Stained (9 page)

Authors: Ella James

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Young Adult

BOOK: Stained

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Julia awoke when her ears began to pop, but for a moment she feigned sleep and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was humming with the radio and watching the road like a cat eying a mouse. She could tell he was onto something, so she pushed herself up and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Where are we?" she murmured.

Cayne's eyes slid over her. "In Utah. Twenty miles outside Salt Lake City."

"Did you have any trouble getting gas?"

"No."

"How long was I out?" she asked, opening the visor mirror to inspect her hair.

"Almost six hours."

"Mmm." Julia stretched. "Can we pull over and get me a drink?"

Cayne's mouth tightened; he inhaled. "I've found our friend."

"You have?"

He nodded. "Somewhere in Salt Lake City."

"Somewhere," she said.
"So what's the plan?"

He stared ahead, remote as the sun. "Find him."

The mountains that lorded over the city were massive, purple, snow-capped towers of earth. They made Julia's heart thrum with misplaced elation. It was crazy to be so excited about hunting a demon--well, a half-demon. But as Cayne navigated the widening Interstate, her blood pumped 100 miles per hour.

They bypassed the city, and Cayne grew quieter, tucked into himself. He seemed ready. Julia wondered if she was.

He exited a few miles west of town, and her eyes jumped from dusty buildings to matchbox houses and service stations. Several miles later, she was mostly watching trees.

Cayne muttered something about being close. The car slowed. Julia chewed her cheeks as he turned onto a dirt road that twisted between rows of pines. The sun had all but vanished behind the great blue bags that filled the sky. Julia wondered if rain would be good or bad. Could Sam fly with wet wings?

Better question: Could Cayne really take him? She wondered about what he'd told her back in Memphis. About how Samyaza had caught him off guard. If they caught Sam off guard, would they come out on top? She didn't know any of those answers, and suddenly she felt like an idiot for not asking them sooner. Too late now.

Their path led to a squat wood building hidden behind a copse of pines. It had two shuddered windows and a steel door. Someone had painted it the same brown as the tree trunks around it. Definitely not inviting. Julia counted her breaths as Cayne parked in a pine straw circle about a dozen feet away.

He closed his eyes, and Julia thought she might have a heart attack while she waited for them to open. She blew out a hot breath when they finally did; they were sharp. Wary.

"He already left," Cayne said flatly, not looking at her. "Recently."

Julia was more relieved than disappointed. "So what now?"

"Something happened..."

"What?"

He shook his head as he opened his door. "You stay in the car."

"No way."

"I don't think you want--"

"I'm safer with you than by myself."

"Yeah," he said. "That's true, but I don't think you want to see what's in there."

Julia didn't have to guess at what he meant. And he was probably right. But she didn't care. She felt compelled to follow him.

She let her anger fill her up as she slid out of the car and followed Cayne's rigid form to the door. The wind blew her hair off her neck and sent a chill down her spine. Even with the breeze, there was a stillness in the air--the feeling that they were the only living people left on Earth. Julia wrapped her arms around herself. Cayne sniffed the air, following the doorframe like a cartoon bloodhound. He twisted the knob. It turned. He glanced at her, she nodded, and he swung the door open.

Julia knew when the foul air rushed to meet her that something bad had indeed happened. She could taste it on the roof her mouth. For one long moment, she thought of turning back. Going back to the car, turning on the radio, and pretending she was somewhere else. Then she noticed Cayne's eyes on her. Assessing. Careful. Like it mattered how she felt. Like she mattered.

So she followed him inside.

The entry hall was no larger than a closet. A bare bulb cast dirty light over four drab walls and a simple stone floor.

To Julia's surprise, Cayne's hand closed around hers, and they walked together down a long, narrow hall, her heart pounding in time with their footsteps. When they approached two wide, wood doors, spots of color bloomed behind her eyes.
Pain
. Lots of it.

Cayne placed a hand and an ear against one of the doors. He looked at her, his eyes offering one last chance. She almost took it.

"I'm staying," she whispered.

Carefully, quietly, and so slowly Julia thought she might faint from the tension, Cayne pushed one of the doors open, revealing a wide common room. And there, past the round ridge of his shoulder, Julia saw death. Everywhere, death. Bodies--naked, stained. A severed head lay beneath a tall-backed chair in one corner, brown hair matted by blood. Julia could see veins and tendons in the middle of a flapping circle of skin, and the neck bone, sticking out into the carpet. The body lay sprawled nearby, a gruesome gash where his kidneys would have been.

