Demonosity (25 page)

“W
ow, this is so beautiful.” Celeste let out a happy sigh as Cassidy and Nash exchanged bemused glances. They were tramping through the woods in the dying light of the day, and so far Celeste had caught her dress three times on the low-lying scrub, but she didn’t even seem to notice. Nash obviously hadn’t been exaggerating the effects of the spell on her. Still, Cassidy was almost jealous as her own stomach churned with anxiety. She could tell by the way Nash was studiously avoiding the question that he was worried, too.

None of it was helped by a certain eeriness that clung all around them as the sun, after not showing up all day, now tried to push bright, almost overpowering, fingers of pale pink light through the trees. Cassidy tried not to look at it as they hurried toward the clearing, stopping only when Celeste wanted to admire a mushroom and a broken twig.

Finally, they arrived and Nash opened up the grimoire before spreading out the numerous things that he’d brought with him in his satchel.

“Pretty.” Celeste let out a gasp of joy. “Look at my arm. It’s shining like the sun. So gorgeous.”

“Are you sure that spell you did on her is okay?” Cassidy looked at Nash in alarm, but he quickly nodded his head.

“Yes, but I don’t think she’s hallucinating, I think she’s actually seeing the Black Rose the way you do. My guess is that it’s happening because it’s so close to the solstice,” he explained, but before Cassidy could answer, the owl appeared, and a second later Travis wandered in, looking more gorgeous than ever in pair of dark jeans and a soft knitted sweater that covered his scarred, broken torso.

“Hey, Cass. Nash.” He nodded to them both before turning to the owl. “And Thomas. I’m guessing that you’re here to change her mind. Can’t you accept that this is Cassidy’s choice?”

“This isn’t about choice: it’s about doing what’s right,” Thomas said as the owl disappeared and suddenly he was standing there, once again in the dark brown, coarse woolen shirt, his face the color of fresh snow. “And I am here to see it through to the end. Whatever the outcome.”

“Oh, he’s cute.” Celeste looked up from studying her glowing arm to where the apparition of Thomas was standing. “Not as cute as Nash, of course, but he has a Sam Worthington thing going on.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “By the way, who is he?”

“That’s Thomas. He’s Travis’s brother,” Nash said as he glanced at his watch and then shot Cassidy a concerned look. “Ten minutes until the solstice.”

“Really?” Celeste asked in surprise. “So why can’t I understand a word he’s saying? It’s like he’s speaking French or something—but weird French. And look what he’s wearing. Was he an extra in the play?”

“It’s complicated,” Nash said in a patient voice, obviously not wanting to go into the whole grimoire thing that allowed both her and Nash to understand what Thomas was saying. Then Cassidy frowned for a moment as she turned to Travis.

“Actually, Celeste is right. I can understand Thomas because of the grimoire, but there’s still no hiding that he’s from the fourteenth century. But why don’t you sound like that? I mean, you talk like more of a modern teenager than Nash does.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Nash protested. “But Cassidy does have a point.”

“My magic is strong. Stronger than that which my brother uses. That is how I could come forward in time. It’s also why I know how to speak and dress correctly. And text . . .” He turned to Thomas and held up his cell phone, his face intrigued. “Twin, if you were here, you would love these things. They’re like nothing we’ve ever seen before.”

But when Thomas didn’t answer, Travis just shrugged and put his cell phone back into his pocket.

“Sorry, Cass.” Nash tapped his watch. “We’ve only got five minutes to go. Do you remember everything you need to do?”

She nodded as she gently touched Celeste’s arm. “Hey, Celeste, do you want to lie down now? I think you’re getting sleepy.”

“Okay.” Celeste nodded happily, not even looking at the soft dirt and leaves below her. Once Celeste was settled, Cassidy took a deep breath and looked around her. Next to her was Nash, his generous, clever face focused solely on her. She smiled. Then she turned to Travis. Beautiful Travis, who lived in pain and wore his scars under his shirt. When he realized she was looking at him, he grinned at her, his smile full of warmth and sunshine despite the weather. And finally, she turned to Thomas.

Silence greeted her.

The strange sinking sun pushed pinky blue rays straight through his there-but-not-there body, but despite the odd illusion, she still felt that if she were to step outside the circle he would be flesh under her fingers. Would this have been different if he had been really here? If she could’ve touched him.
If he could’ve touched her?

Cassidy shook the question from her mind as she thought of her conversation with her mom, who’d been forced to make a painful decision, sacrificing her family so that she didn’t feel like she had blood on her hands. Cassidy was doing the same. She was sacrificing Thomas for—

She froze.

Blood.

She stared at her hands as she felt the breath catching in her lungs. Blood. Suddenly, she turned to Travis and tried to ignore her pounding heart.

“You promised me that you don’t lie, so I need you to answer a question for me. Where did you get the blood from?”

