Stone Cold Lover (23 page)

The location of the Hierophant, though, wasn’t what Fil kept asking about. No, all of her questions centered on the Guardians—how they were summoned, how long they worked between their periods of slumber, if they ever woke when the world wasn’t in imminent peril. If Wynn guessed the reasons behind the other woman’s questions, she never let on.

“They wake when the Warden they’re bonded to finishes training his apprentice,” the witch had explained. “It’s a way of passing the torch from one Warden to the next, so the Guardian is familiar with him if the new guy has to do a summoning during his tenure. But as far as I know, it’s either that, or humanity’s pants are on fire. Not really much in between.”

Fil found that less than reassuring. She picked up her brooding right where she’d left off, minus the psychotic, demon-inspired fit of rage, but Spar threw himself into their new search with gusto. He seemed determined to ferret out every gruesome death and every missing persons report he could get his hands on. Accessing those was pretty slow going, though. They had to rely mostly on newspaper reports, since asking the police to identify any demon attacks or ritually sacrificed humans would likely land them in jail, or the nuthouse.

Of course Fil had contacted Ricky, but even that had proved more than a touch awkward. Explaining her newfound interest in the subject of death and mayhem turned out to be a bit tricky.

“First you ask me about a bombing the police still haven’t been able to explain, and now you want to know about ritual murders?” the reporter had demanded, his tone incredulous. “Girl, have you gotten yourself mixed up in something I don’t want to know about? ’Cause this is starting to sound like you’re founding your own terrorist cell, or something.”

Fil had rolled her eyes. “Right. Me and the Taliban. I’m looking into something for a friend, Ricky, but if you aren’t comfortable helping me out, just say so. I’ll find another way to get the information; it’ll just take me longer.”

“Oh, I’m damned uncomfortable, but I’ll still help. I’ve owed you more than one favor through the years, Fil, but I’m pretty sure this is going to even the scales. I don’t want to know if you’re trying to track down a serial killer or studying up to become one yourself—either way, that’s a dangerous path to walk. You be careful.”

She knew Ricky didn’t actually believe she was out to become a killer, but she understood his warning. She was into something dangerous, she just couldn’t explain what it really was. And if she’d tried, she doubted he would have believed her. After all, who went around trying to track down demons and demonic minions? It made her sound even crazier than the serial-killer angle.

If she was honest with herself, she felt pretty crazy these days, and dealing with demons, a cult of demon worshippers, human sacrifice, and the location of the head lunatic contributed to that the least. It was the guy with wings determined to save the world that made her feel like she’d lost her mind.

She tried being all Zen about it, living in the moment, not thinking about the future but savoring each moment as it came. That had lasted all of about half an hour; then Spar had mentioned something about how he would like to show Fil the cathedral he had once guarded in the Alsace. Just like that, all her tranquility went flying out the window. Hearing him talk about the future as if he could be part of hers made her want to scream. Didn’t he get what it did to her to think about him leaving her?

He stepped up behind her, his movements as silent as ever, so she didn’t realize he had approached until his arms drew her up against the back of the sofa. Leaning down, he nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear.

“I think it is time to take a break, little human.” He pressed a kiss against her sensitive skin, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver. “I am getting hungry. How about you?” Another kiss, followed by the teasing scrape of his teeth. “Or would you rather just have lunch?”

Heart aching, Felicity shrugged and scooted forward out of his grip. He let her go, but his wicked chuckle died into puzzled silence. She felt his gaze boring into her back, but she ignored it. “Go ahead and fix yourself something. I’m not hungry.”

She stood and reached out to move the laptop, but Spar stepped in front of her. His hand closed around her elbow and tugged her to face him. “What is wrong? You appear angry. How have I offended you?”

Fil snorted. “I’m not offended, Spar. I’m fine. I’m just not in the mood right now.”

“Not in the mood?” he repeated, scowling down at her. “You do not wish to make love with me at the moment. I respect that, but I do not care to be lied to, Felicity. Something clearly bothers you. You will tell me what it is.”

