Stained (2 page)

"Huh?"

"You gotta--" The guy stopped, eyes jerking up. "He's here! Go!"

Julia followed his gaze and froze. Clearly, she had lost her mind, because the Angel of Death was above her: the nutty vision she'd seen above her burning house--only this time he wasn't a vision.

Shock made her cold and still as he slipped through the hole in the roof and extended two raven wings. They slunk in and out of the shadows, stretching until they seemed to fill the room.

He stared at Julia with blood-red eyes and spoke in a chilling baritone: "You're supposed to be dead." He looked at the wounded guy, lip curling. "So are you."

Then Death dove.

He was a breath away before she could blink, and then he was gone, rammed by the guy she'd saved. He flung Death into the wall, shaking the building like an earthquake, and landed a quick punch before Death kneed him in the chest.

Julia wanted to watch, to watch out for him, but the floor lurched up to meet her. When the room stopped spinning, her savior was kneeling in front of her, his thick arms stretched out as if to shield her.

Death hung in the dusty air. His crimson eyes narrowed, and as Julia pushed herself up on her elbows, his mouth curved.

"Go down this path," he growled, "and you will be the enemy of all."

Julia was confused until she realized he was talking to the guy. With a last look at her protector, Death departed, gone even faster than he'd come.

Her savior (or was she his?) took two steps after him, green eyes to the sky, fists clenched at his sides. He looked so beautiful, so powerful and so defiant, that Julia almost felt afraid. Then Death was out of sight, and his breath hitched. His whole body seemed to deflate.

Something that looked like disappointment dragged on his features as he turned to her. "Are you okay?" His voice was deep--heavy--with a touch of...something. An almost accent.

"Am I
okay
?" Julia's voice cracked on the word. "What do you think?"

His lips quirked before his face set with an intensity that sliced her nerves.

Julia forced herself to return his stare. In her most chill tone--in a tone that said nothing of the wild disbelief she felt--she said, "What was that?"

His eyes narrowed and, with a strange poise, he drew himself up; standing tall, he was even more statuesque, all shoulders and hard, round muscle. "Probably what you think."

Which was obviously not an answer.

"I think it was--" the Angel of Death, but how exactly could she admit that and not sound insane? She didn't get a chance to figure it out before the guy's brows pinched.

"And what exactly are you?"

Julia giggled. She sounded unhinged, but she couldn't help it. "I'm a person."

He stepped closer, eyes damning. "You touched me."

She hedged back.

"You healed me." It was an accusation.

"So?"

"So how'd you do it?"

"I--" She had never tried to explain it before. Only one other person had ever known her secret. "I don't know how. I just did."

His eyes were emerald drills, digging into her. Her eyes dug right back. She had the sense that he was going to say something--something that would help her make sense of the freakishness that was her life. Instead he just said, "Thank you."

And then he turned away.

"Wait!" Julia cried, lunging for the sleeve of his tattered gray t-shirt. "You can't go!"

"I can't?" He arched a brow.

"What about me?" she cried.

"What about you?"

"You can't just leave me here!"

The guy rolled his eyes. "Isn't this where I found you?"

Julia wanted to scream, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. "You have to at least explain what's going on. Who that guy was?"

"No I don't," he said flatly. Through the strands of his hair, she saw his jaw flex. "You need to forget about it."

"That thing killed my family!"

The words were like razors dragged through her throat, but they got her nothing. Not even a tightening of his wide shoulders as he swaggered off.

"I helped you!" she yelled at him.

He kept walking.

"You owe me!"

Still walking.

"He's trying to kill me!"

That stopped him, and Julia bumped into his back. She jumped away, flushing with anger, and something else that made it hard to say: "I need to know. Who-- no,
what
is that thing?"

The guy's eyes narrowed, and Julia didn't need her Sight to see the fury written on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"His name is Samyaza. He's... You would call him a half-demon."

Chapter 3

Julia shouldn't have been shocked. Samy-whatever did, after all, have wings. But hearing it aloud made it real. A demon--half-demon, whatever difference that made--had killed Suzanne and Harry.
So it
was
her fault.

Well, of course it was. She was a freak, wasn't she? And didn't freaks attract freakishness? She'd heard it in her first foster home, had known it all her life.

The guy who was fighting the half-demon had turned, and was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why is he trying to kill you?"

"How should I know?"

