“Here, I’ll set it with the other one. And thanks. Ian, I know where the church is; you don’t have to look it up on your phone.” I pulled my car keys from my jeans and started for the door. “We’ll take my car.”
“Hey!” Aspen protested when Ian followed me out of the apartment. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Ian asked.
“I want to go with you.” She narrowed her eyes in a glare so potent it was just about able to shoot laser beams. “I have a thing or two I want to say to my husband. You can have the mage meet me at the church. Bring my arms.”
She sashayed out before me. I looked at Ian. “Do we have time to argue with her?”
“No,” he said, and gathered up her arms before following me out.
Chapter Sixteen
“WHAT IS IT ABOUT ME THAT MAKES YOU SO SICK TO your stomach?”
Ian flicked a glance over at Veronica. She had turned around in the car to look back at the Witness, who sat with her head, dog style, hanging out of the window.
“I don’t wear perfume because so many of those chemicals are bad for you, and I put deodorant on after my second shower, and this is Teresita’s second-favorite pair of yoga pants, so I don’t think they stink or anything.”
The Witness pulled her head in and curled her lip. “It has to be the demon in you. No one else has made me feel the way you do.”
“Gee, thanks.” Veronica looked astonished and mildly offended at the same time. “Although I have to say that even though dragon hunters technically have a demon side to their psyche, Ian thinks I don’t have much of one because my stepdad was changing my sister. Perhaps what’s making you sick is Ian? He’s got a huge demon side.”
“Thank you,” Ian said, once again amused by the way Veronica’s mind worked. She left him feeling adrift on a sea of the unexpected, and oddly, he relished that sensation. He could easily see himself spending years with her at his side, in his bed, and tangling herself up in the deepest, darkest depths of his soul. What there was left of it.
Only there would be no future. It was simply too dangerous to risk Anzo finding out about her.
“That sounded rude, didn’t it?” Veronica wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, Ian. I didn’t mean that you’re stinky or evil, but you do work for a demon lord, and you do have those tattoo brand things, and you said yourself that your demon bit tries to overtake the dragon side.”
“It’s not him,” the Witness said. “It’s you. By the dark earth master’s blood, you’re not a virgin, are you? Purity always makes me ill.”
“Hardly,” Veronica said with a conspiratorial glance at Ian that left him wishing they were back at his apartment. “I think maybe your nose is confused. Or whatever it is that makes you react to demons, because as I said, I don’t feel demonic at all. My sister’s demon side was in the process of going away, so it makes sense that I’m the same. It’s just me inside, and sometimes a lot of fiery intensity, but nothing evil. I think Ian has to be the answer.”
“It’s not him,” the Witness repeated. “I took a whiff of him when he left me in that hellhole you call an apartment, and he didn’t do anything but make my nose itch. This is all you.” She shot a grumpy look at Veronica and put her face back out into the air rushing past them as they drove to the church.
“How can my demon part be worse than yours?” Veronica asked him in a low voice, clearly affronted by the thought.
“It’s not a matter of being better or worse—because your sister was changed, you are different from most dragon hunters. However, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s not reacting to something that surely must reek of demon—your sword.”
“Deathsong isn’t bad,” Veronica said, bristling a little as she patted the sword at her side. “The spirit inside is happy to be out and about doing good in the world, instead of being forced to do evil for Falafel.”
“I have no doubt that’s true, but the rest of the sword was forged by a demon, and it could be your proximity to that which is making the Witness ill. Regardless, you are going to need every last bit of your dragon abilities in the next hour, so don’t worry about whether or not you smell demonic.”
“You think there’s going to be trouble at the church?” she asked, her knuckles whitening around the hilt of the sword.
“Of course there will be. Anything else would be far too easy.” He spoke with bleak humor but wasn’t sure if she caught it until she flashed a concerned look his way.
