Stained (10 page)

And, hey, at least he was part human. Julia had at one point thought he was an angel--a bad, bad angel, but still an angel.

"I was worried," he said, relief coloring every syllable. "How are you not afraid?"

"Well...it's you. Believe it or not, you're not that scary."

The city glowed ahead of them, a million false promises twinkling under a dark mirror. Cayne steered them to it, giving Julia The Teenage Girl's Guide to Nephilim. The abridged version.

Demons existed. They didn't "obey some guy with red horns," but a lot of them were close enough to brimstone and hellfire that it didn't make much difference.

They existed "elsewhere," and years ago, they'd gotten in the habit of coming to the physical world. When they did, they took physical form. And the ones that took the form of humans had trouble keeping their pants on.

Demon-human couplings rarely resulted in pregnancy, and even more rarely in a child. If one was carried to term, it was always male.

"You still haven't told me why he's after me." Julia's throat felt too full, and her eyes stung. She swallowed and inhaled through her nose. She wasn't going to go to pieces; she had hardly even cried for Harry and Suzanne. "Why is he doing this?"

Cayne rubbed his face. "That's what we need to find out. But..."

He let the word linger, and Julia's stomach made like a yo-yo. "But?" Cayne didn't say anything, and the yo-yo became a boomerang. "But what?"

"I've hunted Samyaza for more than three years now, and that's not the first killing field I've found."

"Did they all..."

"Yeah. They all had the same mark."

"H-he's been hunting us for three years?" It sounded strange, the word "us." But that's how it was. These people she'd never met were in the same boat she was.

"Longer, I'm pretty sure."

The boomerang became a NASCAR race. "Longer?"

"For decades."

Shit.

"Julia?"

"I think I'm going to be sick again."

She wasn't, but it was a close call. Cayne pulled over and she staggered out of the car. She sat on a downtown bench, head between her legs. A breeze turned her sweat cool as Cayne stood guard over her. When she was able, she sat up, just in time to take an unopened can of Coke from a passing stranger. She glanced at Cayne and put it on the ground.

"Cayne. You should have told me this from the beginning. Regardless."

"I should have," he said solemnly. "There's no excuse."

"Make one up."

"Do you want that?"

"Yes. I need a reason to not slap you."

Under the glow of the streetlamp his eyes were yellow. He cast them down. "At first, I didn't trust you. I thought Samyaza would reveal himself in Memphis. I thought I'd kill him or die trying to. When I realized it wouldn't be that simple..." He shrugged. "I didn't want you to worry."

Julia laughed bitterly. Not worry. As if. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"I think the people with your mark are getting together. That cabin was a meeting room. I can also tell Samyaza is rushing, even if I don't know why. It's causing him to...make mistakes."

His implication was clear: Julia was a mistake. She should be dead. "Why?" she asked. "Why me? Why people with a birthmark?"

"Maybe he sees you as a threat."

"A threat?" Julia laughed. "Is he hiding a Super Secret Aura?"

Cayne shook his head. "Is the seeing all you can do? Can you do anything else?"

"I don't think so."

He shrugged. "Maybe different ones of you have different talents. Maybe as time goes on, you'll be able to do something else."

Julia buried her face in her hands. "So we're here again," she mumbled. "What am I?"

It was awful not to know. She felt lost and alone.

Cayne must have sensed her hopelessness. He knelt before her, so his eyes were level with hers, and grabbed her small hands in his big, warm ones.

"We'll figure this out," he said as he squeezed her fingers. "I'll keep you safe till then."

The sincerity of his words was written across his beautiful face, underlined in his deep green eyes. Julia wanted to kiss him. But she couldn't, because just holding his hands was making her heart pound.

She forced herself to release them. "Let's go."

In the car, everything in her head congealed into dumb, thick terror. She tried to bat it back. Logic. She needed to be logical. There was an explanation somewhere; she just needed to find it.

She glanced at Cayne. He winked, and despite everything, she felt okay. She tried to hold onto the feeling as the lights of downtown shrank behind them.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked.

"To a bar."

"Um, we're underage."

"The people there won't care."

"They won't? Is it a crazy creatures bar?"

Cayne's mouth twisted. "You could say that."

Julia saw a flash of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and laughed, half ecstatic, half terrified. "You can't be serious."

He nodded.

"A Nephilim bar? In Utah?"

"A normal bar," he corrected. "One owned by a friend. Andre. He's a Walker. They live as humans and stay out of politics. Other Nephilim naturally feel less exposed at his place, so they go there a lot."

"Yeah, but why are we going there?"

"I'm hoping someone will know something about you."

