He hadn’t been talking out loud.
“I can feel it,” she said simply. “I already told you I’m not digging through your head. All I did was look at you as I walked, looked at your face, thought of you and it was just there, like words on paper.”
He slid his eyes back to Grayson’s house, cocking a brow. She shook her head. “No. I don’t know what he is thinking. He isn’t very easy to read. All that anger, all that rage inside him.”
She fell quiet as a bus turned the corner and rolled to a stop in front of a waiting group of kids. Neither of them spoke as the kids climbed aboard the bus. As it started to pull away, she said, “He tried something this morning, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
A troubled look crossed her face and absently, she reached up over her shoulder and rubbed at something high on her back. “I thought so. It was over quick, but I knew I’d felt something. What did he try to do?”
Jonah shook his head as he felt eyes on them. Lifting his gaze, he saw Lyssa staring at them, a thoughtful look on her face. Some protective instinct within her had been roused. He remembered that look, that searching, questing look as she reached out with her nebulous gifts.
She was rusty—she hadn’t used her gifts in a long time, but she still knew how to use them. He forced an easy smile and lifted a hand in a nonchalant wave, forcing his mind to remain blank.
Glancing over her shoulder, Lily saw the other woman. Her lips curved into a similar smile, distant and friendly, as she waved at Lyssa.
Lyssa didn’t return the gesture, just disappeared inside her house. As the door closed behind her, Jonah stood. “If we’re going to talk about this, we probably shouldn’t do it out here.”
“I doubt she could hear us,” Lily said. Then she gestured to his house. “We can talk inside, though, if you want. I get the feeling you do want to talk to me…right?”
He didn’t answer as he opened the front door and gestured for her to enter. As she sauntered inside, he followed, forcing his eyes away from the graceful sway of her hips.
“You do know this probably isn’t the best idea,” he said neutrally as she stopped in the middle of the hall and looked around.
“What isn’t the best idea?”
Jonah jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “You in my house. You barely know me. Not a good idea to follow a strange man into his house. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”
“Well, technically, I came in first and you followed me. And no…strange men were the least of my mother’s concerns.” Then she laughed and with a glint in her eye, added, “I dare say I can handle most anything a man were to throw at me. And toss him a few surprises.”
“Yes. I imagine you could,” he said quietly, his eyes narrowing on her face. Tossing his keys down on the table, he padded into the sparsely decorated living room, flopping down on the couch as Lily reached out to turn on a light. His muscles felt like putty—the run had actually felt rather good on the way back, cleansing somehow, but now he felt like his bones had been swapped out for rubber.
She lowered herself into the ratty armchair, curling her legs up to her chest like a little cat. Jonah’s body stirred as he stared at her through slitted eyes, trying to remind his body this wasn’t what he was here for—he had done enough fucking in his life. That, combined with every other selfish thing he had done was why he was here, trying desperately to save his soul before it was too late.
But damn it, he wanted her.
“The boy’s building a hidey-hole,” Jonah said softly. “You know what they are?”
She quirked a brow at him, that raven-dark, feathery brow rising, as she softly said, “I assume you talking about a power center. He’s hoarding power?”
“And hiding it. Power centers are usually very easy to locate. Unless they are hidden between here and the next plane,” Jonah said. “And he’s hiding it well. Too well, for somebody as young as he is.”
“How is he building his power center?” she asked, her face dark and troubled.
Jonah blew out a breath, closing his eyes as he muttered, “Guess.”
In a flat, tight voice, she replied, “Blood. He’s killing to gain power, isn’t he?” She surged up off the chair, pacing, her long legs scissoring back and forth, her hands curling into tight fists. Her eyes flashed with anger and helplessness. She came to a halt in front of the window, staring out at the house across the street.
“Damn it, he is just a boy!”
“Not in his mind. And no matter what happens, his innocence is gone. He kissed it goodbye when he made his first kill. It’s just small things right now, but he’s ready to work his way up,” Jonah said. “I just don’t understand how a kid, that young, alone, was able to find out how to build such a power source. It’s not like it’s something you find in Wicca for Beginners.”
Lily shook her head. “There’s nothing Wiccan about what he is doing. I don’t agree with their beliefs, but Wiccans cause no harm to others.”
“You’re not Wiccan?” he asked levelly, lifting a brow as he studied her face.
“No. I’m not,” she said shortly. “Any more than you are. What are we going to do about this?”
“We?”
She blew out a breath, whirling to face him, and Jonah saw the exasperation in her eyes. “Damn it, why must you answer every question with a question? Yes, we. You think I can walk away from a boy who is trying to destroy his life? And those around him?”