“It does kind of seem like we’re smack-dab in one of those weird indie movies where people walk around with a bowl of fruit salad in their arms while investigating the mysterious disappearance of an all-male glee club. Turn left at the light, then it’s the fourth right.”
“You watch vastly different indie movies than I do,” he commented, following her instructions.
“Why are you stopping here?” she asked a minute later. He pulled to a stop three blocks away from the church and parked the car beneath a voluminous walnut tree. “The church is a couple of blocks to the right.”
“It can’t hurt to keep our presence here quiet as long as possible,” he answered.
“Good point.”
“Now, here’s what we’re going to do,” the Witness announced. “You and the stinky evil one are going to provide a screen for me.”
Veronica turned to glare at the backseat. “You can just knock off the insults, because if there’s one thing almost twenty years of therapy has taught me, it’s that I do not need to take crap from anyone, especially a woman who evidently belongs to a cult that plans on killing two little girls in order to raise some Lovecraftian old god.”
“I don’t think Lovecraft had a very solid grip on just how horrible the dark earth master is,” Ian said, getting out of the car and opening the door for the Witness, who was trying to grip the door handle with her teeth.
“Really? That doesn’t sound good.” Veronica got out of the car looking a little worried, but stopped when Ian handed her the Witness’s arms. “Aw. How come I have to be on arm-carrying duty?”
He gave the Witness a little shove forward, keeping a grip on the back of her shirt in case she had ideas of bolting. “I’d let you escort her, but I’d prefer to keep her from vomiting until we are done. Proceed, woman.”
“Damn you!” the Witness snarled, but didn’t make any other protests until they turned the corner onto the street where the church was located.
He felt the glamour even before the utter silence registered.
“Demons,” the Witness said, peering down the street to where a line of seven people stretched across the width of the street, each one in possession of weapons ranging from axes, to war hammers, swords, and even what looked like a morning star. “Looks like a protective guard. I’ll let you two handle this lot.”
“How very gracious of you,” Veronica said softly, but she pulled her sword and gave it a little twirl. “I’m ready for them.”
It was on the tip of Ian’s tongue to demand she go back to the car while he dealt with the demons, but while his need to keep her safe was almost overwhelming, he wouldn’t for the world do anything to undermine her newfound faith in her abilities. He’d just have to make sure that her lack of experience didn’t cause her harm.
“If you leave before we give you permission,” he told the Witness, allowing her to scurry behind them, “I will see to it that you never get your arms back. Veronica, lock them in the car.”
“Aye aye, Captain Hunkypants.”
He waited until she had done as he asked, and gave her a look that let her know he was deadly serious. “There is no shame in retreating if you are overwhelmed. Stay close to me, and don’t listen to anything the demons say to you.”
“Kind of like an exorcism, then? They tell lies to make you weak and vulnerable?”
“More like they will attempt to cast a spell on you if you give heed to their words.”
“Well, that’s horrible. Although…can we do that, too?”
??
?With training, yes.”
“Cool.” Her eyes were alight with dragon fire as she shifted the sword from one hand to the other. He could feel his own blaze kindling at the sense of danger that permeated the street, the familiar thrill of a fight firing his blood and doing much to push down the doubt that had driven him from practicing his birthright.
“There’s just something about the knowledge that you’re ridding the mortal world of a few more demons,” he murmured softly, but not softly enough.
Veronica nodded. “It’s kind of an endorphin rush, isn’t it? I feel like…rawr! All superhero and badass, and all those other things that Teresita said. It’s a shame she can’t be here to see it. Honestly, at this point I feel like I could take on the world! I don’t know when I’ve ever felt this powerful. Is that the dragon part kicking in, or am I suddenly a danger junky?”
“Most likely it is a manifestation of your dragon self.” He was silent a moment, fighting to control the surge of dark power that threatened to engulf him in its warm, sticky embrace. “Just be aware that it can stir your demon half as well. Keep the dragon uppermost. Let its fire burn bright within you, and do not let anything that feels insidious grip your mind.”
