The Order Boxed Set (16 page)

“I didn’t. Well, the man I was never left that cell. After three years, the church sentenced me to death. I was to be burned at the stake as an emissary of Satan. I remember thinking I liked the irony of it. The night before I was to die, I had a visitor. He said he could free me, give me a new life, immortality if I wanted it. I answered that I didn’t want a new life and immortality at that point seemed a burden rather than a prize, but he told me I would be fighting demons. He belonged to a group that protected the Earth, and I could be part of that. I could hunt down the killers of my family, and all I needed to relinquish was my mortal life and my soul. At that point, I wasn’t even sure I had a soul worth saving. So I agreed, and received the vampire’s kiss.”

“So the one who approached you was from the Order?”

He nodded. “He was the head of the Order of the Shadow Accords.”

“Did you manage to get the demon that killed your family?”

“We’ve had a couple of run-ins. I’ve beaten him once or twice, but you can’t destroy one of the seven forever, at least not here on earth. You can kill the body but they just re-manifest in the Abyss.”

“You must really hate demons.”

He cast her a look she didn’t quite understand. “I did. For a long time, I hunted them and destroyed them when I could, but I found that all hatred runs out in the end. So after the last wars, I left the Order.”

“But you’re back there now.”

“I wouldn’t be, but it seems that Asmodai is back, and he’s after me.”

She frowned. “You personally?”

“He’s picking off agents close to me.”

“Why should he do that?”

Christian shrugged. “I was in charge of the Order during the last wars when he was banished back to the Abyss. It’s unusual for a demon to bear a grudge—unlike the fae—but for some reason, it’s gotten personal for him. It’s always been personal to me.”

“What were they like, your wife and daughters?”

“It’s so long ago that I can hardly recall their faces. Things were different back then. I liked and respected Elizabeth but love was not a part of our marriage. It was arranged, as was the way at the time. My daughters were different, I loved them, but they were young, I barely saw them.”

…

Her eyes filled with compassion for a five-hundred-year-old wound that had healed long ago. But as Christian watched, her expression changed. A grim determination settled on her face, and he knew what was coming.

“So,” Tara said, “are you going to tell me what you saw? What you tasted?”

He could see the anxiety in her eyes, and he didn’t know how to tell her. She wanted so much to have a normal life, and he was about to put an end to her hopes forever. He opened his mouth to speak, and his cell phone rang.

Christian put her gently from him and swung around to sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled the phone from his pants pocket and flicked it open. It was Piers.

“We have a meeting with the fae.”

“When?” Christian asked.

“Tomorrow, midnight.”

“How melodramatic. You found them?”

“I didn’t need to in the end. They came to us. Apparently they have something they want us to do.”

“Any idea what?”

“No, but it’s connected to you somehow. They’re insisting you’re present at the meeting.”

“Insisting? Since when have the fae had the right to demand anything of the Order?”

“Actually, I didn’t argue very hard. I thought it might be a good idea if you’re present.”

“Why?”

“Me and the fae don’t exactly hit it off. It might be a good idea to have you there as a buffer.”

Christian sighed, but he realized Piers was right. Diplomacy had never been Piers’s strong point and with the demons up to something, it was probably best not to rile the fae any more than necessary. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

He broke the connection. “We have to leave,” he said to Tara.

“We’re going back to London?”

“Yes, I have a meeting tomorrow night.” He pulled on his clothes as he spoke but was aware that Tara watched him through narrowed eyes.

“So, are we going to talk about what’s going on here?”

“I think it might be better if we wait until we’re back in town. Give me a little time to think it over. I don’t want to tell you something now, get you all riled up, and just have to take it all back later.”

He knew from her fixed expression that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Chapter Fifteen

Christian reached out and ran a hand through her hair.

Tara knew he meant it to be soothing. Instead, the caress made her scalp prickle. She gritted her teeth. He was lying. He knew something, and he wasn’t telling her.

All her life her aunt had told her, “listen to me,” “I know best,” and Tara had listened, believing she’d had her best interests at heart. Look how well that had turned out.

