King of the Damned: A League of Guardians Novel Read online

  “That’s bull.” He took another step closer until she could have reached out her hand and touched him. “There’s another place she can be.”

  Her lips whitened, and she shook her head violently. “No.” She would not send her mother there, to the in-between world.

  Something shifted in his eyes as he studied her, and when he spoke his tone changed. “We’ve never asked him for help. Maybe now’s the time.”

  “No! What happened to the promise we made to Nana? She said that he was more dangerous than Mallick!”

  His face whitened. “Nana is gone, Rowan. Everything’s backward. Messed up.”

  “Kellen, we can’t.”

  “I know you must be scared, Ro.”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head and took a step back. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not scared, Kellen. I’m furious and tired, and I’ve fucking had it.” She blinked back hot tears. “Don’t you get it? Mallick killed Nana. Our Nana. He won’t stop until he claims his prize, and the last time I looked that effing prize was me. I’m done running, Kellen, don’t you get that? Why won’t you trust me enough so that we can get this done?”

  “How can you be sure it was Mallick?”

  His attitude pissed her off. “The coven has been marked, of course it’s Mallick. He’s pissed at all of us because his mark is blind, and he can’t find me.”

  “I don’t like any of this.”

  “I don’t see that you have choice.” She lifted her chin and uttered the words she’d thought but hadn’t spoken aloud. “Why weren’t you here with her? The only reason I agreed to leave Salem was because I thought it would keep her safe. That if I was gone, nothing bad would happen to her, and with you around . . .” Her chest heaved, and she took an aggressive step forward, her fingers outstretched as a surge of power rushed along them. “Where were you, Kellen? Why did you leave?” Accusation rang in her voice, breaking her words and tearing at her heart.

  His eyes glittered as he stared down at her, and the ache in her heart tripled. There was so much anger and mistrust in them. And pain. “Nana meant the world to me, and the fact that I wasn’t here when she was attacked is something I’ll carry to the grave.” He glared at her, though the bleakness in his eyes shone through. “You have no idea what’s going on with me, and that’s fine. My life is none of your business. Not anymore. You don’t get to ask those questions.”

  “Fair enough. I won’t ask any more questions, and you’ll stay the hell out of my way.”

  He laughed. “Don’t try that crap with me, Rowan. I want that son of a bitch to pay as much as you do . . . I’m just not willing to sacrifice our mother in order to achieve that goal.”

  He didn’t understand. He’d never understand.

  “Kellen, I need to find the James grimoire. She’s the only one who knows where it is since she’s the one who sold it for drug money.” Her voice rang bitterly. “It wasn’t hers to give. You know that. She broke Nana’s heart.”

  He swore. “There has to be another way.”

  “There isn’t.”

  He expelled a long breath and shook his head. “You nearly destroyed her last time. You would have—”

  “If not for you.” She finished for him. Her chest constricted, and she moved, startled, as the orange tabby suddenly appeared, weaving its way between her legs. For such a small thing, it purred like a tiger.

  “You lied to me, Rowan. You lied to Mom, then you nearly destroyed her. For what? A book?” He laughed, a harsh sound that made her wince. “You don’t even know if it holds whatever you need to defeat Mallick.”

  “It does,” she said stubbornly.

  His eyes narrowed. “How can you be sure? Don’t you think someone else would have used it before now?”

  “No one was ever strong enough.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “And you think you are?”

  “I’ve no choice. I have to be. He brought this fight to my door when he killed Nana. He won’t stop until . . .” She exhaled and picked up the tabby, who now meowed and rubbed its head against her chin. “I refuse to be Mallick’s bitch, Kellen, and I’ll die before another drop of James blood is spilled.”

  “You’re blind to him right now. Leave and the rest of us will go underground.”

  “And spend the rest of your lives running?” She motioned behind him. “What about this place? It’s been in our family for generations. I can’t let him win. I can’t let him take that from me.”