Suddenly, Travis was deathly still, and even Nash gasped. Thomas just stood there, unflinching and silent. Cassidy persisted. “When I first met Thomas, he told me that he couldn’t come forward in time because it took blood magic. His entire life is all about duty to the Black Rose. I saw him walk away from his dying foster father, whom I know he loved, just to protect it, but despite everything, he refused to use blood magic. So I’m asking you, Travis, where did you get the blood from? D-did you kill someone?”

For a moment Travis clenched his jaw, making him look, ironically enough, like his brother for the first time. Then he slowly nodded his head. “
Oui
, I have killed men before. But Cass, you don’t understand how much it hurts. The pain. I-I need to fix it.”

Cassidy dropped to her knees, horror pounding in her ears, blocking everything out. “How many?”

“I . . . I don’t know how many. But this doesn’t change anything. I am still me. I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not lying now. The Black Rose can help people. You must believe me. Its essence can save. It can heal. It can transform.”

“The worst thing is that I do believe you,” she said in a soft voice. “But I also know that you did lie to me once.”

“Never.”

“Yes, you told me that you didn’t have a choice. That you were born a demon. But you did have a choice, Travis. You and Thomas both had a choice. And yours was to take a path where he couldn’t follow.”

“What?” Travis’s voice was hollow.

“I know all about making choices. I can spend more time trying to pick a pair of shoes than most people take to buy a house or plan a vacation. But I also know that you need to live by your choices.”

“Are you saying that you’re not going to give it to me?” Travis asked, color leaching from his face. Cassidy felt a sickness in the hollow of her stomach. If she turned her back on Travis, she was turning her back on her father. But was her father’s life worth someone else’s blood? Would her hands ever be clean if she did this? Tears poured down her face.

Pick me, me, me
, the voice continued to whisper as the tattoo on her arm hummed with energy. She didn’t need Nash to tell her that solstice was almost here.

“I’m saying that it shouldn’t have to be this hard,” she sobbed.

“No.” Travis raced forward, but this time it wasn’t Thomas who hauled him back, it was some kind of invisible force, and he fell into a heap on the ground.

“Hey.” Nash widened his eyes. “It worked. I was experimenting with a ritual to make sure that Cassidy was safe while she was performing it.”

“Cassidy, no.” Travis jumped to his feet, and this time he raced toward Nash. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if you don’t give me the Black Rose. Can’t you understand how much I need it?”

“Nash!” Cassidy screamed. She scrambled to her feet to race out of the circle, but before she could, the owl launched itself at Travis with such ferocity that he fell backward. He let out a shout of pain as some kind of invisible rope seemed to be holding him back. An instant later Thomas reappeared, his fierce, unwavering face pale but determined.

“The Brotherhood is using their magic to hold him. Not blood magic, earth magic. You can continue with the ritual—” Then he paused and bowed his head before her. “And you can choose as you will.”

Hysteria rose up in her chest, while Celeste, who was still lying down, eyes closed and a smile on her face, was oblivious to all the drama. The irony was that she probably would’ve loved it. The pink rays of the sun spread out across the clearing as Cassidy repeated the ritual Nash had taught her, prompted by the grimoire, which was glowing like a beacon thanks to Travis’s presence.

Then she watched as a sliver of pure white energy rose up from Celeste’s body and formed a perfectly shaped rose. Cassidy’s hysteria was replaced by euphoria as the essence enveloped her in its majesty. Everyone gasped, even Travis, who was still tethered to the ground by unseen binding.

The tattoo on her arm tingled in recognition, reminding her of her father. Not dying in a coma, but as he normally was. Happy, hopeful, strong. Then Nash tapped his watch to let her know it was almost time for her to decide. She stared at the shimmering essence that was blossoming up around Celeste’s body.

How could it look so pure when it had caused so much pain? It had killed people. Divided brothers. Then she froze. If Cassidy released it to either brother, it would start all over again. And even if she wasn’t the one fighting demons, someone else would be. Perhaps someone else would become a vessel and his or her life would be in danger. It was too much. She didn’t want Travis to be in constant pain. Or Thomas to be bound by his duty. But most of all, she didn’t want her father to die.

And yet if she chose any of them, someone else would suffer. She just wanted it to stop.

Me.
The familiar voice called out to her.
Pick me, me, me.

Her tattoo pulsed on her arm, but this time, instead of blocking it out, she let the voice wash over her again and again until she finally heard it. Of course! It didn’t belong to Travis
or
Thomas. It belonged to someone else. Actually, it belonged to
something
else.

It belonged to the Black Rose itself. Her tattoo resonated in agreement, and suddenly her choice was clear. Regardless of what happened, she had to choose the Black Rose. It could decide its own fate.

So as the last of the pale rays of light sank down, marking the solstice, Cassidy lifted her hand up and gently touched the pulsing essence in front of her. Suddenly, all the joy she had been feeling was amplified as the Black Rose exploded into a thousand tiny shards, flying out in all directions like a firework. In the distance she could hear Travis, Thomas, and Nash all screaming at her, begging her to stop. But she ignored them as she continued to release the essence, which had been trapped for so long. And just before she passed out into the welcoming darkness, she heard the voice one more time.

