Carnival of Secrets (27 page)

“I don’t want to hurt Adam.” Kaleb didn’t back away.

She lifted the gun so it was pointed at his chest. “Have you seen him?”

“No.” Kaleb winced inwardly at the alarm in her voice. The old witch wasn’t there, which, on one hand, was great, but on the other hand could mean trouble. Now that Kaleb had married Mallory, the protection the witch had had from Marchosias himself was gone. Marchosias was a lot of things, but he adhered to law. If the law declared Mallory Adam’s child until she was eighteen, Marchosias wouldn’t come to retrieve her until her eighteenth birthday. He might exploit a loophole—by allowing Kaleb to marry her—but he wouldn’t break the law outright. Now that Mallory had been given into Kaleb’s possession, Adam was just a witch without reason to live. None of which Kaleb wanted to explain to Mallory.

“Did you hurt him?” she prompted.

“No. I’m here because of you, because I
care
for you.” He stared at her, looking for the flicker of relaxation that would let him take the weapon. He didn’t want to frighten her. He had hopes that she’d never see him the way he was in the fights. “I’m not here to hurt you or Adam. I swear it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Kaleb kept his gaze fastened on her. “I haven’t lied about the important things. I just couldn’t tell you everything.”

“I’m sick of everyone keeping things from me,” Mallory muttered.

The secrets Kaleb had kept from her weren’t any worse than the ones Adam had kept—up until now. The temptation to tell her that they were wed vied with the reality that Mallory was apt to run from him if he told her that detail. Silently, he vowed to them both that once they got past these secrets, he wouldn’t keep anything from her. He simply couldn’t tell her everything all at once, especially when she was already upset. For now, all he said was, “I will answer questions, as many as I can.”

“What was that woman? The one with the birds and the ashes?”

“Watcher,” he said softly. “She’s called a Watcher.”

“They’re a sort of daimon,” she half asked, half stated.

He nodded.

“And she was here because of me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Others will come too. I’m here to protect you; I’ll stay by your side through any threat.”

Her shoulders went back, and she stared at him. “I have spent years training, and there are . . .” Her words faded.

“Wards,” he completed. “Adam is a witch who has warded the house.”

“That means you can’t come in.” Mallory swallowed nervously and lowered the gun a fraction—which was all he needed. He caught her wrist with one hand, forcing her arm upward so that if she did squeeze the trigger, she’d be firing into the air. At the same time, he stepped into her house and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He held her firmly against him and walked forward, using his larger size and momentum to propel her.

He caught the door with his foot and shoved it closed.

The gun was now aimed at her ceiling, and she struggled in his grip, but they weren’t standing exposed to any passerby who could see her weapon aimed at his chest.

“Actually, I
can
come in,” he said. “It’s better to have this conversation inside, and it’s easier to protect you.”

She wasn’t listening though. Her free hand was hitting and clawing at his face. At the same time, she pulled her knee up as hard as she could. He grunted in pain, but he didn’t release his hold.

“Let go,” she demanded.

“I need you to listen, Mallory.”

“Let me go.” She went limp, using her weight to try to throw him off-balance since he wasn’t responding to her attempts to tug away or to her striking him.

“Stop.” Kaleb growled this time.

At the sound of his very not-human growl, Mallory froze. She stayed completely still in his grasp. “I don’t know where it is, but if you tell me what he took, I might be able to help you get it, and then you can give it to them, and—”

“I
know
what he took,” Kaleb interrupted. “I’m not going to give—I’m not here to help someone else, Mallory. I’m here for
you
. I meant it when I said I would stand beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m telling you the truth.” Kaleb kissed her chastely.

Her lips were motionless under his, and he had to remind himself that they had a connection even if she was denying it. She was his wife, and even if she didn’t know yet, she would. A swell of panic filled him at the thought of her fate—and his—if she refused to accept him as her mated partner. Marchosias would kill him and give Mallory to another daimon.

Calmly, Kaleb said, “I came here even after the witch threatened to kill me because I want to be with you. You know he was ready to kill me, but I’m here. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

M
ALLORY’S INSTINCTIVE—AND FOOLISH
—desire to trust Kaleb vied with years of her father’s lessons. Those lessons had never concentrated on daimons manipulating her. In Adam’s myriad lectures, the focus was on the fact that daimons were crude brutes she should kill at first chance. He spoke of their strength, their cruelty, their history of brutality against witches. He didn’t tell her they would kiss her and promise to help her.
He didn’t tell me a lot of other things,
a guilty voice reminded her. She wanted to believe in him, but he’d kept secrets, spelled her, and, despite his assurances yesterday, he’d not come home to give her the answers he’d promised. She floated between worry that the daimons had found him and the possibility that he was avoiding her.

She wasn’t going to share her doubts with Kaleb though, so she said, “When my father gets here—” Her words were cut off as the window beside the door shattered.

An arm reached through the broken glass toward the dead bolt—and then, in an almost simultaneous moment, went still. The arm drooped, and she heard a thump outside the door.

“Shhhh.” Kaleb held up one finger in a
wait
gesture.

She nodded.

He released her and mouthed, “Wait.”

Then he walked to the living room window and pulled back the edge of the curtain. He turned to her and said quietly, “Stay inside. I’ll take care of this.”

“What happen—”

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated. “You stay inside.”

Then he left.

The 9mm still in her hand, she peeked between the blinds—and saw Kaleb carrying someone down the street. At least she thought she did, and then a moment later it was as if she had imagined it. She stared at the street and saw absolutely no one.
No Kaleb. No body.
Mallory clutched the gun and glanced at the window. The window was intact, as if the wards were still in place. Working wards would stop any entry and repair the entry point.
How did Kaleb get in then?
She walked over to the window, laid her hand on the perfect pane, and shook her head. She lowered the gun, but still held it loosely in one hand. She stepped backward—directly onto the broken glass all over her floor.

