Stained (14 page)

"Come--"

The pressure on Julia's arm decreased and she fell back, stunned. Her wrist hurt worse than anything had ever hurt before. She shook it, and something slid down to her forearm. It was thick and wet. She screamed again. Blood oozed from the biker's severed hand, still clutching her skin. She didn't see the rest of him.

Cayne ripped the door off the car, scooped Julia into his arms, and carried her to a thick patch of grass. She gasped for air but couldn't get any. She saw a million stars in the sky and on his face. His hands cradled her head, and his rumbling voice was soothing in her ear.

"It's okay," he murmured. "Everything's going to be fine."

He pried the horrible hand off and put her ear to his chest. "Listen to my heart. Listen to my lungs."

They were steady, like the second hand on a clock. Julia tried to emulate them.

"I think your wrist is broken."

She nodded. Cayne rubbed her back. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

She wanted to cry, but she felt dizzy and empty. She made herself sit up, and saw a spot of blood on Cayne's shoulder. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine. One of the bullets nicked me."

Julia touched the spot; it was still warm. Her throat made a high-pitched sound, and she tried to cover her mouth. A jolt of pain shot through her arm, and she stifled a sob.

Cayne stroked her hair with his free hand. "We'll take you to a doctor."

Julia jerked away. "I'm not upset because I broke my wrist." She wiped at her face with the hand that wasn't throbbing. "And for the record, I'm not crying."

"We can wrap that in something," he said softly. "I think it would make it feel better."

"Okay." Julia sat still as Cayne gently disentangled himself. He stood and began to remove his shirt. "There's probably something in the car," she said.

The pain was getting crazy. Julia's brain shorted out while Cayne helped her up. He rummaged through the wreckage, and she stared dumbly at the dead biker. Tar-like blood oozed from several wounds on his torso, chest, and neck. His shirt was tattered, and just under one tear, on a blood-free piece of skin, Julia saw something that made her pain go away.

Carefully, she bent over the body and tore a piece of fabric away.
Oh, crap
.

There was a starburst on his chest. It wasn't a birthmark; it was a thick, raised scar, as if someone had taken a cattle brander to his chest.

"Cayne!"

Cayne looked at the biker, blew a breath out of his nose, and trotted up the road. Julia hurried behind him. They found the second bike about half a mile away. Its driver had vanished.

Chapter 19

Almost nothing could make the first twelve hours with a broken wrist bearable.

Almost
nothing.

Julia was discovering that being fawned over by your gorgeous, usually stoic traveling companion made just about anything okay.

Sure, the cast was about as cool as sandals with socks, the sling scrubbed the skin off her neck, and the thing hurt like...well, a broken bone, but in the context of her new life, it wasn't such a big deal.

What caused the bone to break--a zombie-like person with her birthmark burned into his chest (and oh yeah, he had a friend that got away)--was a significantly bigger deal.

Julia assumed that Sam sent the biker boys. Cayne had conditionally agreed (his condition: don't be 100 percent). Julia assumed Sam sent them to 1) snatch her and/or 2) kill her. Again, Cayne had conditionally agreed (same condition). Julia had decided there wasn't much she could do about it, and tried to be attentive when the doctor explained how to take care of her arm.

The good doc was kind enough to remove the bullet from Cayne's shoulder, too. (Yeah, that's right. Mr. I Can Take a Bullet wasn't just grazed.) Then the entire staff was kind enough to forget about the two banged-up drifters that rode in on a stolen motorcycle. West Coast people were cool like that.

So, after a night of pain pills and panic and a day lost to sleep, Julia was trying not to think about what had happened. They were moving on.

To San Francisco.

Cayne had said they were very close to Sam, and maybe that colored her lens, but the main things Julia noted about the city were that it was busy and cold. The San Francisco Bay Bridge, all elegant angles and beams that touched the light-stained sky. The skyscrapers, glittering like the pyramid from her dreams. Everything reflected their situation.

Cayne drove along the bay, where the pale, gleaming wake line of a sailboat ran parallel to the shore. He hung a left into Chinatown, then took a right, then a left, then a right and a left and a left...

Eventually he let the car crawl beside a strip of baby doll houses that seemed conjoined at the sides.

"Almost there," he said.

Julia thought she might puke. Here terror, previously masked by the lingering ache in her arm and the New City Whoa factor, reasserted itself.

Samyaza, the creature that had killed her family, that had almost killed her--almost killed
Cayne
--was close.

Cayne's fingers traced a line from Julia's ear to her chin. He turned her head so she had to look at him. "He won't hurt you." His eyes were full of conviction. "I won't let him."

His hand moved to her shoulder, and he squeezed it. Not even that could calm her. "Is he there?" she asked, trembling.

Cayne shut his eyes, and when he opened them, they gleamed. "I'm not sure."

"What?" The shrillness was back. "Why can't you tell?"