I’m free. Thank you.

“C
ass, you’ve got to wake up,” Nash’s voice said from somewhere in the distance, but she tried to ignore it as she floated on a soft breeze of nothingness. “Cass,” he said again. This time he was louder, closer. His hand was shaking her arm, forcing her to leave behind the nothingness and reluctantly open her eyes, her mind still full of fog. “How do you feel?”

“I-I don’t know.” She gingerly wriggled into a sitting position and looked around her. That’s right. She was in the woods. The clearing was dark now, lit only by the flashlight Nash had thought to bring. Somewhere behind her she could hear Celeste squealing in excitement at what sounded like a toad, but there was no sign of Travis or Thomas. “Wh-what happened?”

“Don’t you remember?” Nash asked, his voice gentle as his arms wrapped around her in a soft hug.

“No.” She tried to shake her head but was met by a wall of pain, and so she sat perfectly still until the fog and pain receded and the memories trickled through. “Yes, I was doing the ritual, and the Black Rose appeared. It was beautiful.
Alive.
Amazing. It asked me to free it, and so I touched it. I made my choice and released—”

Her dad.

The euphoria she had been feeling was gone, replaced by horror as the reality of her decision pressed against her chest. She had thought she was doing the right thing, but now as the freezing December air clawed at her skin, she realized the price she had paid. She had set the Black Rose free at the expense of her father.

A low moan escaped her lips. What had she done? She struggled to her feet, ignoring the nausea that was threatening to overtake her, but Nash pulled her back down.

“Hey, whoa. No fast movements. Cass, just sit still.”

“I can’t.” She wriggled to break his hold on her but whatever strength she had from the grimoire was gone now, proof that the Black Rose really was gone. “Please, you don’t understand.”

“Yes I do,” he insisted. “You need to sit still so that you can contact your mom. She just called from the hospital, and trust me, you’re going to want to speak to her.”

Cassidy stopped fighting him and realized that his beautiful porcelain face wasn’t filled with pain or sadness. He was smiling. A wave of confusion swept through her.

“Nash, what’s going on? I let the Black Rose go free. The doctors said that there was nothing they could do for my dad, and since I didn’t do anything for him—”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” He pressed a cell phone into her hand. “Call her. She has something really exciting that she wants to tell you.”

“He’s alive,” Cassidy said for the hundredth time as she sat on the log in the clearing. Whatever trip Celeste had been on was now over and she was curled up in Nash’s coat, sleeping on a blanket at their feet. Cassidy’s call to her mom had lasted for over half an hour, and despite how many times she had asked her, the news had been the same each time. Her dad had come out of his coma, and there was no sign of the clot, which had been so close to ending his life. They were going to run some more tests tomorrow, but the doctors seemed as baffled as everyone about it. She turned to Nash, her happiness competing with confusion. “Do you really think it was the Black Rose?”

“Not that I’m doubting the wonders of modern medicine, but I really do,” Nash said as he turned the pages of the grimoire. “There is nothing in here to suggest it, but then a bunch of medieval knights who are trained to fight demons probably aren’t going to consider if an immortal essence deserved free will or not. Perhaps they all experienced the same voices you did and they just ignored them? It is truly most extraordinary.”

“Yes, but that still doesn’t explain why it would heal my dad.”

“Perhaps Travis was right?” Nash flicked his Zippo, as was his habit when he was thinking. “He believed that the Black Rose was capable of great healing, and when you touched it, it could probably see what your greatest hopes were.”

“You think it read my mind and knew I wanted my dad to be better?” Cassidy widened her eyes.

“It makes sense. You were the first person in centuries to listen to it and find out what it actually wanted, so why shouldn’t it repay you? I guess the thing we need to figure out is what else you were thinking about when you released the Black Rose and—”

“That’s a question I would like to ask, too,” a deep voice said as a young guy stalked into the clearing, the flashlight that was propped up on the ground creating eerie shadows on his familiar scar-crossed face. “Starting with the fact that one moment I was in a stable in Saint-Malo and now I’m, well, I don’t know where I am.”

“Thomas?” Cassidy let out a strangled cry and was up on her feet, running toward him, disregarding the darkness and any obstacles between then. Her heart hammered in her chest as she finally reached him. Then she caught her breath in awe. She had been wrong to think that the apparition of Thomas had been real, because now, as he stood before her, she understood that what she’d seen before was merely a faint, undefined shadow of the real Thomas.

Up close he was taller, his muscles broader, and the skin around his badly scarred face so much softer than she ever expected it would be. She also felt infinitely drawn to him in a way that she would never be able to explain.

“Cassidy, I’m waiting,” he growled, his mismatched eyes flashing with anger. “What did you do? Where the hell am I?”

But instead of flinching, Cassidy just grinned as she lifted up onto her toes so that she could gently touch the outline of his scar. Then she leaned in and gave him the softest of kisses. “You’re here, Thomas. With me.”