The Order Boxed Set (29 page)

“I don’t want to forget.”

“You won’t have any choice, and it won’t be so bad. After all, you won’t even know what you’re missing.”

“I won’t let you do it. Christian will be back, I know he will.”

“He doesn’t expect to come back.” Piers’s voice was harsh and Tara realized he was more upset by this whole thing than she had thought. After all, Christian was his friend.

“And think,” Piers said. “What sort of life could you ever have if the fae are always after you?”

Tara opened her mouth to say she didn’t care when there was a tap on the door. It swung open. Jonas Callaghan stood there, and Tara realized what they meant to do. They were going to cast some sort of spell on her to make her forget Christian. She jumped to her feet, putting the chair between her and the warlock. She glanced around the room. Graham looked sick, Jamie alarmed, only Carl seemed unaffected. She sidled to stand beside him.

“If he comes anywhere near me, shoot him,” Tara said. “In fact, if he does anything at all, shoot him.”

Jonas smiled at her. “Don’t be so melodramatic, my dear. I only have your best interests at heart.”

“Jonas is our newest employee,” Piers said. “I see you’ve already met.”

“Keep him away from me.”

Piers sighed. “I knew you were going to be trouble. Here read this. Perhaps Christian will be able to persuade you.”

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. Tara stared at it, could hardly make her fingers work enough to open it. She tried to focus on the handwriting.

Tara,

Do what Piers says. It’s for the best. We will not meet again.

Christian.

As love letters went, it was sorely lacking. She crumpled it up and threw it on the floor. How dare he make decisions about her life? How dare he presume that he knew what was best for her?

“So,” Piers said. “Are we on?” He glanced round the room, his eyes settling on Jamie, then back to Tara. “You’re going to have to say goodbye to your shifter friend.”

Jamie moved a step closer to her.

“What?” Tara asked blankly.

“No ties with our world, remember.”

Tara shook her head; Piers actually believed she’d let them go through with this.

“Perhaps I’ll keep him myself,” Piers continued. “Shifter blood is always a pleasant change. And you might as well say goodbye to your red-haired friend. If Christian doesn’t come back, he’s finished as well.” Graham looked even sicker.

“At least,” Piers said, “we’ll have proof that Christian is well and truly dead.”

“I thought he was your friend,” Tara said.

“He is my friend, and I’ll abide by his wishes.”

“Well, I won’t just sit here and wait for proof that he’s dead.”

Jonas moved into the room and the door swung shut behind him. Tara watched him warily.

“It doesn’t matter, Tara,” Jonas said. “Even if Christian defeats Asmodai, he has agreed that he will no longer be a part of your life. Let us do the spell as he wanted.”

No way.

She wouldn’t let it happen, would fight against it with everything she had. But glancing from the Warlock to the vampire, she knew her wishes wouldn’t be enough. They were going to steal her very memories from her. She would rather die than let them take her time with Christian away from her.

“Tara.” She turned at the sound of Jamie’s voice. His eyes were wide and panic flashed across his face.

“What is it, Jamie?”

“Asmodai?”

“That’s the demon who’s been going after Christian. His people took Chloe.”

Jamie looked sick, and a wave of alarm washed over her. She didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. She wasn’t capable of any more shocks tonight, and she had a feeling, from the look on Jamie’s face, that this was going to be a whopper.

“Asmodai is your father.”

She swayed. Carl’s arms came around her, holding her steady, and she leaned against him as shock thundered through her.

“What?”

The question came from Piers. He stared at her, but she couldn’t define the expression on his face.

“Oh, this is so good,” Jonas murmured.

Tara pushed at Carl until he released her. She licked her lips.

“Say that again,” she ordered Jamie.

“Asmodai is your father.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded.

“You said you didn’t know who my father was.”

“I lied. I promised your mother I wouldn’t tell, and besides, I didn’t know Asmodai had a vendetta against Christian. I would never have sent you to Christian if I’d known that. Oh God.” He put his head in his hands. “It all makes sense. That’s why he hates Christian.”