She glanced at the window again. The details didn’t add up. If Kaleb had been in the street, he wouldn’t disappear.
Do daimons vanish?
If the window was unbroken, the wards should have stopped Kaleb too. She glanced at the red numbers on the microwave.
And if it’s this late, my father should be home.
Gun still in hand, she walked over to her phone, picked it up, and checked for messages. There weren’t any.

A sound at the door made her lift the 9mm again. She raised it up, ready to fire, and tensed. The door opened.

As he stepped inside, Kaleb held up his hands, palms out in a
halt
gesture.

She let her breath out in a sigh. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She lowered the gun again. “I’m standing in my house, holding a pistol, wondering why there’s glass on the floor if the window isn’t broken . . . and wondering why you disappeared. My house’s wards kept whoever
that
was out, but not you. My father isn’t here. You’re a
daimon
. . . and is that person-witch-daimon dead?”

For a moment, Kaleb looked very much like the sort of person who could calmly dispose of bodies—which could be because of their current circumstances or because of the blood on his jeans. This was not the boy she’d been falling for the past month or so. This was a daimon who had lied to her and misled her.

“You did just carry a man down the street, didn’t you?”

Kaleb sighed. “Yes.”

“Someone tried to break in, and the wards stopped him,” she said. She knew it. The proof was on her floor and on his jeans, but she wanted to hear the words too.

“Yes.”

“Is he—”

“Mallory,” Kaleb interrupted.

She looked at the window again. “You walked through the wards that killed him. The wards worked, but not on you.”

He turned his face away then, looking at the window or maybe through it into the street.

They stood silently for a moment, and then he asked, “Do you have a dustpan?”

Mallory followed his gaze back to the floor.

“A dustpan,” she repeated. “Someone just died, and the daimon in my house wants a dustpan. This is insane.” She walked away from him, trying not to notice the tiny pieces of glass that were embedded in the undersides of her slippers.

Mallory rummaged around in the kitchen until she found a dustpan and broom. The reality was that someone had tried to break into her home. It didn’t occur to her to call the police: her father’s injunction against letting strangers into the house included the police.

After handing the broom and dustpan to Kaleb, she picked up her cell phone. There still weren’t any messages—or missed calls. It was charged, but her father hadn’t called.

“Call him.”

“What?” Mallory looked down at Kaleb.

He didn’t meet her gaze. “Call Adam. Tell him whatever you want. We need to know if he’s safe or not, and if he
is
safe, he needs to know about this.”

Kaleb finished sweeping up the broken shards of glass and poured them into the trash while Mallory called her father’s cell phone, office phone, and then, when she had no answer on either of those, she called the building receptionist.

“Stoneleigh-Ross.”

“I’m trying to reach my dad . . . Adam Rothesay.”

“Mr. Rothesay didn’t come in today.”

“Are you sure?” Mallory sat down unsteadily. “Maybe—”

“I’m the only one on duty, dear, and I’d have noticed Mr. Rothesay if he had signed in, so yes, I’m sure. Hold on.” The sound of papers shuffling was all Mallory heard, and then the receptionist came back. “Some of the staff had an emergency. Perhaps he is with them. You should’ve had a call from the division coordinator if so.”

“I didn’t.”

The clacking of keys filled the pause, and then the receptionist said, “I’ve entered a note for an update call to be sent to this number. Is there anything else, Miss Rothesay?”

“No. Thank you.” Mallory disconnected. She kept the phone in her hand, but she wasn’t sure what to do next.

When Kaleb came to stand in front of her, she looked up at him, and she saw that he’d heard her side of the conversation with the receptionist. He said nothing, but he brushed her hair back.

She flinched away from his touch. “He’s not answering his cell phone, but the receptionist said there was an emergency. I guess they were to call me, but didn’t.”

Kaleb sat down next to her on the sofa. He didn’t put his arm around her, and she didn’t move closer to him. On the table in front of them was the gun that she’d held only moments prior.

“I’ll be here for you. Whatever it is, I’ll be here. You can trust me.” He sat so stiffly that she wondered who the real Kaleb was: the one who casually carried a body away or the one she had first met. He seemed like two different people.

She glanced at him and wondered what sort of person disposed of bodies without question.

He’s a daimon, not a person.

Beside her, Kaleb looked at her expectantly, and when she said nothing, he stood. “I need to wash the blood out of these before it sets in.”

He was halfway down the hallway when she admitted, “I want to trust you.”

Kaleb stopped and turned back to face her. “I want that too, Mallory.”

H
E DIDN’T WANT TO
be the one to tell her the truths Adam had hidden from her. More to the point, he wasn’t sure he could tell her without being cast out of her house, and unless Adam was here to keep her safe, Kaleb wasn’t about to say anything that would make her try to send him away. Of course, if Adam came home, there was no need to tell her anything yet.

At least until she finds out that she needs to leave this world.

Tonight’s events had a decidedly dampening effect on his brief fantasy of a life in which he could stay in the human world and get to know his new wife better. Aside from fight days, he had no reason to live in The City for the next year. He’d still need to go to The City occasionally to earn money to support himself and Zevi, but after he won the competition, he’d be highly sought after, so mask-work would pay more. He’d do a few jobs, exchange the coin for human money, and then he could stay mostly in this world. After the year, he’d have to take Mallory—and their child—to live near her father, but until such time, he’d thought they could remain here.