Demons of Desire (37 page)

“Maryland is south of the Mason Dixon line, and, at this point, I think I’m more than a tourist. I’m a demon. I’ll be fine, even in a hurricane. If you don’t want to loan me your car, it’s okay. I’ll just steal one.”

Not that I really could steal a car. Even if I’d been able to overcome that moral barrier, I had no idea how to hot–wire the thing with either human or demon skills.

I could hear his teeth grind through the noise of the storm. “I promised Irix I’d keep you safe. That doesn’t include loaning you my car so you can drown, or get squashed by a falling tree.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours, and then I’ll stay at Bliss until you tell me it’s safe to leave. Promise.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, and I remembered that demons lied.

“I swear on all the souls I Own that I will return to Bliss in no more than two hours and remain there until the storm passes.”

Not that I Owned any souls, but that vow seemed to satisfy Ourson. He pulled up outside the nightclub and put the Corolla in park, opening the door to the downpour.

“Be careful, Amber,” he shouted over the noise of wind and rain.

I scooted over, waving at him as I shut the door. I was drenched, as was the seat, and the car’s dash and steering wheel. Ourson waited in the rain, a vertical slash of darkness in gray as I pulled the car back into the flooded street and eased my way south of the city, towards the marshes and bayous.

39

I
nstinct alone got me to the site of the dead cypresses. I hadn’t seen a car since I’d left the city, and the swamp water lapped up over the edges of the bridged roadway, flooding it over a foot in many areas. I’d needed to detour several times to avoid roads flooded beyond the Corolla’s ability to ford. Once at the bayou, I parked smack dab in the center of the street, figuring that no one else would be foolish enough to be driving around in the middle of this mess.

Within seconds of exiting the car, I was soaked. Eyelashes and eyebrows simply weren’t enough to hold back the rain that dripped into my eyes and stung my skin. I shivered at the cold after a week of intolerable heat and waded out toward the dark shapes that I knew were the dead trees.

It wasn’t just the need to protect the city and my friends that made me come here. I felt a sense of outrage at the elf who’d killed these trees. In my eyes, he’d betrayed his kind. To destroy a healthy, natural ecosystem for selfish gain was abhorrent. If it was the last thing I did, I’d undo the damage he’d done — I’d at least leave this state no worse than the humans had made it over the centuries.

Finally I saw the trees; blackened trunks with branches that drooped naked stems into the rising waters. Reaching out, I touched the bark and thought of the trees they’d once been, the trees they’d become after the Bon Nuit ritual.

Anger, and a sense of injustice, unlocked the store of Irix’s energy I’d held within, powering it beyond even what I’d done at the levees. I felt the ground shudder, the tree twist against my hand. As I opened my eyes, I saw the trees shimmer with golden light, visible even through the driving storm. Golden, like the color of Irix’s eyes.

I thought of him, the passion in his kisses, the way his eyes devoured me. He’d more than met me halfway, going far beyond a demon’s nature to help me save the city. I hoped I’d see him again, that he’d still care for me when I did. I hoped he’d be proud of what I was doing now, even if he beat me senseless for disobeying him and putting myself at such risk.

The forest exploded in green and growth, limp branches launching upward and sprouting needles, new trunks rising from the waters to thicken before me. They rose, firm and proud, enveloping the dark sky and easing the wind that drove against them from the south. I smiled, rubbing the rain–blackened bark of the tree. Then I looked up.

The mage had been the one with the weather magic, but Irix had once told me elves were masters of weather. They created seasons at their whim, rain and sun as they pleased. I was only a half–breed, but I’d
felt
the spell Basteau had cast. The pattern of energy, the incantations and symbols spun across my mind, forever committed to memory as if they’d been etched there. Maybe, just maybe, I could do something to downgrade this storm.

Summoning every last bit of energy within myself, I raised my arms to the heavens. As I felt the storm, experienced its power and force, I sensed something familiar — something prickly, like static against my skin. The witches. Their spell was full of power, but it just couldn’t seem to take hold. Like I’d done in the Bon Nuit ritual, I gathered their power to me, held it tightly inside, then launched it in a blast toward the storm.

