Demonosity (21 page)

“Thomas,
please.
” She fumbled for the leather gauntlet and tried to tell her aching body that it couldn’t rest yet. Still, there was no sign of the owl, and three demons all raced toward her, fanning out to block her in.

Cassidy’s breath caught in her throat as she took her stance.

These demons had been fighting their entire lives. She’d been fighting for about two seconds. The first one lunged at her, and she used her shield to block it, scrambling out of the way as the second demon came lumbering toward her. But she was already panting. There was no way she could—

“You know,” a voice suddenly said from close by, “I’m pretty sure that Thomas would never have taught you that trick. He’s not nearly radical enough.”

“Travis?” Cassidy spun around just in time to see him thrusting a sword through one of the demons before pulling it out with a flourish. Gone were the jeans and casual T-shirt—today he was in full armor, which Cassidy was sure weighed more than she did. His dark curls were pushed back from his face, and there was a half smile pressed onto his mouth. Cassidy felt ill. It was one thing for Travis to be a demon. It was another thing entirely for her to have to fight him.

Travis raised his sword high above his head, no shield, just two hands so tight around the handle that she could see his knuckles through the thick gloves he was wearing. His dark eyes caught hers as slowly, almost carefully, he lowered the sword toward her. Then he coughed.

“Er, Cass, you might want to duck.”

Then, before she knew what was happening, he marched toward her, using his shoulder to nudge her out of the way just before another demon came charging over. In one fluid motion, he brought his sword crashing down on the creature’s chest, the force knocking it to the ground before Travis killed it with a direct cut through the heart.

Slowly, Cassidy realized the truth. Travis wasn’t
fighting
her; he was
helping
her.

Another demon came crashing toward her, and Cassidy scrambled to her feet, her fear now replaced by adrenaline as she lunged forward, catching the demon in wide-eyed surprise, killing him with one deft stroke. A moment later Travis had killed yet another with his dagger.

Without a word he dropped to his knees, a look of intense concentration on his beautiful face as he pulled out a lighter and set the bodies on fire. They both watched in silence as flames jumped and licked their way into the air before a backdraft sucked it all back in and they were left alone in the warehouse.

Cassidy didn’t want to look at Travis, but she couldn’t help herself. His face was smudged and glistening with sweat. Dressed like a knight, he suddenly seemed alien, but at the same time familiar. He’d also helped her.

“What are you doing here? They were demons. You’re a demon. Why would you do that?”

“Oh, come on, Cass, you don’t need to look
quite
so surprised,” Travis said in a wounded voice as he lifted his sword high in the air and let the flame from the lighter run the length of it, cleansing the dark, fetid demon blood that was coating it. Cassidy felt herself hypnotized by the flames, but once they flicked away, leaving the sword gleaming, she realized for the first time that Travis’s blade, like her own, was covered in runes.

“Hey.” She held up Thomas’s sword in surprise and studied the two blades. “These are the same.”

“Not exactly the same.” Travis lowered his so Cassidy could see a tiny inscription underneath the quillon.
So below.
A chill went racing through her as she forced herself to stare at the words on Thomas’s sword, engraved in the same hand.
As above.

“
As above. So below.
My father had quite a sense of humor, didn’t he?” Travis asked in a soft voice. “He still does.”

“Wh-what do you mean? I-I thought your father was dead.” Cassidy’s mind was now in turmoil, her eyes never leaving the identical swords.

“Non.”
Travis shook his head. “Baphomet, my true father, lives, but the man who raised me, he’s the one who is dead. Killed by my brother’s hand.”

“Brother? You have a brother?”
A brother who killed his father?
Cassidy felt as if the oxygen was being squeezed out of her lungs as her body began to shake. And he had said
non
instead of no. She stared at his sword as she willed the room to stop spinning. “It’s not possible.
You and Thomas?
Travis, please. Tell me it’s not true.”

“Sorry, Cass, I told you once before that I don’t lie. Not even for you,” Travis said, his soulful eyes never leaving her face. “Thomas and I are blood twins. He’s older than me by several minutes, though I think we can agree that, of the pair of us, I got the looks and the charm.”

Cassidy’s breath came out in a shallow gasp. “But how? It makes no sense. You’re a demon.”

“Oui.”
Travis gave a slow nod of his beautiful head. “And what runs through my veins runs through his.
As above. So below
. I’m guessing by the shocked look on your face, my brother dear has done more than forgotten to show up for today’s fight. He’s forgotten to mention that he’s the demon knight who killed his own father.”