They were driving through urban neighborhoods, past stout brick homes with small lawns and little gardens that reminded Julia of her old street. A thin film of pale clouds pressed low to the treetops, and she wondered what would pin them in first: the narrowing streets or the sky.

She shut her eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. Instead, something else occurred to her. She turned in her seat and looked at Cayne. "Hey, you still haven't told me: Why are you after Sam?"

He fixed his mouth into a little pinch, and she got a distinct "closed" vibe from him. A couple of days ago, she might have let things rest at that, but they were friends now. Weren't they? Friends could prod each other.

"You said you were after him for three years, right? So why?"

"Because...he hunted me."

She didn't have time to comprehend his wild-eyed look, or think about the odd dullness of his voice. Something smashed into the van, and Julia screamed. Cayne jerked the wheel left, and they raced toward a row of trees.

Chapter 14

Before Julia knew what was happening, Cayne had ripped her seatbelt in two and pulled her into his arms.
She screamed as they burst through the windshield. Their momentum carried them up and away in a blast of glass and metal.

Cayne flipped onto his back when they reached the top of their arch and jerked her body close to his. He landed on his feet like a parkour pro, absorbing most of the shock with a low "oomph."

She felt the roughness of the road against her back and butt, and then Cayne was on his feet, sinking into a crouch and clutching a long crimson knife. Julia's head spun. She tried to get up, but he pushed her down.

"Hey!"

"Stay low," he hissed.

She had an instant to take in their location--the edge of a wide, long lawn surrounding a small, white house in an ordinary-looking suburb--before a shadow flew at them. Julia yelped as Cayne caught the dark-haired assailant and slung him into a storage shed. Cayne fell on Julia, shielding her as the wall exploded, rocketing fragments of tin into cars and trees.

Julia saw their second attacker, short and blond, from beneath the crook of Cayne's elbow.

"Cayne!"

He rolled to his feet and leapt at the blond. Their impact caused a shock wave that lifted Julia's hair. Cayne came down on top and savagely rammed his blade into his opponent's chest.

The blond ripped into Cayne's side with his own red knife. Cayne reared, and the blond bucked up. Cayne forced him back down and began to strangle him.

The darker Nephilim shot out of the rubble, moving so fast Julia thought he was a gust of wind. He kicked Cayne off the blond and moved to strike, but Cayne stabbed him in the chest.

Someone screamed.

Julia's head jerked to her left. An elderly couple had emerged from the white house. The woman, a plump white-haired grandmother type in a heavy blue nightgown, covered her mouth. Her eyes flew from the mangled car to her damaged shed to the melee in her yard. The man, bald and heavy-set, in boxers and a white undershirt, hefted a shotgun into the crook of his arm. He seemed equally bewildered.

In a flash of inspiration, Julia ran at the old man and pointed at the dark-haired Nephilim. "That one!"

With all her might, she willed the old man to heed her words. The dark-haired Nephilim turned. He raised his dagger, Cayne's blood dripping down his arm, and a boom ripped the air.

The shot hit the Nephilim in the chest, and he stumbled. That was all the advantage Cayne needed. He grabbed his opponent from behind and flipped him over.

All at once, dozens of neighbors poured from their homes. A man with a goatee had a revolver. "Herbert! What the hell?"

The old man shook his head. He was staring stupidly at the gun in his hand.

"The blond and the short-haired guy attacked us," Julia supplied.

The old man started. "What?"

"They attacked us."

He nodded shakily. "That darker one...I killed him."

He didn't, of course, but Julia didn't need to explain. Cayne was wailing on the blond one again and the brown-haired one was...
staggering to his feet
.

The hole in his chest was still spitting up blood. Several of the women screamed. The old man raised his gun again. "Don't you come one step closer!

"Cayne!"

The bleeding Nephilim leapt for Julia but crumpled in mid-air. He thudded to the ground, Cayne's knife protruding from his neck.

Cayne quickly pinned the blond Nephilim against a tree trunk. "Tell me why!"

"Y-You should--know why. Traitor."

Cayne leaned in so his face was inches from his captive's. "Pretend I don't."

The blond Nephilim pursed his lips and spat blood in Cayne's face. He tried one last time to break free, but with a flick of his wrist, Cayne snapped his neck.

A beat of silence followed the crunch of bone, and then a chorus of gasps filled the air. The bystanders stared fearfully at Cayne as he walked toward Julia.

He was covered in blood; it tangled his hair, stained his face, dripped down his arms, and oozed out of his torso. He seemed close to death, but Julia didn't move to help him. His savage display had frozen her bones.

"Don't you dare," the old man--Herbert--warned as he hefted his shotgun. His arms trembled as he pointed the barrel at Cayne.