So much blood: painting the walls, staining the carpet. Men and women, young and old, missing hearts, limbs, intestines. And the parts, scattered about like so much garbage.

Julia stepped back and a spongy noise drew her eyes to her shoes. Blood pooled around her All-Stars. And next to her foot, a hand.

Her knees gave out, and Cayne's strong arms encircled her. He turned her into his chest. "Don't look."

His long fingers dug into her shoulders; the pain brought her down, so instead of floating, dizzy, Julia focused on the fabric of his shirt. She smelled him, that lovely blend of guy and grass, mixed with the blood and death.

Past his arm she saw what spun her world. The starburst, Julia's starburst, the crimson stain on the back of her neck. The armless woman by the table had an identical mark just under her collarbone.

Julia couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Seconds were hours, minutes days. From some still-functioning place inside her mind, she saw Cayne's brows clench, and she saw him lift his right hand.
Then he slapped her, a good, strong hit that echoed through the room. He grabbed her elbows to steady her. He whispered things like
look
and
listen
. She struggled to follow.

But she saw the mark on others. On a stomach that was sliced open. On an arm bent at a broken angle.

Her eyes jerked to the--
oh my God
--the head. The head that was lying on the floor. To the neck. Her imagination made it thinner, framed it with dark hair. Her hair. Any of these people could be her. And suddenly she knew why Cayne hadn't told her anything.

Because it was too horrible.

Her body jerked like a puppet's, wooden legs carrying her out into the hall.

"Cayne..." Her mouth snapped shut.

"I'm sorry." His arm came snug around her shoulders, pasting her to him. Making her safe. "We're leaving now. I shouldn't have--"

"My mark," she squeaked; even to her own ears it sounded pitiful. Julia cleared her throat and tried again. "They have my birthmark."

Cayne's thick arm tightened around her.

"Will you...?" Julia swallowed the bile that sloshed in her throat. "Will you check them? Will you look at all of them?"

He left her in the hall and returned some time later with blood on his hands. He had found the mark on two more. The last three were too slashed up for him to see.

He led her outside, and she waited by the door while he cleaned himself with a hose. When he was finished, they left.

Once they pulled off dirt and onto pavement, Julia's pulse stopped hammering. When she was able to breathe again, she ordered Cayne to pull over and stumbled out of the car. He tried to follow, but she yelled at him to stay put. She was not going to puke in front of him.

Ten minutes later, back in the van, things got better and worse. Her brain came back to life, and with it a whole lot of freak out.

"I want to know now. What does he want? What do I have in common with those people?"

Cayne seemed deep in thought, and Julia felt a bolt of anger.
"Aren't you going to say something?"

He hesitated. Julia knew it. After a week, she knew his mannerisms. Knew when he wasn't being open. A quick glance at his aura confirmed her suspicions: Cayne's silver was touched with brownish green.

"You're thinking about not telling me."

He said nothing, and she drew her knees to her chest. "Yeah, just keep not telling me, all right? Why don't you just keep it to yourself! So I'll be like that, and you won't be able to find my birthmark because my head's taken off!" Cayne's mouth opened, but nothing came out. "What the hell does he want with me? What's wrong with me? Tell me
now
."

But he didn't. He didn't say a word.

"I deserve to know."

Cayne sighed, and she waited. While he examined her. While he glanced out the window. While he sighed again.

Finally, quietly, so his voice barely rose above the hum of the engine, he said, "I didn't say anything--about anything--because I was...concerned."

"Concerned?" She hated the hitch in her voice. "About what?"

"How you would react when I told you the...whole truth."

Julia's stomach hit her toes. "So what is it?"

"I'm a half-demon." Cayne's eyes grabbed hers. "Like Sam."

Chapter 13

She'd heard him wrong. Obviously she had. Her trauma had turned into paranoia, which was manifesting itself as a hallucination. Julia looked at Cayne's familiar face--the sharp green eyes, those beautiful lips, the shaggy brown hair that hung down almost to his brow.

"I'm sorry but...
What
?"

His smile was tight. "Nephilim," he said. "You heard of them?"

"Like fallen angels?"

Cayne was looking intently at the road, which had widened as they neared a rural neighborhood. For a moment, his face seemed blank. Then she saw a flicker of tension near his mouth, but it was quickly snuffed out by a forced calm that matched his toneless voice. "We're the offspring of a human woman and a male demon."