  “Rowan, you’ve been gone for six years. What do you care?”

  “I care,” she whispered fiercely.

  He stared at her for a few more seconds, his expression unreadable. “What if you’re not strong enough, Ro? What if . . .” His voice trailed off, and he glanced away, hands fisted at his side.

  “Then God help us.” Because we’re all doomed.

  Silence enveloped the both of them.

  “Can’t you use a locator spell? Like the one you used to find the asylum?” There was a note of resignation in his voice, and she glanced up, shaking her head.

  “No.” She grimaced. “I would have done that before, Kellen. I don’t have anything to locate it with.” Her voice grew steely. “Marie-Noelle needs to remember who or what she gave it to. She needs to make this right.”

  “Even if it means she loses her sanity again? Rowan, she’s almost back. Have you talked to her?” Suddenly the man Kellen had grown into was no more, and the small boy, the brother she remembered from her youth, gazed back at her, his blue eyes earnest, full of hope.

  “Briefly, last night.”

  His eyes darkened, his mouth thinned. “That’s right. But you didn’t have the time or decency to at least let her know that her own mother was gone.”

  Rowan stared at her brother and saw the accusation in his eyes. For the first time a small tingle of regret tugged at her heart. She remained silent. What was there to say?

  “Why do you hate her so much?” The question was direct, and by the look in Kellen’s eyes he wasn’t going to let it go.

  “I don’t hate her.”

  “You lie.”

  “No,” Rowan shook her head. “I’ve never . . .” But as the wall of emotion inside her broke she realized that he was right. Hate might be a strong word choice, but it sure as hell came close to describing the complicated mess of feelings she had for her mother.

  “I don’t hate her . . . I hate her weakness. I hate that she turned to drugs and booze and men instead of dealing with her situation.” She clenched her hands, heart in her throat as the words came tumbling out. “I hate that she hurt Nana. That she stole and lied and that she chose all of that over us.”

  The tabby meowed—she was holding it too tight—and she let the animal run free. “I hate that when you fell from the tree in the backyard and hit your head, I had to drive you to the hospital because she was passed out in her bedroom with her latest boyfriend. We were seven, Kellen. Seven!”

  He glared at her, his expression unreadable.

  “Your leg was broken. Don’t you remember how much pain you were in?”

  “I remember.”

  “I tried so hard to perform a healing spell, but I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t know enough. She never taught me.” Her words were bitter. “Our phone was cut off. I couldn’t call for help. She didn’t even know Nana had come for us until two days later, when she and her creep boyfriend needed his car to buy more vodka!” She rubbed at her face, hating the sting of tears that hung in the corner of her eye. “What kind of mother does that to her children?”

  He was silent for a few moments, and when he spoke, his voice rang with a note of defeat. “The kind that’s screwed up. The kind that needs forgiveness.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Then you’ve drawn a line between us, Ro. I won’t let you hurt her again. That last time, what you did to her . . . I trusted you. If I’d known what you’d planned, I would never have let you find the asylum.”

 
“You couldn’t have stopped me.”

  He laughed. “I may not have any of your magick mojo, but don’t for a second think I can’t stop you if I want to.” He arched a brow, his eyes cold and determined. “Don’t think I won’t stop you.”

  A chill ran through Rowan’s body at the look in his eyes. There was something there . . . something new and dark. When had he become so . . . hard?

  “When are you going to ask her about the grimoire?” he asked. “Cedric had to give her some strong meds to calm her down.”

  She shrugged. “As soon as possible.”

  “Who are these men?” He changed the subject abruptly, and for a moment she was silent.

  “Friends of Nana’s.”

  He snorted. “Sure they are. She’s always hung with a bunch of True Blood wannabes.”

  Rowan made a face. “Remember Bill?”

  “From True Blood?”

  She scowled. “Don’t be an asshole. Bill, Nana’s friend. He’d visit from time to time and sometimes stay a few days.”

