Demon Bait: Children of the Undying, Book 1 (7 page)

“Because of what I am.” The words were quiet. “It’s not the same as leaning. Not active, or anything I can stop. People want to trust me. They don’t have to trust me, but they want to.”

“I want to.” She spoke without thought and instantly regretted it. “Let’s just get out of here. This lockdown is driving us both crazy.”

But he didn’t move. “The truth,” he repeated. “Did you think about what that means? That’s part of the reason you trusted me when I dragged you into this room. I didn’t force it on you, but I didn’t warn you about it, either.”

And it was, undoubtedly, part of the reason she’d accepted his mark. “No, you didn’t warn me, but I’m not simple, Gabe. I know there’s something drawing me to you, I just…need to know you’re not doing it on purpose.”

He didn’t smile. “If it were on purpose, you’d notice. You’d know.”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to control myself?”

“Because some little part of you would be screaming for it to stop, no matter how eager I told you to be.” His fingers tightened around the makeshift lever until she knew the metal must be misshapen. “I marked you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Not even me.” She covered his hand again. “Open that door, and let’s split. We can talk about it all you want once we get to your place across the river.”

Gabe blew out a breath and offered her a half smile. “Get your stuff. Even if I can spring it, I might not be able to hold it for long.”

It didn’t take long to gather their supplies. “We can stop by a supply closet.” Marci shoved the last bottle of water into one of the bags. “If you think we need to, I mean.” He was already working the piece of metal between the doors, every movement slow and methodical.

“No. Speed is more important. I have plenty of emergency supplies laid in.” She looped the bag over her neck and picked up another piece of metal from the broken bedstead. She positioned herself across from Gabe, on the other side of the doors, and met his gaze. “Ready?” Instead of answering, he began to exert pressure, the muscles in his arms flexing as he strained against the weight. Marci did the same, pulling in the opposite direction, though she may as well have been trying to move the wall itself. Nothing happened, nothing budged.

Nothing.

Then the door groaned, and Gabe snarled and redoubled his efforts, struggling until the muscles bunched in his arms and shoulders and his face turned red.

A hissing sound filled the room, followed by a sharp
crack
as the doors flew open. Marci went sprawling and crashed painfully into a nearby chair, though she managed to regain her balance and right herself.

Gabe was bent over, palms braced against his thighs as he panted for breath. “Fuck.” When he shifted his hands, she could see the deep crimson stains left behind on the fabric, and she grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen station. “You’re bleeding.” He took the towel and winced as he jammed it against his hand. “I’ll heal fast enough. Hand me one of the bags, and let’s get to the west sector.”

Marci did as he asked and stared at the door for a moment, seized by the feeling that it wasn’t a door at all, but a gaping metal mouth, waiting to slam shut on her as she tried to escape.

She shook off the image and dove through the doors. “This way.” Her knees shook so badly that only his steps echoing behind her kept her upright. Marci hit the end of the hall, then made a left and a quick right. “There are sets of steps,” she said aloud, mostly to herself. “We have to go farther down before we can come back up.”

“Makes sense.” For a large man, his steps were oddly soft, as if he was used to moving quickly and quietly. “When they reclaimed this place from the ruins, they would have built down. It’s safer underground.”

They made it to the stairwell, and Marci hurried down flight after flight, her hands barely touching the cold metal rails. “Two more floors.” She was panting, as much from fear as exertion, and her knees shook even harder when they reached the bottom landing.

She pulled at the door handle, but nothing happened. “Shit.
Shit
, it’s locked.” She knew the system had to be offline, but she tried her keycard anyway, to no avail.

Gabe eyed the door, slid his hand down the frame and tested the handle. “It’s an old-fashioned one. Maybe we can pop the lock, if we hit it right.”

“I think it’s…” She’d seen people do it in her youth, kids at her school who wanted to impress or scare each other by accessing unauthorized rooms. She pulled the handle, depressing the thumb lever as far as it would go, and gave the door a wallop just above the kickplate.

It bounced open, and Marci almost let it close again in her shock. “Maybe that’s the last one.” His hand fell to the small of her back, urging her forward. “If not, we can kick them in.” The emergency lights on the lowest level flickered, casting eerie shadows across the cracked plaster and paint. Their steps echoed, and Marci almost stumbled when she saw the door.

