Bound by Flame (35 page)

Beside Cynda, Jake gnashed his fangs and clicked his nails together.

Cynda’s skin crawled. She remembered those noises from her time in the Bronx tunnel.

Clock’s ticking. He’s about to lose it.

Sister Julia seemed to be assessing her situation now, gazing slowly around the large landing, the hall, and through one of the doors leading to the living room. From her vantage point, she could probably see that the back of the house had been secured and was now in the hands of the OCU. Sal Freeman and however many armed officers had survived the fight stood between her and whatever was in that shed. The ex-nun had to realize the front of the house and the grounds outside were filled with Sibyls. She still had her talismans, her controlled demons, and her hostage. Strong bargaining chips, but not strong enough to trade for so many lives.

Sister Julia once more returned her attention to Cynda. “I can be reasonable. I’ll surrender the woman, the demon, and…half of my talismans, after you—just you—accompany me out of this house.”

Jake snarled, from somewhere around Cynda’s elbow. Smoke rose from her hands and fingers, and fire burned at her ankles.

Any second now, Jake would act.

Cynda’s muscles tightened so hard her joints hurt. She’d kill the demon if she had to. She’d save Nick, but Delilah and who knew how many others would die. Her stomach kept roiling, and she breathed a jet of fire across her own lip. “Release Jake from his command to kill. Right now. Then we’ll talk.”

The woman’s brown eyes narrowed to slits, and that fake smile stayed plastered to her pale face. She gripped the banister beside her so hard her knuckles stood out against her skin. “If you agree to my terms.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Nick lifted his Glock. Lowered it again. His fingers went white against the grip.

Sister Julia glanced from invisible Jake to Cynda to Nick, then back to Cynda. She shifted her gaze to the front of the house, and the kitchen area, and once more to Cynda’s face. “Their lives for yours. All of them. That’s not such a bad bargain, is it?”

Jake blew out a breath. Cynda had a sense he wanted to agree with Nick, but he couldn’t speak against his master.

Cynda glared at the crazy ex-nun and slowly lowered her sword to her side. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“You—you cost me everything.” The red in Sister Julia’s cheeks crept higher and lower, coloring her forehead and chin. “I received my first formal reprimand the night you arrived at Kylemore. The Abbess Superior believed I should have been kinder to you. A child clearly in the palm of the devil himself.” She shifted to a strained, sad expression. Her hand trailed down the banister. “Not long after, I was separated from my order. They gave many reasons, but I always knew the truth, that it was your influence. You, and your filthy, evil kind.”

“But the demons,” Cynda said as Nick moved closer beside her. “How did you get so many?”

Sister Julia smiled again, and Cynda clamped her mouth shut mid-sentence. “A gift from God, to aid me in my quest. I found the first one before I ever left Ireland, walking about a bog coated in mud, trying to learn to be visible.”

She brushed her skeletonlike fingers against her necklaces. “Demons find their own with surprising ease. As we traveled, each fiend helped me find another, and another, and another, and stole their talismans for me, to put them in my service.”

Jake panted and snarled, panted and snarled.

Cynda knew the demon was suffering, but she didn’t know how to help him. Couldn’t, without costing Delilah’s life. “Philadelphia, Boston…” Cynda recited the places where fire Sibyls had been attacked, hoping to hurry Sister Julia along, to the point she might release Nick if Cynda agreed to leave with her.

“Baltimore, and Washington, D.C.” Sister Julia lowered her hand and rubbed her fingertips across her talisman rings. “The organization that originally created my god-sent pets got in touch with me again here, in New York City, and offered to assist me in my efforts.” Her eyes shifted toward the kitchen, and a cold wave of dread washed through Cynda.

She was pretty sure she knew what was in that shed now.

Cursons. Courtesy of their old enemies, the Legion.

Yep. Jake was right. She’d die before she let Sister Julia down those steps now. No question.

“In truth, my quarrel is with you more than anyone.” Sister Julia’s sigh was dramatic, almost overwrought. “Save for Mother Keara herself, but that blight should be scrubbed from this mortal plain any moment now.”

Cynda stood straighter and lifted her sword a few inches. “What does that mean?”

Sister Julia positively beamed, realizing she was winning. “Come with me now, and I’ll tell you.”