  Kellen’s brow furled. “The little round guy who dressed funny and always carried a bag of candy?”

  Rowan nodded. “Azaiel is a friend of his, and they’re here to . . . make things right.”

  “I met Priest and Nico earlier, so I’m going to assume that Azaiel is the one you were swapping spit with?”

  She glared at her brother but refused to be cowed by him. “Yes,” she answered simply.

  Kellen’s face was unreadable as he digested that bit of information. He took a step back and issued a warning. “Don’t go near Mom without me, Ro, or I swear by all that’s holy you’ll regret it.” He left her there and disappeared around the side of the house, no doubt on his way to find Vicki and Terre. They’d always been thick as thieves—even the bloody donkey liked Kellen.

  Rowan crossed her arms across her chest, trying to seek what warmth she could. The dampness had found its way past her clothes and clung to her clammy skin with an iron grip. She shivered and closed her eyes. She was surrounded by all of her family and more strangers than she cared to count yet . . . she’d never felt so alone.

  For the first time since she came back and found Cara gone, the well inside broke apart. She hadn’t realized until now how much she’d cut out of her life when she’d left for California.

  Or how much her betrayal of Kellen’s trust had cost her. She’d lost her mother through no fault of her own, but Kellen’s defection was all on her.

  Rowan slipped between the oak trees that bordered the property and disappeared into the early-morning mist and forest that covered acres of land behind the bed-and-breakfast. There, she finally let everything out, with only the birds, squirrels, and dead leaves to hear her sobs.

  Chapter 19

  “Are we going to discuss what happened earlier?”

  Azaiel glanced back toward Rowan. She was leaning against the worn brick wall a few inches away, her hair twisting in the breeze that buffeted them. Her large expressive eyes shone in what dim light there was, and her full mouth tantalized.

  Discuss it? Hell, no. The fact that he’d not been able to think of much else pissed him off, and there was no way he was going to have a conversation with Rowan James about their kiss.

  It was more than a kiss.

  He clenched his jaw tight and cleared his throat. He much preferred silence between them. The woman twisted him up, and he needed to stay focused.

  “No.” His answer was curt and left no wiggle room. Most creatures, human or otherworld, would take heed and leave him the hell alone.

  “I want to talk about it.”

  Azaiel’s face darkened. Of course, Rowan James wasn’t like most creatures. He glared at her. “Do you really want to get into it right now?”

  She shrugged and walked toward him, her steps concise, assured. “Nothing else is happening, so why not?”

  She was right. So far the evening had been pretty slow, which was odd. They’d taken the heads of two blood demons about an hour ago, and nothing else had crossed their path.

  The darkness they’d sensed days ago had descended with a bang, and currently, Salem, Massachusetts, was the hottest bed of demon activity in the country. Mallick was stretching his muscles, and it was all hands on deck. Azaiel and the others from the League, along with the coven and several bands of human demon hunters, were the only line of defense the local populace had. With Halloween closing in and all sorts of events planned the town was full.

  It was a veritable feast for any demon, and the eating was good, though the diet in this part of town seemed pretty damn lean. At least at the moment, which didn’t bode well for him when stuck with a female who wanted to share her feelings.

  “I think you want me to believe you’re this,” she gestured wildly with her hands, “arrogant asshole. But you’re not.”

  “I’m not?” He tipped his head back. “If I remember correctly, that’s exactly what you called me.”

  She shook her head. “No. That’s what you want me to think but, you see, an asshole wouldn’t put his life on the line for an old woman that he’s never met.” Her eyes glittered, their glistening depths like jewels. “An asshole would have taken what was offered the other night, no questions asked. He wouldn’t have stopped. Wouldn’t have worried about my feelings.”

  “If your . . . if Kellen, hadn’t shown, I’m pretty damn sure I would have gotten exactly what I wanted.” Why the hell was she pressing the matter? Irritation rolled through him, and he ran his hand through his hair.