Riding the surge of energy into the huge swirl of cloud and wind above, I slowed the storm. It felt like turning off a faucet that had long been rusted. My legs shook, and I sank to my knees in the murky water. The rain still fell, but steady instead of driving. The wind’s roar quieted. The sky lightened enough to see the trees silhouetted against it. My ears rang, unaccustomed to the relative silence. And I heard a shout.

The angry expletives were in a language I didn’t speak, but having had them shouted at me earlier today, I recognized the voice and dove face down into the swamp water. I just missed being cooked by the fireball that skimmed the bayou’s surface.

The water warmed around me, and the first thing that went through my mind was that someone had peed in the swamp. Funny as that was, it wasn’t the appropriate time for humor with an elf launching fireballs at me. I felt a surge of energy as I resurfaced above the water and realized the elf was trying to stir up the storm again and reverse what I’d done to dampen it.

A sort of tug–of–war ensued between us. I was drained of energy, barely able to stand, but in the face of his onslaught, something clicked within, and power rushed through my very bones. It was as if a door opened and a huge conduit began funneling energy into me. My skin prickled with it, and I felt like my hair was standing on end. Realizing that we were at an impasse, the elf gave up, and, with a scream of frustration, launched another fireball at me.

This one was smaller than the last, and I managed to avoid it. Thankfully, Irix’s leather jacket shielded me from the heat. Another followed that one, and I began wading as quick as I could through the water, trying to evade the elf and head toward the road. My only defense was electricity, but I was reluctant to toss a lightning bolt at this guy with us both standing in two feet of water.

The elf must have ran out of fireballs, because the next thing I felt was roots emerging from the murky soil beneath my feet to wrap around my legs. I could hear him splashing after me and assumed he meant to hold me in place until he could catch up. I might not be a master of weather, or have any idea how to create a fireball, but plants were
mine
. I easily stepped free of the roots and played his trick back at him.

Through the dark and rain, I saw the bold horizontal lines of the roadway ahead. The elf was still pursuing me, but hadn’t gained any. When it came to control of plant life, we were evenly matched. Not bad for a half–breed barely twenty–one years old. My surge of pride was short lived, though, as I realized I’d not have time to get in the Corolla, start it, and get out of range before the elf caught up.

I was scrambling up the rise to the roadway, still fighting off grasping roots, when I saw a faint flash of light up the road. It couldn’t have been lightning. Was some idiot walking around in a hurricane with a flashlight? Or worse, driving in this downpour? I thought I was the only fool heading into the eye of the storm in a car tonight.

My run through the swamp had brought me out somewhere else on the roadway, and the Corolla was nowhere in sight. Taking a gamble, I ran south. If I didn’t find the car, maybe I could outrun the elf and manage to lose him at some crossroad, or another bayou. Deep in my heart, I worried I was facing my death. I was only a half–breed, and the man behind me could most likely outrun me on the flat. Giving up wasn’t an option, though, so I poured on the speed and raced in a straight line down the roadway, rain stinging my skin.

I saw that flash of dim light again as I rounded a corner and wondered if it really was lightning. I didn’t have any experience with tropical storms or hurricanes. The light worried me less than the thud of footsteps, audible over the pouring rain. The elf was gaining on me. I could practically feel him behind me, his breath on my neck, the brush of his hand against my arm.

Something grabbed my shoulder, spinning me to the side. I felt a body thud into mine, and I twisted frantically. His hand slipped on the rain–soaked jacket, and a sharp, hot pain lanced my side. The fucker had stabbed me.

Luckily, Irix’s coat had concealed my form, and the knife missed its mark, tearing through leather and my shirt to skim the skin of my waist. I panicked, realizing how close I’d come to dying. Screaming, I twisted and slipped the leather coat off one shoulder, knotting it around the knife blade that the elf was trying to tug loose.

The beam swept across us, like a spotlight. Not lightning, but I didn’t have a spare moment to wonder what the hell it was when I was fighting for my life. If this elf got the knife loose, I wouldn’t be so lucky the second strike. There were no plants nearby for me to utilize, and my human fighting skills were next to nil. I’d never taken martial arts, or even been in a cat fight. I’d always been the peacemaker and found myself relying on instincts alone, hoping that the slim chance I had of surviving would roll to my advantage.