B
roken bodies everywhere. Lying in the streets, hanging out of windows. Fire and smoke in the air. And blood. So much blood. Dripping from Cassidy’s hands as if it would never stop. She screamed and tried to wipe it off, but the more she scrubbed, the more blood there seemed to be. Then she looked up to see swirling amber eyes staring at her through the dark. They were angry. They were condemning. They were begging, like she knew they would. In the distance was a voice. Pick me. Me, me, me—

Cassidy gasped as she woke with a start, half expecting to see herself surrounded by carnage and demons, but instead, the faint morning sun was pushing in through her curtains and bouncing off the floorboards, turning them a luscious honey color, while the apricot and green trim of her room radiated tranquillity and calm. Over on her desk the grimoire sat, still open to the page Nash had been reading last night, looking for information on Baphomet. However, there was no glow coming from it, and Cassidy realized that it had all been a dream. A really, really bad dream.

Though not nearly as bad as yesterday had been.

After telling her about Thomas, Travis had obviously decided that, as with good comedy, timing was everything, and he’d made a hasty retreat, leaving her to think about his revelations. And she would probably still be there now if Nash hadn’t found her and taken her home, where she had spent the night letting it play out in her mind.

Thomas was a demon knight. Thomas had killed his father. If Travis truly never lied, then what he’d said was true, and—

“Good, you’re awake.” Nash appeared in the doorway. Today he was wearing a pair of dark blue Levi’s and a neat, buttoned-up black shirt. And he seemed unusually jumpy as he sat down on the floor and began to pull book after book out of his army satchel. “So? Have you spoken to him yet?”

“Of course I haven’t.” Cassidy joined him and hugged her knees. “I’m never speaking to him again.”

“Why not?” Nash frowned. “You spoke to Travis again, and he’s a demon knight. We know that not all demons are bad—”

“Yes, and we also know that not all demons are good,” Cassidy reminded him. She appreciated that what Nash said was true, but it didn’t change her mind. Thomas should have told her what he was.
And what he’d done
. “You can stop looking at me like that. I’ll still protect Celeste as best I can, but that doesn’t mean I have to talk to him.”

“Actually”—Nash began to fiddle with the books he’d brought with him—“it sort of does. You see, I’ve been doing some research on Baphomet. Travis was right when he said that not all demons were bad. Turns out his father was sworn to protect the Black Rose from the other Demon Lords. And there’re some things you should know.”

Cassidy found herself leaning forward, not sure she wanted to know but unable to resist. “Like what?”

“A lot of it is just conjecture. He’s a demon idol that Philip the Fair accused the Templar Knights of worshipping, though most historians seem to think that Phillip was just trying to get his mitts on their extensive fortune, since his own wealth was—”

“Nash,” Cassidy said, to remind him to keep on point.

“Sorry. So what I did find out was that after the Black Rose was brought back from the Crusades, there was an incident that nearly burned Paris to the ground. I think you saw some of that through your connection with Thomas.”

“Yes.” Cassidy closed her eyes as the memory of the charcoaled bodies and screams crashed into her mind.

“After that, the Brotherhood of the Black Rose was formed. Knights whose sole duty it was to protect the Black Rose from alchemists, adventurers . . . and demons. However, as you’ve discovered, fighting demons is tough work, especially when you don’t have a specially made rune sword or a grimoire, so Baphomet sent his twin sons to join the Brotherhood, knowing that their strength and power would help protect the Black Rose.”

“How old were they?” Cassidy whispered as Travis’s words came back to her, about how she’d always a choice but he never had.

“Six,” Nash said in a soft voice. “No one but their foster father, Hugh de la Croix, knew the truth about them.”

“And their mother?” There was a lump in Cassidy’s throat.

“From what I can tell, she was human, but she died giving birth to them. Here, I found a sketch of her,” Nash said as he opened up one of the old books that he’d brought with him and carefully passed it to her. Cassidy gulped as she studied the page. It was a pen-and-ink sketch of a woman’s face.

She had Travis’s gloriously warm, open smile, but the artist had shaded the eyes differently: one dark, one light. Then she glanced at her neck, where a familiar-looking crystal was hanging.

“Travis gave me his mother’s necklace,” Cassidy gasped.

“No wonder Thomas freaked out when he saw it,” he said as Cassidy pushed the book away.

“Sorry, Nash, I know you like history, but trying to make me feel sorry for two demon knights isn’t going to work. Yes, it sucks what happened to them, but it’s not my problem. Like I said, I will protect Celeste as best I can, but don’t think I’m going to talk to either of them again.”

“Cass, that’s not all I found. Do you remember that dream you had? About the feather that was split in two?”

