THIRTY-SEVEN
Josephine the vampire stood beneath a blue sky. In godsdamned sunlight. In front of this random demon.
Too many thoughts to process:
She’s a day-walking vampire, a hybrid. But of what?
Such an asset for the Møriør.
Not even Blace can go out in the sun.
Protect the asset.
Protect. What’s. Mine.
Rune snatched Deshazior’s hair, yanking the demon’s head back.
Suddenly a chill swept over him. He glanced up. Josephine was gone—
His blade hand flung away from the demon, outside his control. His other hand balled into a fist—and slammed into his own jaw! Then again! “What the fuck, demon?”
Freed, Deshazior traced across the clearing. “Not me, baneblood.”
Rune fought with all his strength, finally able to overcome the force.
Another chill ran through him. Then Josephine stepped out of his body.
She was a faint outline, the skin around her eyes so dark. Her hair billowed as she floated.
She’d been inside him. She’d possessed him! The shadowed eyes, the immunity to sun . . .
Josephine was half phantom.
He turned to Deshazior, saw the demon’s recognition of the same. Can’t allow him to live.
“Didn’t get enough, Rune?” Her voice was as ghostly as her appearance. She sank into the ground.
He pivoted, jerking his head around. Where the hells was she?
A spectral hand breached the surface, clamping his ankle, dragging him down.
He fought, but his own body was dematerializing! Every kick passed through the ground. There was no defense against this. If she wanted, she could haul him to the core of this world, where he’d be crushed to death.
Or worse, what if he didn’t die?
He bellowed with frustration when he’d sunk to his waist and his arms uselessly passed through rock. “Josephine!” To his horror, she crawled up his body until they were face to face, her ghostly hands clinging to his chest.
She was faint, her visage almost colorless, except for her irises. In her phantom form, they glowed, brilliant blue and amber.
“We’ve talked about your hurting Desh. It’s not happening, understand?”
“Release me!”
“If I do, you’ll go solid. Sure you want me to?” They began to rise, like heated air. Once clear of the ground, she let him go.
As he materialized, she levitated, face frightfully beautiful. “You”—she pointed at Deshazior—“vow to the Lore you’ll never say anything about me. You”—she pointed at Rune—“vow you won’t hurt Desh.”
The demon readily said, “I vow to the Lore that I’ll say naught about ye to anyone.”
Rune’s gaze was locked on Deshazior. “You and I both know what she is. And we both know that vow’s not good enough.” He traced to his knife, telling Josephine, “Will you trust me for once? The demon has to go.” When he lunged for his foe, she gave a panicked cry.
Rune’s body went flying, crashing into the rock face. Stone cracked; ribs cracked. The entire mountain vibrated.
He fell to the ground. Telekinesis too? Struggling for air, he grimaced from the pain in his side. “Enough, woman!”
Her otherworldly face was filled with menace. “Get it through your skull: you’re not going to murder him, okay? I’ll keep doing this until you make the vow!”
When she raised her hand at him, Rune bit out the words: “I vow to the Lore not to harm this demon. Today.” As soon as night fell . . .
She rolled her vivid eyes at that. “Another qualifier.”
“Accept that vow; it wasn’t easily given.” He forced himself to his feet, his ribs screaming. “We three will live. Today.” Though his bow was nigh indestructible, he checked it for damage. Unharmed. He exhaled in relief, then cringed with pain.
Deshazior cautiously approached her. “I’m good with the vow, Jo.” His awed gaze flicked over her pale face. “Ye never know what will pop up during an Accession, eh?”
She embodied, sinking to her feet. “You really know what I am? Because I don’t.”
“Ye’re part”—the demon’s voice dropped to a murmur—“phantom. Ye’re a shapeshifter betwixt life and death.”
“Phantom.” Her irises wavered again. “Phantom.” She said the word like she was trying it on. “Yeah. I like that.”
Nïx had said, Death and death all rolled into one.
“Ye saved me, l’il bit, and I’ll not forget it.”
She grinned. “Told you I was wicked strong.”
Rune regarded her with disbelief. She has no idea. He’d already had no intention of letting her go; now there was even more motive to keep her close.
Which had nothing to do with the fact that—in the heat of the moment—he’d thought of her as his.