“Actually, I won’t.” She closed the laptop with a snap and shook free of his hand. “I know it’s your duty to look after me, Spar, and I know you have a great time when we have sex, but none of that makes you entitled to know every little thing that goes on inside my head, so back off.”

Spar reached for her again, this time grabbing her left hand. “You sound as you did before Wynn severed the mark. Has something happened? Is its power over you returning? We should call her and ask her to come right away.”

“It’s not the damned mark, Spar! I can be pissed off without being under the influence of demonic juju. Just leave it alone.”

“I will not leave it alone. You behave irrationally. Last night you lay in my arms and held me close to you as you slept, but now you act as if I have committed some great evil against you. If I have done something that upsets you, I deserve the chance to make it right. Since I can think of nothing of the sort, I require you to explain it to me so that I can apologize for my actions.”

Fil threw up her hands. She felt like laughing, or crying, because this argument was so ridiculous and she knew she had started it. She was behaving like an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The pain inside her wanted to be shared, and Spar, ever vigilant by her side, was the perfect target.

“You haven’t done anything, Spar,” she gritted out. “You haven’t done anything, you haven’t said anything, you haven’t so much as
thought
anything. At least, not as far as I can tell. I guess I’m just in a really bad mood.”

He stepped forward, reaching for her, and Fil froze. If he put his arms around her right now, she thought she might shatter into about nine billion tiny pieces.

“If you are upset, let me help,” he murmured. “Let me comfort you.”

“I told you, Spar, let it drop.”

He let it drop. He let his arms drop, then he let his disguise drop until he stood before her in his natural form, the top of his head nearly brushing the apartment’s ceiling. His sharply carved features glowered at her as he bared his fangs and tapped his talons together with a menacing click.

“You ask me to do the impossible, human,” he growled, the sound even deeper than usual, more ominous. “I have revealed myself to you in every way imaginable, and yet still you would conceal yourself from me. Do you have so little consideration for me? For my feelings? Do you look at me as I am now and think of me as a monster? Is that why every time I get close to you, you find a reason to push me away?”

“No! Spar, I have never thought you were a monster.” Fil bit her lip, torn between the instinct to protect herself by keeping her true feelings for him secret, and the need to let him know that no matter what he looked like, in human form or Guardian, she loved him. It wasn’t what he was that was killing her, it was what she would become without him.

Empty.

She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking by pressing them hard against her thighs. “Spar, I don’t think you’re—”

The sound of church bells announced that she had a phone call. She saw Spar’s eyes narrow, knew he was about to order her not to answer, so she dove for the cell phone and pressed the
ANSWER
button as fast as humanly possible. As it was, his roar nearly drowned out her breathless “Hello?”

There was a pause on the other end of the call. “Jesus, where are you, Fil? The Granby Zoo? Did you piss off one of the lions?”

“Rick. No, sorry, that was, um, the TV. Let me just turn it down.” She shot Spar a warning glance and turned her back on him to concentrate on the reporter’s voice. “Hey, you got something for me?”

“I’ve got a reason for us to sit down and talk. Meet me at Claude’s in half an hour.”

Fil winced. She didn’t need to run that idea by Spar to know he would object. He’d gotten even more cautious about letting her go out in public these last few days. She glanced at him, wondering if he’d blow his feathers when she told him what Rick had requested.

“Um, I’m not sure,” she began, but Rick overrode her objections.

“Half an hour, Fil. You’re going to want to hear this, and then I’m going to want to know why.”

He hung up before she could say more.

When Fil turned back to her Guardian, she got a shock at seeing him already back in his human form, tugging at the sleeves of his dark-gray sweater. “What are you doing?”

He jerked his chin at the phone. “I hardly think your friend needs to see me in my true form over
café
and bagels.”

His voice sounded clipped and cold, a tone he’d never used with her before, and Fil found she didn’t like it at all. It made a fist squeeze in her belly.

“You’re angry.”