Jake came to the point of ragged growls. A slight noise told Cynda the demon had probably gone to his knees on the landing in a last desperate attempt to stop himself from following his instructions.

Nick growled. Voice lower than low, he said, “Don’t take a step, Cynda.”

My life for all of theirs
. Smoke rose from Cynda’s feet and arms. Holes gradually appeared in her leathers.

Assuming she can kill me.

If I get her out of here, I think I might have a fighting chance.

She eyed Sister Julia. Yes. Get her out of the house, away from Jake, Nick, Delilah, and everyone else. The thought sent shivers of cold terror through every inch of her—but a tiny part of her mind relished the thought she might get to fight the nun alone.

Wit to wit, hand to hand, sword to neck…

Yeah. I could handle that. But what did she mean, about Mother Keara being scrubbed from this mortal plain?

Cynda knew she had to do this. She had to go with Sister Julia, even if Nick blew a gasket.

But how would she ever get past him? He’d do something to stop her. Or try to.

Still, she had to figure a way.

Carefully, making sure Nick couldn’t see her, she gave Sister Julia a look, a message with her expression.

You win.

The ex-nun might have been insane, but she read the sag in Cynda’s shoulders, the droop of her head. To the space where Jake stood moaning ever louder as he worked not to kill his brother, Sister Julia said, “Do not kill the officer. Disarm the fire bitch instead.”

Nick grabbed Cynda around the waist, jerked her across the landing toward him, and yelled, “Don’t touch her, Jake! Don’t make me shoot you.”

Shit!
Cynda gripped her sword as hard as she could, and kicked at Nick.

He held fast, but at least both of them blocked the stairs so Sister Julia couldn’t flee.

Bastard
. “Let me fight!” Cynda hit him in the shoulder with one fist.

Something tugged at Cynda’s sword. She swore, leaned toward the pull. Her wrist twisted and throbbed. She fought to keep hold—and failed. The hilt was torn out of her grip.

“Shit!” Heat blasted from both of Cynda’s hands, following the blade, coating it in red-hot flames. If she could have drawn the metal back to her, she would have, but powerful wings stirred the air on the landing with a mighty flap, lifting the sword out of her reach.

Nick pulled Cynda forward, this time against the dirty brown wall supporting the stairs, facing Sister Julia.

At the same moment, Delilah struggled to get away from Sister Julia, but the ex-nun backhanded the old woman. Delilah dropped to the step behind Sister Julia and sat still, head down.

From somewhere above, Jake laughed.

Sister Julia laughed, too, but Cynda shivered in Nick’s arms.

That demon sounded half-insane.

Didn’t Sister Julia notice? Probably too crazy to give a damn.

Cynda’s hand ached to have her sword back. Something was about to go down, hard and heavy, and she didn’t have her blade
again
. Just her fire, burning in a huge ring around the landing.

Useless against these demons.

Another laugh from Jake, and Nick went totally still. His skin glowed.

Cynda froze in his grasp, heart smashing against her chest and throat. Smoke rippled across the large landing, ringing the fire, coating their feet and curling up, up, to where Sister Julia stood, with Delilah Moses sitting right behind her.

Cynda tasted bile in her throat.
What’s Jake going to do?

He had to be under orders not to hurt Sister Julia. He couldn’t override those, could he?

Her eyes traced her sword’s journey from the landing to the steps, to Sister Julia, who held out her hand to receive the blade.

The sword lowered itself toward her waiting palm.

Cynda realized she wasn’t breathing.

The sword swept over Sister Julia’s outstretched hand.

Jake didn’t give it to her!

The sword plunged down, hilt first, behind the ex-nun instead—very near Delilah.

Sister Julia stood still, her hand still out and waiting, obviously shocked.

A thrill shot through Cynda. Fire blasted across her shoulders. She pulled out of Nick’s grasp and got ready to leap for her blade, but stopped at the sound of a huge thump.

The banister beside Sister Julia shattered. Wood rained onto the landing. Jake and something invisible crashed to the floor nearby. A hard punch—fist on flesh. Bone cracked. He was taking out the demon who had been guarding Delilah.

Behind Sister Julia, Delilah moved sideways.