The tiny window had long been sealed and welded with a piece of steel, cut to fit, but she knew what lay on the other side.

Danger, and freedom.

This one was locked too, but the release bar sat on their side, along with the numerous deadbolts that had been added. Marci started at the bottom and Gabe at the top, flipping each lock back. Her fingers slipped on the metal, but together they managed to free every lock.

“Almost—” She shoved against the release bar with her hip, and a shrill alarm pierced the air as the door swung open.

“
Fuck
.” Gabe tried slamming the door shut again, but the wail of the alarm didn’t abate. “God damn Trip, code crunchers never remember that not everything is wired into a computer.” The sound—as well as a flashing warning light—emanated from a small red box above the door. “Can you—?”

He was just tall enough to reach it, but there was no time for finesse. Gabe smashed his bleeding fist against the box until it crumpled, then tore it away and jerked at the wires. The ends snapped free of the base, silencing the alarm.

Too late, and he confirmed it. “We can’t wait for it to get lighter out, now. Any demons within ten miles will be curious. We need to get downriver.
Fast.
” Simple, but far from easy. Marci swallowed hard and slid her hand into his, gripping it tightly. “I understand.”

“Trust me, Marci.” Only three words, but magic wreathed them, slid around her until
he
pulsed just under her skin, warm and sure.

The time for doubt was past. She’d committed to this, they both had, and now they had to see it through. “Okay,” she whispered, trying to hide her fear with a smile. “Race you to the river.”

If she’d been a strong swimmer, it would have been easy. A dunk in the river and a swift trip south.

The current was fast below the falls, and Gabe had used it to get out of a bind before. In the darkness it was easy to float, and trust on the demon’s shitty night vision to do the rest.

A woman raised below ground had no reason to swim. Maybe she’d done it in the network, strolled virtual beaches or floated in imaginary pools. The water in virtual reality felt almost real. Wet and refreshing and fun—but no replacement for the real thing.

Nothing virtual ever was.

Her fear was real enough. It battered against him as they climbed onto the ruins of a bridge wide enough to accommodate six cars across. Now it was nothing but shattered concrete and steel left to rot in the elements, one of the first victims in the war as the humans retreated toward their underground cities. It was open—exposed—but too massive to skirt around. “Once we reach the other side, we can find cover in the trees.”

“Maybe they didn’t hear.” Her voice shook. “It could have been anything, right? Come from anywhere.”

“We’re doing just fine,” he promised, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. Demons could be slow to react at night. Cautious, which made travel safer.

Safer. Not safe.

She stumbled across a busted and fallen concrete wall. The stone skittered, and she flinched. “Quiet, Marci,” she whispered, berating herself. “For fuck’s sake.” Using power was dangerous, but he unleashed a little. A quiet murmur, not to force calm on her, but to share certainty. “It’s okay,” he insisted, hopping lightly off the last hulking chunk of cement. He settled his feet, then turned to help her down. “Speed is more important than a little noise.”

“Animals, right? There are plenty ranging in this area.” She didn’t let go of his hand, not even after she had her footing. “We see them on the remote cameras sometimes. Whole herds of deer.”

“Deer, goats, cows…” Five hundred yards of barren earth lay between them and the cover of the trees that were slowly overtaking manmade structures. Five hundred yards of being vulnerable and easily spotted. He gripped her hand more tightly, but kept his voice easy. “Before the Fall, there were a lot of farms around here. I guess the city heads couldn’t bring all of the animals underground, so they went feral up here.”

Marci stared at the distance that separated them from the shelter of the trees. “I can run, Gabe. I train every day, and I’m good at it.”

Running on a treadmill or even through the halls of the building wouldn’t be the same as a dash for their lives across uneven ground. But it didn’t matter—they didn’t have a
choice
. “This is it, then. Let’s run.”

She kept up with him and his quick but steady pace for longer than he expected, a couple hundred yards. Almost halfway. Enough to make him admit that his ego was far too tied up in being the one who rescued her, the one who
saved
her, so she’d melt into his arms and stare up at him with big eyes that saw a hero instead of a demon.