“Well, I’m glad it all makes sense to you,” Piers drawled. “But it makes absolutely none at all to me. Why does he hate Christian?”

“Christian was head of the Order. He defeated Asmodai, banished him back to the Abyss. Lillian was fae—she couldn’t follow him. She was left stranded on earth, pregnant and alone. He would never forgive Christian for that and would blame him for Lillian’s death.”

“I thought he kidnapped my mother. I thought she hated him.”

“The fae would like everyone to believe that, but they loved each other. Why else would she have gone to such trouble to keep you?”

Tara tried to get her head around the idea that her mother and father had been in love and not bitter enemies. That her own father had been responsible for Chloe’s death and even at this very moment, he might be killing Christian. And Christian hated Asmodai. What could he ever feel for the daughter of the monster who had killed his family?

“Where do you come into this?” Piers asked Jamie.

“I belonged to Asmodai. He gave me to Lillian as a gift.”

“So, just what sort of shifter are you?”

“I’m a cat and…” Jamie paused.

“And…” Piers prompted.

Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “A hellhound.”

Piers hooted. “Half-demon, half-fae, brought up by a dead woman and now you have a pet hellhound. No, I wouldn’t describe you as normal.”

“What’s a hellhound?” she asked.

Piers grinned. “Do you want to show her?”

Jamie disappeared. In his place was a huge dog-like creature. Graham choked behind her, but she ignored him and examined the creature. His head was level with Tara’s as she gazed at him in awe. His fur was reddish brown, with a black ridge along his back, his body lean, with powerful forelegs ending in vicious inch-long claws. He had pointed ears, yellow eyes, and the longest, sharpest teeth she had ever seen. He stared back at her and something shifted in his eyes. Tara reminded herself that this was Jamie. Her friend. She stroked the fur on his head. It was soft, and he pressed against her hand.

A moment later, Jamie was back.

“Well, that was fun,” Piers said. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” Tara said.

Piers frowned. “How do you see that?”

Tara tried to get her thoughts straight. “We were thinking the demons wanted me to get back at Christian. But what if Asmodai wants to find me because I’m his daughter, and he loved my mother?”

“So what?”

“Maybe he would listen to me. Maybe he would agree to leave Christian alone if I asked him to.”

“How do you expect to ask him? You’ll never find Christian without me, and I can’t enter the Abyss. And I sure as hell can’t see Asmodai coming here.”

“I can.”

Piers ran a hand through his hair. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“I’m going to take off the talisman. The demons will sense me the way they did when I took it off before.”

“Great idea!” Piers said, and Tara could hear the sarcasm in his voice. “Do you know who else will sense you?”

“The fae?” she asked.

“Right first time, and this would make them very unhappy. One of their conditions for not killing you was that the talisman never comes off. That way the demons never know of your existence.”

“We’ll just have to deal with the fae.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

Tara stood and confronted Piers. “This is a chance to save Christian, and I’m doing it. So get used to the idea.”

Piers curled his lip. “You do realize I could just kill you all and go home to bed.”

“You could, but you’re not going to.”

He was quiet for an age. Tara waited for him to speak.

“Shit,” Piers said. “What the hell? I always wanted a go at the Walker anyway.”

Tara didn’t dare hope this would work, but it was a chance.

“We can’t do this in here,” Piers said. “There’s so much magic built into the place that I’m not sure they’d read you.”

“Where then?”

“The roof.”

At the last minute, Tara reached down, picked up Christian’s note, and smoothed the paper. She was about to prove Christian wrong—they would meet again.

Even if it killed her.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

This meeting had been a long time coming. Too long, perhaps.

It was dark in the Abyss. Christian breathed in the cool crisp air, sharp in his lungs but clean and fresh. He liked it here. He always had. Overhead, the sky was full of stars and a half moon hung low against the horizon, casting its dim light over a landscape of mountains and deep rugged gorges.

He knew where to find Asmodai, but he’d manifested a good way from the fortress. He needed to acclimatize to the thinner air. It was slightly warmer than London, and he shrugged out of his coat and left it crumpled on the ground. He had no need to hide his weapons and the coat would slow him down, hamper him in a fight. He thought about leaving the guns as well; bullets would be no use. In the end, he decided to keep them on the slim chance he made it out alive. He also kept the sword down his back and the knife at his thigh.