  She bit her lip in that way that kinda drove him crazy. Then her tongue darted out and swept across the bottom, leaving a sheen of moisture that glistened in what little light there was.

  Ignoring the obvious, which was his need for silence, she took another step forward until there was less than an inch of space between them. “Are you going to tell me why you’re trying so hard to make me believe you’re a dick?” She arched a brow. “Because I’m not buying it.”

  She was dangerous. This little witch.

  A smile spread across her face, and his heart rate sped up.

  And she knew it.

  Azaiel bent low until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “Maybe I just don’t like you all that much.”

  She exhaled, and her eyes widened, the dark centers thickening until the blue nearly receded. “I think you’re full of crap.” She made a noise in the back of her throat, and somewhere down there, between his legs, things that should stay calm and focused suddenly stirred.

  “You do,” he managed to get out.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  Silence fell between them, and he found himself holding his breath. She moved again, and this time her breasts pressed against his chest. Azaiel closed his eyes, inhaled her scent, and wondered at the audacity the little witch possessed.

  “I think,” she continued in a slow breath, “we’d be fools not to at least explore some of the chemistry between us.” She exhaled. “Don’t you feel it, Azaiel? This connection?”

  Her mouth was so close, her scent intoxicating. She splayed her hands out across his chest and looked so hot that it took every ounce of control Azaiel had to keep his hands off her.

  Feel it?

  He arched a brow. His cock was hard, more than ready, and the witch knew it. And still she pushed. All of this was wrong for so many reasons she didn’t understand. Suddenly he was tired of the game and pushed her away.

  “Don’t ask for something you can’t handle, Rowan.”

  She stared up at him, the teasing manner gone, leaving only a serious glint in her eye. “What happened to you, Azaiel?”

  Azaiel ignored her and glanced down the alley once more. For several seconds only the harsh echo of silence was between them, and the anger that stirred within his gut churned harder, faster. “What do you want from me?”

  “The truth,” she answered simply.

  He glanced back toward her and shook his head. “You wouldn’t be able to handle my truth. It’s
not pretty.”

  “Nothing’s pretty, Azaiel. Not even the shiniest, most brilliant diamond. There will be imperfections. Cracks and irregularities. At the heart of everything there is darkness. It’s what you choose to do with that darkness that matters.”

  “You would find good in me?”

  She blinked slowly and took a moment to answer. “I would.”

  “Why?” he asked, not so much to carry on the conversation, but because he was truly curious. In those few precious seconds, he studied her heart-shaped face intently and knew he’d never meet another woman like her, in any plane of existence.

  “Because . . .”

  A shadow moved, just beyond the halo of gold cast by the streetlight on the corner of Finch and Murphy, and Azaiel held up his hand, silencing her answer. Which was probably for the best.

  Dark wisps of smoke twirled faster until they converged into a form that was definitely a . . .

  “Sand demon,” Rowan whispered.

  He nodded but remained silent as he watched it solidify. They were nasty creatures, bottom feeders yes but dangerous all the same. Once a victim was scented and lured into their embrace they struck quickly, sucking in the body whole, like quicksand. It was a fast death, yes, but extremely painful.

  A human body was literally sliced apart by thousands of razor-sharp teeth that lined the sand demon’s large mouth and gullet. Of course, once spit out into District One—the main processing center in Hell—it would be put back together. Lilith needed bodies that worked down there though most captured by sand demons wouldn’t come close to resembling their former human form. They’d spend the rest of eternity looking like a haphazard mishmash of body parts.

  “There are three more,” Rowan whispered urgently, her smaller frame moving forward as she tried to maneuver past him. She was all business now, and he held out his arm to stop her.

  “There’s a couple walking toward them.” Rowan’s urgent whisper was punctuated by a tug on his arm.

  Azaiel glared at her, irritated. “If you don’t shut your mouth, the damn things will get away before we have a chance to kill them.”