Crap! That was how it had turned out.

Her aunt had died—or did whatever it was that reanimated corpses did—leaving Tara alone, without a clue. Why couldn’t she have told her before it was too late instead of leaving her to blunder on in total ignorance.

Now, here was someone else expecting that just because she cared about him, she would quite happily do whatever he said and not ask any awkward questions.

Not going to happen.

He waited for her answer, but obviously so confident that she would go along with anything he asked.

She had run the gamut of emotions tonight. She’d been worried, wildly excited, scared. Now the first flicker of a deep-rooted anger rippled through her. It felt good. It had been part of her life for so long, simmering under the surface. She’d tried to suppress it, but it had grown, feeding on all the things that stood in her way. Her breathing slowed until she took long deep breaths, and with each intake of air, her anger intensified. She opened her eyes and smiled. Yeah, she was pissed—well and truly pissed. He didn’t want to get her riled? Well, it was too damn late!

“I’m not going anywhere.” Surprise flickered across his face, and a wave of savage satisfaction ran through her. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.”

“We’re going back to London. Now.”

“
You
might be going back to London, but until you tell me what’s going on, I’m staying here. And unless you want to force me, you’re going to have to live with that.”

For a moment, he studied her as though he seriously considered the force thing. He eyed the distance between them, but Tara stood her ground. Finally, he relaxed and nodded.

“Okay, get dressed. I’ll make you a coffee, and see you in the kitchen.” He left the room and closed the door behind him.

As soon as he agreed with her demand, Tara wished she could retract it. She stared at the closed door, wanting to call him back.

She dressed slowly, repacked her bag, and carried it down to the kitchen. She put it by the back door, and took a seat opposite Christian. He pushed a mug across to her. Picking it up, she held it close to her nose and breathed in the aromatic scent of the coffee. She took a sip, it was scalding hot, and she put the mug back down.

“Is it so bad you can’t tell me?” she asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “What is it you want to know?”

“The spells around the house and the talisman, what are they hiding?”

“They’re hiding you.”

It wasn’t the answer she had been expecting, though maybe she should have been. The spells around the house might have had some other purpose, but the talisman could have only ever have been for her.

“Why, what’s so special about me? I’m just ordinary. Aren’t I?”

His eyes wandered down over her. “No, there’s nothing ordinary about you.”

A shiver ran through her. “I’d really like to believe you meant that in a good way. But you don’t, do you?”

Shoving his chair back from the table, he rose to his feet. He thrust his hands in his pockets, cocked his head to one side, and considered her.

“Neither good, nor bad. We are what we are. I’ve had a long time to accept this, and still sometimes, I wonder if I should exist at all. But perhaps that’s something you still have to learn.”

“Of course that might be easier if I knew what it is I’m supposed to be accepting. What am I?”

“When I said I wasn’t entirely sure, I was telling the truth.”

She gritted her teeth. “Then tell me what you think.”

“You have demon blood.”

For a brief moment, she presumed she’d misheard him. Her gaze shot to his face. He appeared deadly serious, and she took a deep breath. She could cope with this. Couldn’t she?

“Explain exactly what you mean by ‘have demon blood.’”

“You’re part demon.”

“Which part? Forget that question.” She picked up her coffee and drank it slowly. Her mind flashed back to those things that had attacked her in the alley that night. The red skin and yellow inhuman eyes. “You mean I’m part one of those things that attacked me.”

“Perhaps, but there are lots of different demons.”

She scrutinized her hand still holding the mug of coffee. Her flesh was pale, creamy, not red. “I can’t be part of one of those. I don’t look anything like them.”

“Not all demons are the same. Those were lesser demons. Some—the more powerful ones—can almost pass for human.”

“You hate demons. They killed your family.” Her eyes stung and her throat clogged. She’d told herself she could cope with anything and now it seemed like she’d been lying to herself. She blinked away a tear, but another spilled over her lashes.