He saw no one, but was aware he was being watched, and when he reached the fortress, the gate was already raised.

He was expected.

He’d tried not to think of Tara. Now he allowed himself one last image of her. Sprawled on the black silk sheets, her eyes smiling as she told him she loved him. He could imagine how furious she’d be, but he trusted Piers to handle it. She would be safe, and eventually she would be happy. He pushed her from his mind and stepped into his enemy’s stronghold.

The entrance to the fortress was a narrow tunnel, utter darkness that gave way into a courtyard. It was light here; flaming torches formed flickering shadows that danced across the stone walls.

A figure stepped out of a doorway. It approached, bowed low.

“Christian Roth,” it said. “My Lord Asmodai awaits you.”

He followed the hooded figure into the building, along a stone corridor and into a great hall. A huge fire burned at one end, and seated on a wooden chair was the demon prince. Two hellhounds flanked his seat. They raised their heads and growled, their hackles rising as Christian approached.

Asmodai stroked the hounds until they quieted, then rose to his feet. Standing almost seven feet tall, with black, feathered wings furled at his back, he bore little resemblance to the minor demons who served him, those inhuman creatures who filled the nightmares of man. He was lean and handsome with pale skin and dark impassive eyes.

Christian came to a standstill a few feet away. For long minutes, the two men stared at each other. Christian had hated this being for so long, but now, standing before him, he was unsure of what he felt.

There was no fear, but rather a feeling of inevitability, as though his life or rather his death had been leading up to this. He couldn’t destroy Asmodai, but he could weaken him so he’d be stuck in the Abyss for a long time to come.

On the other hand, Asmodai
could
destroy him and probably would, but if he agreed to Christian’s terms then Tara would be safe.

“So,” Asmodai said, “what do you want here, Christian Roth?”

“I want you to finish this.”

“This?”

“You’ve been killing innocents when it’s me you want dead. It’s a coward’s way.”

Asmodai shrugged. “I didn’t ask for details, just that they go after the ones you love.” His dark gaze ran over Christian, and the first signs of emotion showed in his eyes. Black hatred, deeper than the Abyss itself. The wings at his back unfurled, framing him in darkness. “Oh, yes, I want you dead, but first, I want you to understand what it feels like to have those you love ripped from you.”

“You showed me that many years ago.”

A frown flickered across the demon’s face. “I did?”

Disbelief swept over Christian. He’d always held Asmodai accountable for the death of his wife and children, and now it appeared the demon wasn’t even aware of it. “You probably don’t recall all the humans you slaughter.”

“Actually, I very rarely slaughter humans, myself. I have no taste for the sport. At least the fae or even vampires show a little spirit.” He studied Christian carefully. “I killed someone close to you?”

“You killed my wife and daughters.”

“Humans?”

Christian nodded.

Asmodai paced the room, deep in thought. When he returned, he was frowning. “When you insisted on my banishment after the last wars, was that in revenge for what I did to your family?”

“No, you were banished because you broke the Accords. You started a war.”

“I asked for time.”

“I chose not to give it.”

“Because I murdered your wife?”

Christian forced himself to acknowledge the truth. “Perhaps.”

“I understand revenge,” Asmodai murmured. He sank back onto his chair, rested his chin on his fingers, regarding Christian through heavy-lidded eyes. “Are you aware why I have ordered the death of those close to you?”

“No.”

“Do you wish to know before you die?”

“All I require is that it ends here. That you won’t pursue those close to me after this night. Fight me now, and whatever the outcome you leave my people alone.”

“Fight you?” Asmodai seemed amused at the notion. “You know there’s no way you can defeat me here.”

“I can try,” Christian snarled.

Asmodai smiled. “Are you aware of the closeness of bravery and stupidity?” He studied Christian, and his eyes narrowed. “I see it. There is one you love. One you seek to protect. You have no choice in this.”