I was yanked to the side with the elf, before falling to the pavement as his hands loosened. Rolling for some much–needed distance and springing to my feet, I took a quick glance behind me to assess the situation before I took off again. What I saw rooted me in place, my mouth open in amazement.

Irix. He’d stayed. He’d come after me. He was wrestling the elf, pounding him with some kind of energy.

After the first few hits, Irix began to falter. He’d always been so strong, but right now he seemed exhausted. The elf absorbed his lightning bolts, lashed him with wind and rain, and stabbed him repeatedly with the knife he’d managed to free from my leather jacket. I wasn’t sure what to do. Lightning didn’t seem to affect this elf, and there wasn’t anything else offensive I knew how to do.

I watched, helpless, as Irix fought, absorbing the elf’s blows and fixing his own wounds as he tried to gain the advantage. The surge of adrenaline I’d felt earlier left me in a rush, and I felt even weaker, dropping again to the pavement. Frantically, I ran through my inventory of skills, and for the first time in my life I’d wished I was more demon than elf. Maybe then I’d be able to help Irix.

Electricity. Plant growth. Minor control over weather. Nothing useful, and I had no weapons on me. I crawled toward the pair, now rolling across the roadway, and managed to grab a thrashing foot. I hoped it was the elf’s. A flash lit the sky, and I saw that I held a booted foot that clearly wasn’t Irix’s

Fear for Irix sent me beyond all rational thought, and I acted on instinct. Rot. Disease. Death. I poured every hateful thought I had into that foot I held. That dreadful day I’d killed my father — the day that haunted my dreams, came to mind. The anger, the resentment. He’d feared me for as long as I could remember, but he had been hateful to Wyatt. I’d seen him beat my beloved brother, say cruel things to him. I’d seen Wyatt cringe, enduring his blows and curses. I’d snapped, in defense of the brother I adored. I protected those I loved — then and now.

The shoe I held blackened, and so did the few inches of flesh above it. I wasn’t especially strong, but the pain of necrotic tissue distracted the elf enough for Irix to get hold of his neck. With a flash of gold and a twist, the elf’s head popped off, like the cork from a bottle of champagne, and rolled with a spray of blood across the rain–soaked road.

Irix and I stared breathlessly at each other, emotions jumbled as we crouched over the headless body of the elf. Without a word, I launched myself at him, plastering my body against his to knock him flat against the pavement. My lips met his in hunger, desperation, need.

“Amber,” he gasped when he’d finally come up for air. “Are you hurt? I saw him stab you.”

“Flesh wound. But why are you here? You’re supposed to be safely back in Hel.”

Even in the darkness I could see his stern look. It filled me with a sense of belonging. Weird, I know, but the thought that someone cared enough about me to be pissed at my actions filled me with a surge of emotion. So far, only my brother, Wyatt, and the woman I’d always called my mother had loved me enough to reprimand me.

“Why are
you
not with Ourson and the vampires at Bliss?”

I squirmed, as much to feel him against me as in embarrassment. “I wanted to repair the trees, to protect the city, so I came out here. I didn’t know the elf would come here too.”

“You lied to me.” Irix’s voice was soft, and there was a note of pride mixed with the anger.

“Yeah, I did.” Might as well be honest about it. Not like he’d believe me if I tried to make up some excuse. I’d known from the moment we fixed the levees that I was going to come here and do what I could to repair the southern barriers.

“You’ve got a lot of demon in you for a half breed.” He kissed me, his mouth warm in contrast with the cold rain. I relished every moment, knowing he needed to go.

I rolled off as he broke the kiss and extended a hand to help him to his feet. He grabbed it, but didn’t put any weight against me as he rose. I saw the dark shape of a vehicle off to the side, half submerged in the swamp with headlights reflecting in the water. The stolen Cadillac, no doubt.

“You need to go.” I hated this second goodbye even more than the first.

“Yes.”

Hopefully in a few decades, or centuries, he’d be able to cross back over from Hel. My heart ached with the thought. Decades was far too long to wait to see him again. A year was far too long to wait. I’d be miserable without him, counting the hours until I could see him again.