“Got it.” She glanced around. “How come there are no sounds? A big truck went by on the street behind us, but I didn’t hear it.”
“It’s a glamour. I hope whoever cast it knew what they were doing, otherwise the mortals in that block will be exposed to a show the likes of which would haunt their dreams. Are you ready?”
“Yup. No talking to demons. Keep balanced on the balls of my feet. Anticipate whenever possible. Heads are a priority, followed by arms.”
The Witness snorted and said something rude under her breath.
“Stay close to me,” he repeated, and with a little prayer to no specific deity, he charged forward into the line of demons.
It was a short battle, much shorter than Ian imagined it would be given that there were seven demons all bent on keeping them out of the church. Veronica and Ian slashed at the line of them, knocking weapons, arms, and heads aside with the vengeance of the righteous. He was moderately distracted making sure Veronica didn’t get overwhelmed, but to his surprise and pleasure, she held her own against them, evidently having learned quickly from the few points he’d taught her…that or her dragon side was starting to take hold, sharpening her instincts and reaction times.
“This is…ugh, demon blood everywhere!…actually a really good workout. Maybe I won’t have to…watch out, that one you sent flying into the tree is crawling back…won’t have to go to the gym after all,” she said, panting a little while she twirled and neatly severed the head of a demon who was in the middle of bringing a morning star down on her head.
Ian dealt with two demons who decided that disarming him would be the best plan of action.
“That was the wrong choice,” he snarled when together the pair jumped him, one of them bashing his sword hand with a battle hammer. His sword clattered along the pavement a good sixteen feet away, causing Ian to think briefly of making a dive for it. Instead, he allowed his dragon nature to have its head. Roaring, he punched one demon in the face with a fist covered in fire, sending the man flying backward into a picket fence, impaling him on the jagged shards of wood. The second demon slashed at Ian’s head with a short sword. Ian doubled over to avoid being decapitated and kept moving, head-butting the demon in the midsection, causing the demon to stumble backward and fall. Ian was on him instantly, twisting the sword out of the demon’s hand, stabbing downward into the demon’s chest with his full strength, effectively pinning the man to the earth.
Ian straightened up, avoiding the demon’s flailing legs while it desperately attempted to pull the sword out, and snatched up his élan vital before tackling the last two demons, both of whom were descending upon a panting but elated-looking Veronica. She roundhouse kicked at the nearest demon, following it up with an attack that left the demon without its head, shoulder, and an arm.
The last demon was dispatched while it ran toward Veronica, an axe held high over its head. Ian lopped off the head and gave Veronica a stern look. “What did I tell you about using martial arts during a fight with demons?”
She wiped her sword on the shirt of the demon at her feet before looking up, scowling. “Dude! I just killed three demons on my own!”
“Yes, and you could easily have lost a leg by roundhousing that demon.” He sheathed his élan vital and glared down at her, his arms crossed and his heart beating madly at the idea that she had put herself at risk, even if it was a small risk. He nodded to the ground at a lifeless corpse just before it evaporated into a foul, oily, black smoke. “That demon had a sword. All she had to do was swing it down while you were kicking her, and you’d be without a leg right now.”
“But she didn’t, and I’m not,” Veronica pointed out with blithe disregard for his concern. “Was that a roundhouse kick? I have to say, that’s kind of cool I can do that now. I’ve never done any martial arts, but it just kind of felt natural at the time. So do I have like a black belt or something now? If so, that’s pretty slick that being part dragon means you’re a Jackie Chan or Michelle Yeoh. Teresita is going to be so impressed.”
Ian took a breath and reminded himself that Veronica was new to her powers and still in that phase when everything seemed possible. He didn’t want to ruin that for her with the realization that although she wasn’t as demonically inclined as the rest of the dragon hunters, there was still a dark element to her psyche, and sooner or later it would manifest itself.