Silence.

Why hadn’t Sister Julia intervened and grabbed Delilah? Given Jake new orders?

Holding her breath, fists doubled and burning, Cynda felt ready for anything.

“Sonofabitch,” Nick muttered.

Cynda’s hands dropped to her sides. Her mouth came open. The pounding of her heart slowed, replaced by a gnawing, sick sensation in her belly.

Sister Julia was still standing on the step where she had been, not moving at all, except to gaze down at the tip of Cynda’s Celtic broadsword.

The blade slowly emerged from the ex-nun’s belly.

At a sharp upward angle.

Red billowed beside the silver steel, and the stain spread outward from the mortal gut-cut, darkening Sister Julia’s black dress.

Blood trickled from her lips, then coughed outward in a crimson gout. Her eyes went wide and grew still.

Like a felled tree, she pitched forward, stiff and unmoving.

Cynda and Nick jumped aside to let the dead woman crash down the steps and fall to the landing between them. Cynda’s sword was still lodged firmly in her back.

Delilah Moses stomped her heel against wood and hooted, yanking Cynda’s attention up the steps, to the old woman. Delilah’s shackled hands were still raised from thrusting that broadsword straight through Sister Julia’s miserable insides.

“You didn’t go givin’
me
any commands, did ya?” Delilah laughed loud and long at the bleeding corpse on the landing below, gasping before she said, “Devil’s
always
in the details.”

Mouth open, stomach slowly churning, smoke puffing in fits and spurts from just about everywhere on her body, Cynda blinked at Delilah.

Sister Julia hadn’t put any commands on the demons concerning Delilah doing the killing, had she?

Unbelievable.

The sound of rasping, jerking breath met Cynda’s ears, and she realized it was her own.

So it was over?

Just like that?

The Sibyl-mark on her wrist still burned and vibrated, but relief mashed Cynda’s muscles into pudding.

Nothing was happening. No reprisals or explosions or Astaroths dropping out of the air to tear people to bits.

Nobody was dying.

It
was
over.

The Sibyl-killing bitch was dead.

Delilah grinned at Cynda. “Folks like her think they’re so smart, but they’re bound to forget somethin’, if those with good ears listen close enough. Thank you again for my blessin’, and I’ll be wantin’ another soon, on account of this service.”

Then the old woman cursed the corpse in Irish.

When Nick glanced at Cynda, she translated as best she could, mind and body swimming with a sense of unreality. “May a cat eat your bones, and may Satan eat the cat.”

“Guess those old bargains
do
come in handy.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Not bad.”

“I think we should take her to Ireland,” one of the fire Sibyls called from the doorway to the front room. “The Mothers would like Delilah. A lot.”

Cynda started to agree, but a Mediterranean breeze drifted across her senses. Too strong. Too close.

What—

“Sorry,” Jake said in her ear.

He shoved her toward the wall, away from Sister Julia’s body.

Cynda stumbled. Slid in the blood, then banged into the wall by the stairs, propelled by the demon’s hands. Pain shot through her chin and shoulders as Jake flattened her face-first against the filthy brown plaster and held her still, arms behind her back. His body pressed into hers like a shield.

Fire snapped from every inch of Cynda’s body, burning big holes in her leathers—not that flames mattered against Jake. She didn’t struggle against him for the same reason. Total waste of energy. Her heartbeat sounded in her ears, and she did her best to breathe. Fear and exhaustion flowed through her in equal measure. She wished more than anything she could get off a good kick to Jake’s nuts, because she was getting damned tired of the Astaroth snatching hold of her.

And
this
time, he was doing it of his own free will, damn his hide.

If he ever touched her again, he’d regret it.

Cynda managed to turn her head away from the stairs.

Nick was down, but he was pushing himself up, already trying to reach for her.

Something knocked him sideways against the wall beside her.

A stampede of air, footsteps, and mumbling broke out along the stairs, beside Cynda and behind her. Wings flapped, seemingly everywhere at once.

“All right, all right,” Delilah said. “I’m movin’.”

Cynda regulated her breathing, tried to focus and understand, and thought she did. She stopped pushing against Jake. His grip eased a fraction.

Sibyls cried out, came running—but Cynda heard the footsteps stop.