And none of that mattered when an inhuman shriek ripped through the night, and Marci almost tripped.

Behind them—and above them. Gabe released her hand and spun, his stomach sinking when he caught the flash of wings. Skins were just as deadly in a fight, but wings were harder to pin down. The only weapon he had was the hunting knife he’d strapped to his thigh again, only good at close range. “
Run
, Marci!”

She exhaled on a shaky, terrified sob. “Don’t, Gabe—don’t—” Demons weren’t that much larger than humans, but the ground still shook when his enemy slammed to the dirt. Gabe whipped out his knife and lunged.

His blade nicked the demon’s leathery hide a second before the creature swept him aside with one strong arm and stepped toward Marci with a hiss, moonlight glinting dully off its wings. She dropped to the dirt.

A smaller target, and her dark clothes would make her harder to see. Rebounding, Gabe got a running start this time, more interested in slamming into his foe hard enough to drive him back. Away from Marci, that was what every cell in his body demanded, a singular dedication of purpose that made every movement painfully sharp.

His knife landed true this time, sinking in all the way to the hilt. The demon screamed and tried to fight back, sharp claws slicing as his arms flailed. When he failed to dislodge Gabe, he dropped on top of him.

Pain was unimportant. Maybe even desirable, because every slash strengthened his resolve. Nothing inside him was dark now, not even the parts that were more demon than human. They blazed with possessive fury, the knowledge that the creature fighting to subdue him wanted to slide strange, foreign magic over the summoner Gabe had marked.

This must be the battle frenzy the warriors spoke of. The thought drifted through his mind, out of place amidst the anger that gave him the strength to roll them both. Even bleeding, he had no problem wrapping a slippery hand around the hilt of his knife and grinding it deeper, reveling in the demon’s shrieks of pain.

With one last, desperate surge, the demon kicked at him. Gabe tumbled away, the knife ripping free of his grasp. He rolled in time to see Marci slam a hunk of concrete down on the demon’s head with both hands, once and then again.

The demon’s skull caved in. Gabe rocked to his feet, shaking as blood dripped to the ground. “He’s down, Marci. We need to move.”

It took her two tries to stand, but she reached down and pulled his knife free of the fallen corpse.

“You’ll need this,” she told him, dazed.

The girl had never been outside before, never stood under an open sky, and he’d dragged her straight into hell. He took the knife gently and eased an arm around her, just a brief, quick hug. “You saved my ass. You can do this.”

She shook her head, grabbed the bag she’d dropped and echoed his words. “We need to move.” And move they did. Gabe pushed through his pain until they were well into the overgrown trees. They trudged past buildings long since abandoned and cars left to rot before he pulled her to a stop against a solid-looking brick wall. “We need to do something about my arm. If I’m bleeding too much, I’ll leave a trail.”

She looked more startled than anything. “You’re hurt?” It was cool out but not cold, so he stripped his torn shirt over his head. “Some scratches, but one or two aren’t closing up yet.”

“Oh, Jesus.” She took the shirt and tore off a strip of fabric, wincing at the noise it made. “We need adhesive strips or tape or
something
to hold the edges together. We can bandage them in the meantime.” Next time—if there
was
a next time—he wasn’t going anywhere without a tablet, his network connection and a fucking first aid kit. “We have to make do with what we’ve got on us, sweetheart. Can you tie my shirt around my arm?”

She worked quickly, wincing again when she accidentally pulled the fabric too tight. “Sorry.” It hurt, but admitting it might have hurt more. Her fear pounded against him, so much worse because she was trying to hide it, and the mixture of terror and bravery felt like failure. He couldn’t make her feel safe, but he also couldn’t give her the luxury of being afraid.

Not yet. “That’ll hold me until we get to my base. You steady enough?”

“How far is it?”

“Less than a half a mile.”

She brushed her hand over the makeshift bandage one last time and nodded. “No sweat. Just a nice little run.”

“That’s right.” He straightened and nodded to the cracked path leading along the river. The tar had kept the trees from expanding, but in another generation or two, it might be reclaimed by the forest as well.