"But you're sure it's you he was trying to kill?" His voice was skeptical, and Julia threw her hands up. "Didn't you hear what he just said? 'You're supposed to be dead.'"

"Yeah," the guy's voice was sharp, "but that doesn't prove anything."

He took my life away.

"He burned down my house. He killed...he..."

Seconds passed, and neither of them moved. When Julia found her voice again, she was livid. "Why are you being so withholding?" The guy's brows lifted, but Julia didn't care. "Tell me what the hell is going on. I
deserve
to know."

The guy shook his head and started walking again, footsteps echoing in the empty warehouse. "I couldn't tell you."

"Yes you could!" But he didn't. "You've gotta tell me something," she yelled at his broad back. "Anything! Who are
you
?"

The word sailed back at her as he pushed through the warehouse door: "Cayne."

She dashed after him. "All right. Cayne."

His long legs made uncomfortably big strides over the cracked pavement, but Julia edged ahead, noticing, in the dim moonlight, a deep cut over his eye. Without thought she reached for his face. It would only take her fingertips brushing his jaw--

Her hand grasped air, and then her wrist was breaking. Julia yelped as Cayne twisted her arm. As fast as he caught it, he dropped it. She stumbled back, stunned.

"Ow." Her eyes stung. "You prick! I was trying to--" She pointed to his face. "You have a cut." Oh, great. She was crying now.

He frowned, and her anger piqued. "There." She pointed at the spot again, and his finger trailed the ruddy outline around it.

"Oh."

"Yeah." She sniffed. "Way to overreact."

Cayne frowned. "You should be careful when you're grabbing at someone's face."

"You should apologize," she said thickly.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away, walking in long, forceful bursts through the damp dirt.

Julia stuck to him. "I'm feeling generous," she tried. "I'll still fix your cut...and all the other stuff I didn't get--if you'll just talk to me. A little."

But he wouldn't talk to her. He wouldn't even look at her. He stepped fluidly over a broken bottle, moving on the balls of his feet like a big scary cat.

Julia remembered something she'd heard on NPR, where Suzanne had always kept the radio. Someone--a psychology expert--had said that if you got kidnapped you should try to get the kidnapper talking. Try anything. Just keep throwing conversation starters out there until he (or she) bonded with you, and decided to let you go. Maybe it would work in reverse. "You never told me why you were on the roof with Sama-- Samy...that half-demon guy?"

He kept walking.

"Hel-
lo
, Cayne. Stonewalling is not polite. And it isn't going to make me go away." She raised her voice, projecting it over the dim roar of traffic a few blocks over. "What were you doing before you fell through the roof? How did you even get up there?"

This time he looked down to glare.

"Aaah, he's not catatonic!" She clapped. "Let me guess-- God, you walk fast. I'm not going to bite you." He was walking so quickly she had to jog to keep up. She followed him through an abandoned stockyard, hopping over coils of wire. "Let's start with something easy. How about age? I'm going to go with something like seventeen."

"Yes. Now leave me alone."

"I can't. Someone is trying to
kill me
. Some
thing
."

Cayne stopped walking, fixed those brilliant eyes on her. "GO. AWAY."

The command in his voice was almost overpowering, but Julia wasn't in an obedient mood. "No."

Cayne's eyes narrowed. "Leave."

She shook her head.

He seemed surprised, then frustrated. He spun, and Julia scampered behind him, silently cursing him and her life. "Sorry. Okay. No more questions about you. I just have to know what--"

"Stop." It was almost a plea, and for a moment she did stop. Cayne turned, exhaustion plain on his face.

"Why were you fighting that thing?" she asked softly. "Sam."

Cayne's beautiful, hard-as-stone eyes looked blue under the moon. "He attacked me."

Julia took the tiniest step closer and noticed they were in the tall grass now, near the river. She had been chasing him for more than a mile.

"Okay, so--"

His hand jerked up, and her mouth snapped shut. She followed him on putty legs to the shore, where he bent to unlace his sneakers.

"You really don't know why he's trying to kill you? What's...going on?" Cayne asked over his shoulder as his fingers worked the laces. Julia shook her head. His eyes narrowed, like he thought she was lying. "You never told me what you were."

The interest in his eyes made her shy, stupid though that was. She folded her arms over her chest and tried to look unaffected. Like she didn't think he was hot. Like she didn't have a thing for shaggy hair and tight-ish t-shirts. "As you can plainly see, I'm a girl."