Christian sank into the chair beside her. He swiped the pad of his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the moisture. He uncurled her fingers from the empty cup and put it on the table, but kept hold of her hand, stroking across her palm. “I don’t hate you.”

How could he not? Demons had murdered his family, were even now murdering his friends. More tears spilled over and this time she didn’t try to stop them.

“Sorry, I made you tell me this and now I’m being all pathetic.” She rubbed her hand across her eyes. “I’m all right now, honest. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not that. I don’t want to be a demon.”

He tugged her toward him, picked her up, and sat her on his lap. She turned her head into his chest, her hand clinging to the soft, slippery silk of his shirt. Leaning back in the chair, he let her cry. She wasn’t used to crying—she hadn’t cried after Aunt Kathy’s death. Now she let herself go.

He stroked her hair. “You’re not a demon. You just have some demon blood. I’m not even sure how much. Maybe it’s just a tiny little drop.”

She sat up and wiped her face. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, aren’t you?” He nodded and she almost smiled. “So how much of a demon am I?”

“I’d say half.”

“So was my mother a demon?”

“I don’t think so. From what we were told at the bar, it sounds unlikely. There are female demons, but I’ve never heard one described as beautiful before.”

A little ray of hope glimmered in her brain. “So I’m at least half human?”

He remained silent, and she twisted round so she could see into his face. “Just how human am I? If I’m half-demon and not half-human what else can I be?”

“I’m not sure, but at a guess, I’d say you have fae blood.”

“Fae as in fairy?”

He nodded and put his face close to the curve of her neck. “You smell sweet and you taste even sweeter. I’ve never drunk fae blood, but I’ve smelled them before, and you smell of fae. ”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Forget the fae bit for a moment, but I’m part demon. I bet I taste disgusting.”

“Actually, vampires love demon blood.”

“They do?”

“We find it intoxicating.” He licked her neck. “We can’t get enough—it’s like a drug to us. Yours is even better, bitter mixed with sweet. You’re unique.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to be unique. I want to be normal.” She slid off his lap and sank back onto her own chair. She needed a clear head. “I don’t understand how I can be what you say yet feel like a human. What makes a demon a demon, or a fae a fae?” She frowned. “I’m too small to be a demon.”

Her talisman was still on the table where she had placed it earlier. Now she reached across and picked it up, dangling it from her finger. She lifted the chain over her head and settled the heart against her chest. A sense of containment washed over her and for a moment, she had to fight the urge to remove it again.

“I don’t look like a demon. I don’t feel like a demon. What’s to stop me forgetting all this and just getting on with my life?”

“You don’t think it’s going to be that simple, do you?”

“I don’t see why not. If I hadn’t decided to investigate in the first place, I wouldn’t know any of this. What if I’d never come to you? For that matter, even if I’d gone to another private investigator, I’d probably never have found all this out.”

“So, if you’d never met me, you would still have the chance at that nice, normal life you want so much.” For the first time, she heard a thread of anger in his voice. “Come on, Tara, accept it, that was never going to happen.”

“If I keep the talisman on, I can stay hidden, get on with my life.”

He cast her an exasperated glare. “There’s more going on here.”

“There is?”

“Do you really believe it was coincidence that you turned up at my office? You needed a private investigator, and you end up picking the one agency in the country with ties to the supernatural community. I don’t think so.”

“Coincidences happen.”

“Why do you think your mother went to so much trouble to hide you? Magic like this doesn’t come cheap and chances are she paid for it with her life.”

Tara’s mind whirled in circles, searching for a way out. “If my mother did go to that trouble, and if she did die for it, perhaps I need to honor that and stay hidden.”

“It’s too late for that. There were already people hunting for you here.”

“We don’t know they were looking for me.”

“You took off the talisman and a day later strangers appear here asking questions. Do you think the two things are unrelated? And do you think they’ve stopped searching?”

“Yes, but I did take it off. They came, they couldn’t find me, and it’s been months. If I keep it on, maybe they’ll never find me.”