Demon's Bride (36 page)

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Authors: Zoe Archer

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BOOK: Demon's Bride
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“Help him,” Leo shouted to Livia. Out of all of them, the ghost possessed the most power.
Yet Livia only shook her head as she hovered near. “Were my strength not so diminished, even then I could do nothing. I’ve no authority over life and death.”
“He’s not dying,” Whit insisted.
“And you ... call yourself a ... gambler,” gasped Edmund. “Terrible at ... bluffing.”
“I’ll fetch a surgeon.” Leo started to rise, but Edmund gripped his hand with surprising strength.
“Give me this ... one favor.”
“Anything.”
Edmund fumbled weakly to pull his shirt up from his breeches. Helping him, Leo tugged on the fabric when his friend’s strength failed.
“On my ... right hip,” Edmund whispered.
Leo examined his hip. “You are not wounded.”
“And the ... marks?”
He saw only pale flesh. “If they were there, they have gone now.” Edmund’s sacrifice had done that, restored his soul.
A small smile appeared on Edmund’s mouth. “She is ... free. Make certain ... she is ... cared for.”
“I swear it.”
“And I,” added Whit.
“Tell her I ...” Edmund’s words trailed off, and his chest went motionless. His hand fell away from Leo’s, lying on the blood-slick cobblestones, the wedding band on his finger gleaming dully.
Only when he had closed his friend’s sightless eyes did Leo surge to his feet. John stared back at him, his expression tight. Bram was a dark, motionless figure, his face wreathed in shadows.
“You damned coward,” snarled Leo. He hardly believed what had just happened. Only a few weeks ago, they had all sat around his table, taking a meal together. And now Edmund lay dead in the street, murdered by his friend.
“I take all threats seriously,” said John.
“He was no damned threat to you.” Leo’s hands were wet with Edmund’s blood.

Everyone
is a threat. Especially you.”
Leo dove for Edmund’s sword. He hadn’t training in the weapon, but the need for retaliation would make him a quick study. All that mattered was avenging Edmund.
Seeing the fury in Leo’s face, John edged backward. For the first time that night, John seemed uncertain, his gaze flicking between Leo and the others. All of them, even Anne, stood ready to fight.
Everyone jumped back when a thick column of smoke suddenly appeared in the middle of the road. Not smoke, Leo realized, but a concentration of darkness, drawing in all light as if consuming it. The shadows swirled, then collected into the form of a man.
The darkness dissipated. A figure stood between the Hellraisers and Leo. Though Leo had seen this man only once before, he recognized him immediately. Immaculately groomed, he wore a gentleman’s suit of ash gray satin, his dark red waistcoat covered in rich embroidery and gems. He wore a fashionable bag wig, tied with black silk. A ring, topped with a large, black stone, adorned one of his slim white hands. In every way, even in his upright posture, he looked an elegant, wealthy gentleman.
But he was no gentleman. He was not a man at all.
“My dear Hellraisers,” he drawled, his diamond white gaze glancing down at Edmund’s body, “this was not how I envisioned our reunion.”
The Devil had returned.
 
 
Anne had not yet recovered from the shock of seeing Sir Edmund Fawley-Smith murdered by the Honorable John Godfrey. The poor man had surrendered his life trying to protect his friends. He had been run through like meat upon a skewer. His blood was everywhere. And there had been nothing she could do to help.
Now his lifeless body sprawled upon the ground, and someone, some
thing
had appeared. Her every nerve tensed, and chill spread through her body. For she knew instinctively who stood before her, wearing the guise of a nobleman. She had seen too much to be astounded, and yet there was no way to prevent the shock that froze her in place. To have heard so many times about the Devil, and now, to
see
him made real ... If Anne lived to see the dawn, she doubted she would ever forget this sight, burned as it was into her mind.
She sidled closer to Leo, threading her fingers with his.
“Two of my Hellraisers gone in a single night.” The Devil shook his head, a disappointed tutor. “Edmund offered me little, but you, Leo, you could have been such a wonder.”
“I’ll live with the disappointment,” he answered flatly.
The Devil offered a chill smile. “Not for much longer.”
Anne stiffened. She did not care for those ominous words.
“I believe it was one of your natural philosophers who said,
Actioni contrariam semper et æqualem esse reactionem
. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The loss of two Hellraisers, and their power, means that the two remaining Hellraisers shall have
more
power.” The Devil curled his fingers as he turned to face Bram and John. Black energy gathered in his hands, seemingly drawn from the night itself.
Both men drew upright, as though preparing themselves. John looked eager. Bram’s expression was opaque. He had not spoken since Edmund’s death, and continued to maintain his silence. Yet he did not turn away from the Devil’s offer.
Good God, Anne already felt Bram’s menace. She could not begin to fathom what he might become if further corrupted. And John had already proved himself a villain. With more power at his disposal, he would transform into a monster.
Sensing this, both Leo and Lord Whitney sprang forward, swords upraised as if they meant to strike down the Devil. Yet before either could land a blow, energy poured from the Devil’s hands, directed toward Bram and John. At that same moment, a flash of light streaked in front of Bram.
It was Livia, crying out, “Stop!”
Her cry cut off abruptly as the dark energy pierced her. The energy pulled her into a small, single point of light, shrinking to almost nothing. Momentum carried this tiny gleam back, and into Bram. It sank into his chest, then vanished. Bram staggered back, his hand pressed between his ribs, looking down with a bewildered glower.
Livia was gone.
But Anne could not wonder at the ghost’s disappearance. Though somehow Livia had managed to deflect the Devil’s magic from going into Bram, John had not the same protection. He would not want it, for he wore a rapturous expression as dark energy coursed into him. The Devil was imbuing him with greater power—and he gloried in it.
Leo cursed and started forward again, sword upraised. The Devil snapped his fingers, and the sword spun out of Leo’s hand.
Seeing this, Lord Whitney also moved to strike, but the Devil flung him back with a flick of his wrist. Zora cried out and ran to him, sprawled on the sidewalk nearly fifty yards away. Anne breathed out in relief when she saw him stagger to his feet, though he favored one leg as Zora helped him stand.
Shouts sounded down the street. As if coming out of a trance, the city finally roused. Men’s voices called out, and feet and hoofbeats pounded against the cobblestones.
The Devil lowered his hands, and gave an irritated growl. “Do what you must,” he barked at John. “See my work come to fruition. And you.” He turned to Bram. “I will see you again very soon. As I will all of you.”
With that, shadows engulfed him, and then he was gone.
The sounds of approaching men, and the rumbling of the wheels of fire wagons, drew closer.
“We must go,” Bram said on a growl to John.
Yet John seemed reluctant to leave. A sinister smile crossed his lean face. “I can take them. The things I can do now ...”