“Well, it’s not like you know him.”
“And you do?” she snapped.
Jonah smiled slightly. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, now could he? “Good point, Lily,” he whispered. “Very good point.”
As he watched, the anger drained from her face and she pushed a hand through that thick wealth of black curls. He wondered if her hair was as silky, as soft, as it looked. “Somebody once told me that if everybody did what they could, instead of turning a blind eye, this world might not be in the sad shape it is in,” she told him.
Sounded like something Sansan would say, Jonah mused. “Some people are very optimistic.”
“Well, there is that. But he was right. If we see something wrong, and turn a blind eye, aren’t we as guilty as the wrongdoers?” she asked softly, reaching out with her hand and touching the cold pane of glass as she stared out the window. Then she turned around and looked back at him, with dark, tormented eyes.
Such sad eyes… Jonah felt his heart twist in his chest as he stared at her exotic face. So lovely, so strong…and the echo of heartbreak in her eyes.
“I suppose we are,” he finally replied. “So, the question was…what are we going to do about it?”
Lily listened as he outlined what he wanted to do.
“You know that if you do this wrong, it could kill him,” she finally told him.
His face tightened and she wished she could have found a better way to say that. There was something about this boy that was important to Jonah. That boy wasn’t just some random child who had fallen into darkness, she suspected. It was there in his eyes, in the tightening of his mouth, as though he was battling back some terrible grief.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, pressing the pads of his fingers to his eyes. “But we have to do it…and we have to do it now, before Grayson gets in this mess any deeper.”
“Grayson…is that his name?”
Jonah’s lids flickered and then he nodded. “Yes.”
“How do you know him?”
“I don’t.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“Then how do you know his name?”
Jerking his shoulder in a shrug, Jonah replied, “I heard it around.”
Well, isn’t that vague. Lily pursed her lips and debated on whether it was worth the trouble to try again. She wanted to know who that boy was to Jonah, but he wasn’t going to tell her.
“So are we doing this or what?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. We’re doing this.”
Now would be good. She doubted she’d done enough to prove herself. If she was going to fail, she at least wanted to do one good thing with the life that had been given to her. She needed it—she needed to know that the risk she’d taken hadn’t been all for nothing. That she’d done something to make a difference.
Grayson could be that difference.
And if they waited too long, the boy would find the courage to kill again. Just animals now—but soon, he’d have a craving for more power than a mere rabbit or dog could give him. If they stopped him before he got a taste of true, blood-borne power, they just might have a chance.
Of course, the destruction of such power would light up the demon world like lightning. Her mother would feel it—would she come to investigate? Lily could always hope that one young boy wouldn’t draw the interest of the Queen of All Demons. But Lily didn’t place much hope in that.
Which meant Lily just might come face-to-face with her mother—Lilith.
Lily feared her. Greatly. Even with Sansan’s promise, she feared her. Lilith had roamed the world for centuries untold, and had a thirst for causing pain.
Taking a deep, shaking breath, she flashed Jonah a bright, brittle smile. “So, when do we do it?”
She should have known she couldn’t hide how she felt though. He had seen the fear in her eyes. His own narrowed as he studied her and she fought the urge to squirm under that intense gaze.
“Why do you suddenly look so afraid?” he asked softly.
“Blood magic, possibilities of death, what’s not to be afraid of?” she quipped.
He didn’t buy it. “Try again.”
“Does it really matter?” Sighing, she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. How had this all happened? She had a sinking suspicion she knew the answer to that, though.
She didn’t know this man. Not really. But she felt drawn to him despite that. She’d felt drawn to him the moment those vivid green eyes had opened and he had grabbed her hand, holding on to her like a man drowning.
It wasn’t coincidence that had crossed their paths. Lily would bet her life on it.
Sansan. Somehow, Sansan had orchestrated this.
Put her into close contact with Grayson, the equivalent to catnip for demons, and into close contact with Jonah, a man that had some of her baser instincts rising to the fore.
“I think maybe it does matter,” he said, lifting his shoulder in a restless shrug.
She frowned, wondered idly what he was talking about—they had been talking about something. But the rest of her was focused on that lovely body of his, the way his muscles moved under his shirt as he shrugged, the way the cotton clung to hard, lean muscles.
Something inside stirred, heat unfurling within her belly stirred, a demon she tried to forget rose within her, the hungry bite of lust. Inanely, she said, “You continue to recover rather well.”
Very well. He looked strong. When he’d left the hospital three weeks ago, he’d looked healthy enough and well on the road to recovery. Looking at him now, one would never guess that he’d spent three years in a coma, lost somewhere between life and death.