He hoped against all reason that, perhaps given Adam’s research and her sister’s transformation, Veronica wouldn’t ever have to suffer from the demon inside. The thought of her trying to cope alone with that on top of her other emotional issues cut deep with the intensity of a laser.
For she would be alone. He couldn’t risk her well-being just to keep her with him, and he couldn’t break the tie to Anzo without sacrificing someone else for his own selfish purposes. Even if he found a willing victim, he couldn’t live with such an act. Regret swamped him, making him want to rail against a world that would dangle happiness just out of his reach. It was a torment worthy of Anzo herself.
“Ian?” Veronica’s voice was soft, filled with emotion that seemed to wrap itself around him. “Are you okay? Are you painful gas bubbling again, or is something wrong?”
“Well, that took forever. You, Stinky, get my arms and bring them with you. I will want them when the mage arrives.” The Witness strolled past them, wrinkling her nose and stepping carefully over the black smears of the demons’ remains. “I hope someone plans on cleaning up the street, because the smell here is absolutely vile. It’s all I can do to keep from ralphing everywhere.”
“Ian?” Veronica gently squeezed his arm.
“I’m fine. My painful gas bubble moment—which again, I’m happy to inform you I’ve never had—has passed.”
“If you say so.” She cast him a couple of doubtful looks but said nothing more and followed when he gestured for the Witness to proceed them.
Although the street was lined with leafy walnut trees that, for the most part, hid the church, a suitably gothic-looking spire loomed above. By the time they approached the church, Ian could see the building that hunkered in between the tidy houses was old, with the high arched windows common to late nineteenth-century buildings, crumbling moss-covered steps, and a yard overgrown with clover and tall weeds. The windows—once lovely—were now blackened and scribed with silver runes.
Closer inspection showed the steeple in the process of falling down and black doors covered in graffiti. Everything about the building gave off an air of decay and neglect.
“How do we get to the crypt?” Ian asked when the Witness stopped at the crumbling stone stairs leading up into the church proper. “Is the access inside or out?”
“Inside,” she answered, tossing her head. “But if John is expecting you, he’ll have the entranc
e protected.”
“By spells and things like that?” Veronica asked, looking with distaste at the untidy building. “This place could use a bucket of bleach and some really stiff scrub brushes.”
“I’m sure John arranged for something more than just magic to guard the crypt,” the Witness said, nodding toward the door. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on in. I don’t have all day to stand around here while you two debate unimportant things.”
“We aren’t debating anything, but if we were, that would be how easy it would be to eliminate you completely,” Veronica said with a smile that would have done a shark proud.
Ian laughed to himself as she marched past him to the door, saying under his breath, “You’re turning bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”
She yanked open the door and flashed him a grin. “Being a dragon hunter is oddly freeing. I mean, look at me—I am holding a doorknob, Ian. An actual doorknob that other people have touched with their icky, sticky, germy hands, and I have not only not wiped it down before touching, but I also don’t plan on using hand sanitizer as soon as I’m inside. I’m a wild, carefree sort of person now.”
“You are daring personified,” he agreed, his heart warming at her joyous embrace of her new role, and at that moment, he knew he was in love with her. Wholly, irreparably in love. Until the time when he ceased to draw a breath, his heart would be hers.
He wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.
Dragon Hunter 101 (Change If Mr. Manny Thinks That Title Is Too Foreshadowing. Or Confusing. Or Both)
“NO PUSHING! IF YOU MAKE ME FALL AND HURT MYSELF, I’ll sue!”
I ignored Aspen’s threat when Ian gave her a shove into the building, and blinked a few times at the darkness of the church interior, my nose wrinkling at the musty smell of old building, rodents, and damp. A dim light filtered from around the imperfectly painted-over windows, as well as from a couple of nasty fluorescent bulbs that occasionally buzzed and flickered overhead. “And you thought my victimized apartment was a dump.”