Immediately
, John.” The order in Bram’s voice could not be disobeyed, not even by John. Both men turned and hastened down the street, away from the oncoming commotion. Before he disappeared into the darkness, Bram turned and stared back at where Anne and Leo stood. His hand lingered on his chest, over his heart—the place into which Livia had seemingly disappeared. And then he sped off, melting into the shadows.
“Don’t want to be here, either,” Leo muttered, “when there are questions that demand answers. Come.” His hand clasping Anne’s, they hurried toward Lord Whitney and Zora. “Can you run?” he demanded of the other man.
“Aye.”
“Then we move.”
“What about Edmund?” Anne asked.
Leo looked grim. “He will be found, and ... tended to.”
The four of them ducked into the mews just as throngs of men crowded the street. Anne and the others ran down the dark streets, and time blurred as she forced her body to move through the night-shrouded city. Finally, they reached a weedy, overgrown burial ground. Some of the headstones tilted precariously, and a freshly dug grave awaited its occupant.
Gasping for breath, she braced her hands on her knees. She felt Leo’s warm hand on her back, steadying her. Brittle earth and dead grasses crunched beneath their feet as their group drew together in a close circle.
The wind shook the bare branches of the trees, the sound mournful, ominous. Surely the Devil would come for them again, send more and more demons, run them all to ground. No wonder Lord Whitney had such caution and alertness in his gaze. He and Zora were hunted, as she and Leo would be. And the four of them together presented a substantial target.
“We have to part,” Leo said, as if hearing her thoughts. “Safer that way.”
“There is a band of Rom near the Scottish border,” said Zora. “They will take Whit and I in for a time.”
“And what of you?” asked Lord Whitney.
“I’m a saddler’s son,” Leo answered with a small, wry smile. “That makes me well versed in being inconspicuous.”
Anne almost laughed at that. Leo could never be inconspicuous. He radiated presence, whether he was dressed in silk or tattered muslin. She had known that from the moment they had exchanged marriage vows—he was a man of uncommon strength.
“I shall believe that when the proof stands before me,” said Lord Whitney. Clearly, he also knew Leo well.
“We cannot run and stay hidden forever,” said Anne.
“And we won’t,” Leo answered. “A bigger battle is coming, and we must be there to fight it.”
“What became of Livia?” asked Zora.
“No idea,” said Leo. “But of a certain, we will need her for that battle.”
“It’s to happen, then.” Anne rubbed her hands on her arms against the chill. Leo moved to offer her his coat, then stopped when he realized he had none to give her. His borrowed coat was now soaked with Edmund’s blood, pressed uselessly to the fatal wound. “The fight between us and the final two Hellraisers.”
“That it will,” said Lord Whitney, somber. “I do not know what happened with Bram, but John’s power has grown terribly. Of that, I am certain.”
“With his influence in Parliament,” muttered Leo, “God knows what kind of chaos he will lead us into.”
“We’ve faced demons,” Zora countered, “and won.”
“John and Bram are by far more dangerous.” Lord Whitney spoke with certitude. “They are the demons we know.”
“Then that should make them easier to vanquish,” said Anne.
“I know my own evil,” Leo answered. “Defeating that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It will be the same for John and Bram. The darkness, it countermands everything. Devours everything.”
She shivered at the hard-won experience in his voice. “It cannot be hopeless,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as the others.
“There will always be hope,” Leo replied.
Silence fell as each of them considered what lay ahead. It was to be a struggle, one they were not confident of winning, yet they had to try.
At last, Lord Whitney extended his hand to Leo. “It does my heart good to have you my ally again.”
Leo took the offered hand and shook it solemnly. “The loss of our friendship haunted me, Whit. I’m glad to have it back again.”
After releasing Leo’s hand, Lord Whitney offered Anne an exquisite bow, and kissed her knuckles. “Madam, you surpassed my every expectation.”
“I surpassed my own, as well,” she answered, then added feelingly, “My greatest thanks, Lord Whitney.”
“Whit, if you please. Those who slay demons at my side I consider my greatest friends.” He added lowly, for her ears alone, “And for what you have done for Leo, I consider you an angel.”
“Hardly an angel.” She was all too human, too fallible.
“Whatever you call yourself, you’ve earned my gratitude. And
his
soul.”
The moment Whit released her hand, Anne found herself pulled tight to Zora in a fierce embrace. “Sister,” Zora said, “I take back everything bad I ever said about
gorgies
.”
Anne was not certain she wanted to know the bad things Zora might have said about
gorgies
, whatever they were. But she returned the Gypsy’s embrace, knowing that she could rely on her far more than any of her own kin.

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