“Yes. Thanks to you. And don’t change the subject—what are you so afraid of?”
Swallowing, she forced herself to look back at his face. From the brief glint in his eyes, she knew her preoccupation hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Who says I am afraid?”
“Your eyes. Your face. It’s written all over you,” he said simply.
“Again, I ask you why does it matter? Being afraid isn’t going to make me walk away.”
“Tell me why you’re afraid.” He watched her with intense eyes and she suspected he’d continue to wait until she gave him an answer. “The fear I see in your eyes isn’t the kind of fear that gets brushed aside easily.”
I don’t know about that. For a second there, she hadn’t been afraid. She’d been hungry. Then he had to go and remind her. The fear was crowding back in. Thanks, she thought bitterly.
“I don’t intend to brush it aside. But don’t worry.” Forcing out a shuddering breath, she forced the bands that squeezed around her heart to relax. Lilith had no control over her. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t doubt that. But I’d certainly like to know what, or who, caused such fear, because if it’s going to turn around and bite us on the ass, I want to know,” he said.
No, you really don’t. Being forewarned wasn’t enough with Lilith. It never was when you were facing a creature that would just as soon feast on a man’s life force as she fucked him to death—literally. Some men might think there could be worse ways to go, but they’d never come up against Lilith.
Leaning forward, she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the table. Turning to a blank page, she started to sketch. Drawing had always soothed her, on the rare moment she was able to indulge in leisure. But drawing this only increased the fear.
Szardi’s power was long living, indeed. His pendants should never have existed this long.
In a tight voice, she spoke as she continued to sketch on the Hyari, the symbol of her mother’s touch. “Long ago, a woman fled from what she had been born to do. Men of power were sent to retrieve her and she refused. It seems like such a simple thing doesn’t it? People refuse to do things all the time, even when it’s their responsibility…perhaps even their fate. People often refuse. But this woman, she had evil in her heart, selfishness, greed, a hunger for all things she could not possess. She was cast out, cast down. In time, she grew a great power. How, exactly, I do not know. Her pleasure in life was tainting the pure, the innocent. Disruption, pain and chaos are the footprints she leaves behind. There was a man who worshipped this demon and he became one of her first priests. His name was Szardi.”
She turned the pad of paper around and tossed it on the table. “I will not speak the name of the pendant. Or of her. To do so is to invite her to come a-visiting. The pendants he created were imbued with great power. This power sleeps, until a worthy bearer is found, a person, preferably young, and always full of power and doubt. Once the pendant chose its bearer, it would once again sleep—until the time the bearer used a great, dark magic and then it would summon her.”
She saw the speculation in his eyes as they flickered from her somber face to the pad of paper. Quietly, he said, “Grayson wears that symbol around his neck. I’ve never seen one like it before.”
“They hide,” she told him simply. “It’s in their nature. Some have indeed been destroyed. Others may have become lost to the ages. They are very, very old. I can’t believe they still exist after all this time, but one does and it somehow found Grayson.”
“Who is she? This…story…sounds like some kind of horror flick,” he said, rising and starting to pace.
“I will not speak her name.” Lily shook her head, folding her hands and tucking them between her knees, clamping her legs together to keep him from seeing her shaking. “But I know her, her power, her evil. She may indeed come hunting for him.”
“That’s why you’re afraid?” He glanced at the paper, and then back at her face. “Because you think this woman…demon…whatever, will come looking for Grayson.”
“Yes.”
“A great deal of magic will release when the power center is destroyed.” Narrowing his eyes, he said, “And it will all center on him. He’s going to light up like the Fourth of July.”
Touching her tongue to her lips, she wetted them nervously. “Yes.”
“I take it that anybody with the boy is going to be seen as an obstacle.”
Lily nodded. “She destroys those who in are her path,” she whispered. “But I have some protection from her.” Her lashes flickered as the mark on her shoulder started to burn. “I would be safe from her, no matter what, even if I failed to protect the boy. But I cannot guarantee his safety, if she comes. In a battle against her, I fear I’d most surely lose.”
There was one chance, though. It wasn’t one that she would share. If she could wait for the power backlash, it would leave Grayson helpless for a brief moment.
She could lay the mark of The Three on him. Their mark would protect him from Lilith and the lilum. But she’d have to wait.
When the power backlashed on him, that would be her chance. It would only be a small window, though. When the power backlashed, it would leave him helpless and the surge of power would also call out to Lilith.
“Then how do we stop her?” Jonah asked flatly.
She forced a tremulous smile. “We’ll have to take our chances.” She said it easily, without blinking, without looking away. No false hopes—she’d either succeed or she’d fail. But she wouldn’t offer false hope.