"Do you remember my dagger?" Julia nodded. "When I use it, some of my blood seeps into my victims. It works as a poison." He flexed his right hand. "I'm following Samyaza's blood. I sense it near, but it may be in someone else."

Julia cringed, and he said, "That's not going to happen to you."

"Or you."

"Or me."

He turned onto a street lined with slim two-story homes in Easter egg colors. Downtown sprung from behind them like a giant steel forest with leaves of light. They stopped in front of a pale yellow building and got out.

Cayne took the lead and cut through the yard, and Julia noticed a light on in one of the downstairs rooms. She took it as a good sign, until Cayne opened the door without knocking.

A familiar curdling odor filled Julia's nose, and just two steps inside, she found the source. A young family of three was dead at their kitchen table. The mom and dad slumped into their plates. Pasta. The mom's arm was still reaching for her son.

Julia backed into the wall, wide eyes devouring everything. Theirs were open, too, staring dully at the blood that pooled around their heads. It was still dripping onto the floor.

Julia felt a whoosh of air behind her and yelped. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow flitting deeper into the house.

"Cayne," she cried, but he was already dashing down the hall.

Julia stayed on his heels, cradling her arm as she listened for the danger she sensed but couldn't see. They went through a living room and a library and then up cedar stairs.

The little boy's room was the first on the right. The walls were bright green; the windows were open, and the long navy curtains rippled like tiny waves on a cool breeze. His bed had a sailboat spread and tiny pillows shaped like fish. A Nintendo DS sat at its center, the screen still lit.

Julia covered her mouth, and Cayne squeezed her elbow. "We need to search the rest of the floor."

She nodded and followed him into the parents' room. All clear.

"Maybe I just imagined it?"

She was hopeful, but Cayne shook his head. "I saw it, too."

He also probably felt it. Julia certainly did. There was a dark presence in the house with them. Malice. Danger.

She was almost relieved when something creaked in the hall. Cayne summoned his dagger and sprinted lightly to the door. He motioned for Julia to stay in the bedroom, but that wasn't going to happen. She grabbed Cayne's free hand, and, quietly, they crept out of the bedroom.

Both of their gazes darted to the only space they hadn't checked: the bathroom across from the staircase.

The door was slightly ajar, but Julia couldn't see anything but shadows within. She bit her lip and dropped several paces behind, so Cayne passed the boy's bedroom a few feet ahead of her.

That's when the shadow darted out.

Julia screamed as Samyaza thrust his dagger at her. Cayne lunged to deflect the blade, stopping it not an inch from Julia's chest. He backhanded Sam and drove his knife into the dark Nephilim's side.

Sam tackled Cayne, and the two rolled down the stairs in a heap. The Nephilim Lord landed on top, and he brought his fist down on Cayne's face. When Julia caught up, she did one of the bravest things she had ever done in her life: she plucked a framed picture from the wall and tossed it at his back.

It bounced off harmlessly, and Sam whirled. Cayne locked his legs around the Nephilim king and punched him in the chest. They wrestled in what could only be described as fast-forward, tumbling through the living room at sprinting speeds.

Cayne wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, but Sam pushed off the floor and rammed Cayne into a wall. Cayne's grip loosened, and Sam tossed him over a couch. Julia, who was still standing on the last stair, her hands over her mouth, realized there was nothing between her and the murderous Nephilim. Sam realized it, too.

He dove for her, but Cayne's dagger sliced the space between them. Sam twisted to avoid the blade and crashed head-first into the wall. Cayne plucked Julia off the stairs and tried to whisk her away, but Sam grabbed his leg.

Cayne and Julia landed hard. He kicked out at Sam, catching his jaw. Cayne leapt to his feet, shoved Julia behind him, and raised his dagger. Sam, now standing, matched his pose.

While the two eyed each other, Julia tried to find a weapon. Fighting Sam was second to last on her Fun Things To Do list, but Letting Cayne Get Killed was at the bottom.

Unfortunately, the only thing she was able to find was the dead family. She made a small "eek" noise--she had briefly forgotten they were still at the kitchen table--and Sam turned his crimson eyes on her.

"You see what happens to the Stained."

Julia stepped toward Cayne. He glared at Samyaza and asked, "Stained?"

"Don't play the fool, Cayuzul."

"It's Cayne. And I'm not playing."

Sam snorted. "It matters not what you call yourself. But changing your name does not change your mission."

"My mission?"

Sam glanced at Julia and laughed. "I would like to be there when you remember."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cayuzul, I tire of this game." Sam's voice was firm. Clearly, for him, the conversation was over. "Give me the girl, or I will take her."

"Not a chance."

Before Cayne had even finished the words, Samyaza was on him. Cayne deflected his first blow, but Sam caught him with an elbow to the chin.

Cayne's head snapped back, and Sam stabbed him in the chest. He staggered, and Sam swiped at his face. He dodged that blow but crumpled as Samyaza's dagger sliced his throat.