He looked at her. “A moment ago, we were both angry. You did not wish to talk then; I do not wish to talk now. I heard the reporter ask you to meet him. You know I cannot allow you to go alone.” He waved toward the door. “Shall we?”

Felicity turned without a word to grab her jacket. How did she always manage to push away the people she most wanted to care for her? Was it some kind of curse? You’d think in the last twenty-seven years, she would have learned something about holding on to the ones she loved.

*   *   *

Rick waited for them in the same booth of Claude’s café where they had eaten breakfast two weeks before. This time, instead of sausage and coffee, the place smelled of french fries and beef gravy. Once again, Spar followed Fil through the crowd and tried not to look like he was angry.

He was very, very angry.

His little human threatened to drive him demented. Over and over she seemed to change her mind, seducing him, then pushing him away, drawing him in, then retreating behind a barrier he could not penetrate. He had thought after the demon’s mark was severed, things had gotten a little better. She had leaned on him during that experience, and since then—while she had seemed perhaps a bit quiet—she had made no move to withdraw from him. Not until this morning.

He felt as if he had reached the top of a mountain, only to have an undetectable tremor set off a landslide that washed him right back to the bottom again. He had chosen Felicity as his mate, and there was no going back for him, but he was beginning to fear his patience with her vacillations would not last much longer. He wanted her to love him before he claimed her, but he didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

A hint of his temper must have shown in his expression, because the reporter looked uneasy when he slid into the booth beside Felicity.

“Wow, he looks even more cheerful than the last time I saw you guys.”

“We’re both little rays of sunshine,” Felicity said with a definite snarl. Spar felt a surge of satisfaction that she had not shaken off their argument, either. “You said you had something to tell me. Tell.”

“Aaaaand, all those years at charm school are finally paying off, I see.” Rick set a thick red folder on the table beside his place setting, but he did not push it toward them. He laid his hand over the top and leaned toward Felicity. “You asked me to look into some very dark shit, Fil, and I did it because I consider you a friend, but the stuff I found is going to give me nightmares for a month, and I’ve been working the police beat in this town since before the Hell’s Angels and the Rock Machine started decorating the streets with each other’s blood. Are you sure you want to see this?”

Spar saw her jaw tighten and her chest expand as she drew in a slow breath. When she nodded, the motion was small, but definite. “I have to, Rick. It’s important.”

“No, what it is, is fucked. Up.” He handed Felicity the folder and sat back in his seat. “I advise you to look at everything
before
you eat. I just had these boots shined.”

Spar found the warning unnecessary though not inappropriate. The folder contained not just information, but photographs. Spar guessed the ones that appeared to be outdoors had been taken at a crime scene. Others featured metal tables and surgical instruments that identified them as autopsy photos. The images they depicted were graphic and brutal—slit throats, mutilated bodies, evidence of animal activity on some, what only an educated eye would distinguish as demon activity on others. Human authorities, he knew, would lump it in with the damage done by the animals, but Spar could see the differences.

“How many?” Felicity asked.

Her expression remained blank, but Spar could see the fast beat of her pulse in her throat and feel the distress pouring off her. She was strong, his little human, but no one with a heart could look on these images and not be affected.

“The police have only found three so far, and they’re keeping it very, very quiet,” Rick said. “The last thing they want is a public panic about an active serial killer.” He paused. “Is that what it is?”

“Not exactly.”

Felicity looked at Spar. Before she contacted the reporter for the first time, they had discussed what she would be able to tell him. The whole story would overwhelm him, if he could even be persuaded to believe it, but they could not pretend the questions they asked had been sparked by idle curiosity. In the end, they had settled on a carefully edited version of the truth.

She turned back to the reporter. “We think it’s a cult. We think the murders are being committed as part of some kind of sacrifice.”

“Like satanists?” Rick gave a half laugh. “Normally, I’d tell you that kind of thing only happens in low-budget horror films, but in this case the police have done some speculating of their own. There were some weird things about the bodies.”