“Yes.” She looked at him surprise. “Why? Do you know what it means?”

“I think so.” Nash picked up the book that she had just pushed away and turned to another page. “This is what I actually came around to show you. It’s a prophecy about the demon twins. I think you should read it.”

The twin sons of Baphomet shall both seek the Black Rose when it is lost in time. Both will find it, but only one will succeed. Their fate shall be decided on the shortest day when the sun is gone by she who chooses. If the right twin receives it, the earth shall prosper, and Baphomet shall smile. If the wrong twin receives it, Baphomet shall weep, and crimson blood shall forever stain the scorched earth.

Cassidy was silent as she shut the book and thought of the voice that had been echoing in her mind for the last few weeks.
Pick me. Pick me.
She could tell by the tight line of Nash’s jaw that the girl in the prophecy was her. And if it was true, it meant that one of the twins was good and one was bad. The only problem was, she didn’t have a clue which was which.

An hour later Cassidy walked Nash to the front door and hugged him. “Are you sure that you don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” Nash gave a supportive shake of his head. They’d decided that in order to avoid having to follow Celeste all over town, Nash would go over and read lines with her to stop her from leaving the safety of her house.
In other words, he was taking a bullet.

“Liar.” She mustered a smile before squeezing his hand. “But thank you anyway. I don’t think I could face any following or fighting today.”

Nash’s lips twitched. “Okay, so hanging out with Celeste for the day isn’t top of my list, but then again, seeing you get pulled in all directions isn’t much fun, either. Besides, I said I’d do anything I could to help, and I meant it. And in return you need to promise to try not to drive yourself crazy with this.”

“I won’t,” she promised, even though they both knew she was lying. Because seriously, how could she ever figure out which brother was good and which was bad? The way she was feeling, both of them were bad.

Once Nash had gone, she wandered back down the hallway. She could hear her mom puttering in the kitchen and was just about to slip past when her dad’s head appeared in the doorway.

“Ah, there you are. I was starting to think that you’d run away and joined the traveling circus,” her dad quipped as Cassidy widened her eyes.

“Dad, what are you doing? I thought it was Mom in here.”

“And if you can’t tell the difference between the delicious smell of my waffles and the store-bought ones that your mom uses, then I’m deeply offended,” he informed her as he leaned against the counter to stay steady. “Unless, of course, you don’t want my waffles.”

“Are you crazy? I love them. You used to make them every time I was”—she let out a groan— “
upset.
Every time I was upset you would say that ‘misery loves waffles,’ which must mean that you’re worried about me. Is this because of Travis?”

“Actually, your mom was worried. She said you tried to talk to her, and she wasn’t much help. I guess she’s feeling guilty that she doesn’t know the right things to say.”

“Yeah? So why isn’t she here making me waffles then?” Cassidy wanted to know, and immediately regretted it when her dad’s face darkened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” she hastily added.

“Try to give her a break. I know you’re still mad at her for going to Boston—”

“She left for
five
years
, Dad, and now she comes back.”

For a moment her dad paused. “Cass, there’s something you should know. Your mom never wanted to go to Boston. But there were things going on that she felt she needed to help out with.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassidy wrinkled her nose.

“Remember when your mom’s pop died and there was all that talk about his mismanaging some funds?”

“Yes, but it was just a mistake; it blew over in a week.”

He shook his head. “It blew over in the
media
in a week. And it wasn’t shareholder funds, it was pension funds. The life savings of ordinary workers. Your mom’s spent the last five years trying to get those people their money back, and the job still isn’t done.”

“What?” Cassidy stared at him for a moment, as if he’d just told her that polar bears were pink or that Elvis was still alive. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“There was no particular reason. It certainly wasn’t a conspiracy. At first you were too young, and then you were too mad and your mom didn’t want to use it as an excuse. She still doesn’t. I’m just telling you because I think you should know. She’s not as bad as you think she is.” Then, without warning, he suddenly shrugged his shoulders. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened with Travis?”

For a moment she stared at him blankly as she tried to think of her mom as doing some cool, noble thing, but then, with the mention of Travis, her more immediate problems came crashing back into her mind.

“I wish I could.” Cassidy used her fingertip to draw a circle on the bench she was sitting on. “He just wasn’t who I thought he was.”
Neither was his brother.
“And no matter how much I want it to be different, it’s impossible. Does that make sense to you?”

“I’m afraid it does.” Her dad nodded before limping over to give her a hug. Then when he finally broke away, he shot her a weak smile. “Now, about those waffles . . .”