Devil Take Me (13 page)

“No!” Annie screamed. Namtar lifted his head from the black pavement in time to see Samyaza tugging at her leash, preparing to pull her into the air by her throat. He would strangle her within a few minutes and then reach in for her soul. It was nearly too late.

“Annie!” Namtar called her name as he struggled to his feet. He must speak the journeying spell again, join them in the air and prepare to fight Samyaza to the death.

“Take my soul!” Annie’s hands gripped the rope around her neck as her feet were lifted off the ground, forcing out her words before she lost her last bit of breath. “I want to give you my soul, Namtar! Take it! Please!”

What she asked wasn’t possible, he knew it and so did Samyaza. The soul sacrifice ceremony had to be performed using elements of the four directions and blood from both the human and the immortal. He could not claim her soul in any other manner and still leave her among the living. But simply knowing Annie was prepared to give herself to him completely, seeing the admiration in her eyes as she realized he fought for her and nothing more, gave him the extra strength he needed.

Forgetting the journeying spell, Namtar leapt from the ground, managing to stay airborne just long enough to grasp Samyaza by the ankle and hold on for dear life.

Samyaza screamed, a roar of rage that echoed off the clouds like thunder. He kicked and thrashed, but Namtar held fast, clinging to the Grigori’s flesh as he sent his magic out through his hands, surging under the skin of the man who had dared to steal the woman who belonged to him. The woman he belonged to.

Seconds ticked by without effect. The ground below grew more distant and Annie’s face, staring up at him from where she swung by the Grigori’s rope, grew paler. Her hands were weakening. She would not be able to keep the noose from tightening around her throat for much longer. Namtar forced even more power from his hands, his own throat growing tight as he watched Annie’s eyes close.

“No!” His howl of pain vibrated through his every cell, wrenching the last bit of death magic from his body and sending it coursing into Samyaza.

Finally, the Grigori’s wings began to fail him. They plummeted a dozen feet, free falling through the air before Samyaza churned his wings once more, struggling to fly despite the poison sweeping under his skin. Namtar could feel it now, feel the Grigori’s flesh beginning to soften, to darken with pockets of rot and disease.

“Release me!” Samyaza’s eyes glowed as he stared down at Namtar, the hate of several millennia shining brightly within.

“Release the human to my keeping!” Namtar tightened his grip, making it clear nothing else would compel him to set Samyaza free.

“The abomination dies, and so will you!” The golden line holding Annie suddenly disappeared and she began to fall, spinning toward the ground. But they were still too high. The impact would kill her.

Namtar dropped his hold on Samyaza and dove through the air, reaching for Annie, praying he would get to her in time. If he could only take her in his arms, and spin them so that his body would bear the brunt of the fall, perhaps he could—

“Die, Namtar, as you should have died three thousand summers ago!” Samyaza’s words met his ears seconds before the Grigori’s golden power slammed into his body with enough strength to force the air from his lungs.

Namtar’s skin began to burn, as if a thousand tiny fires had been set across his body. He screamed in pain, his hands fisting at his sides, and his eyes squeezing closed—though not before he saw Annie take control of her magic. Just as she had slowed the bullet as it had flown from the weapon earlier that eve, she slowed her own fall, decreasing her momentum until Namtar was certain she would survive the impact with the Earth.

Once she hit the ground, she would run as fast as her legs would carry her, far away from this place. She would find a place to hide. She was no fool who would risk fighting such a creature as Samyaza. She would seek out a place where he would never find her.

Then, Annie would be safe from the Watchers’ persecution, so long as she never used her power again, so long as she stayed away from creatures such as himself who would stir her magic to life.

She would live.

Namtar’s very blood caught fire, carrying him toward the brink of extinction, but the knowledge that Annie would survive gave him something he’d never dreamed he would have—peace. Love truly was as powerful as the ancient bards and poets had declared. His only regret was that it had taken him so very long to discover that truth, and that he would never get to hold Annie in his arms and tell her the secrets of his heart.

Now she wished nothing more than to see them covered in blood, his blood, the creature who had dared to try to kill the only man who had ever made her feel truly loved. In those moments Namtar had fought for her, for her and nothing else, Annie’s heart had broken and reformed itself in a different image. She no longer cared if the man was a monster. He was her monster, and she would fight for her right to be damned to the depths of hell by his side.

Or wherever it was he lived. The Underworld, hell, Outer Mongolia—no destination could frighten her as long as Namtar would be there at the end of the journey. No matter that they’d known each other less than two days. In that short time he had stood by her side, protected her, respected her, listened to her, rocked her body to the core of her being, touched her with the gentleness of a lover and risked his life to save hers. Not once, but twice.

All in all, it was the best basis for a long-term relationship she’d ever had. She couldn’t let him be taken away from her, not if there was anything she could do to save him. If he wouldn’t take her soul, then she’d risk her body to make sure he lived to see the end of this night.

Her feet hit the ground and time kicked back into high gear. Annie’s head swam at the sudden change as she felt the weight of gravity press down upon her with its full strength once more. She stumbled and nearly fell to the ground. But somehow she kept her balance and turned, looking up into the sky.

“No,” she whispered, then screamed the word again, the rage within her tripling as she watched Namtar’s face glow an even more brilliant gold, until it seemed he would catch fire if he burned any brighter.

Annie scanned the ground, found a chunk of asphalt and hurled it at the angel, ignoring the pain throbbing from the exposed nerves in her scraped palms. Miraculously, she nearly struck the man’s arm. Despite years of Little League baseball, he would have been far too high in the air for the old Annie to even dream of hitting. But the power that helped her run so quickly seemed to have infused her throwing arm with a little extra oomph as well. Her next missile actually found its target, hitting Sam-what’s-his-name in the stomach—hard.

He grunted and glared down at her, but didn’t shoot any of his golden power in her direction. He was intent on doing away with Namtar, but he would be coming for her next, she read that truth in his hateful glowing eyes.

Bring it on, asshole. Annie found another chunk of pavement and another, then moved on to rocks, and then the pieces of broken bottles that littered the filthy parking lot. Finally, as more of her missiles found their mark, the glow surrounding Namtar faded the slightest bit. His dark eyes opened, finding her own.

A sob broke from Annie’s throat and the beer bottle flying from her hand went wild as she saw the amazement, the shock, in her lover’s eyes. He hadn’t dreamed she would fight for him, that anyone would fight for him. He’d fully expected her to run, to think about nothing but saving her own ass, even after all he’d done for her.

She ran forward, grabbing another bottle from the ground, determined to help Namtar free himself enough to fight back. She had no illusions that she could defeat the Annunaki or Grigori or whatever the hell this thing was. But if she could help Namtar escape that gold light, he had seemed to be doing fairly well on his own. Patches of grey and green still covered the angel’s skin, marks she knew first hand were the prelude to much more horrendous things.

If someone had asked her fifteen minutes ago if she wanted to see Namtar’s power in action—up close and personal—ever again, she would have sworn on a stack of Holy Bibles that she didn’t. That nothing could force her to willingly endure that horror again. Now she would relish nothing more than seeing that son of a bitch angel’s skin explode. Hell, she’d be able to enjoy a bowl of popcorn and a soda while watching the evil bastard’s innards becomes outtards.

Or maybe a beer. A beer was sounding really good about right now…

Just went to show she should never swear on anything, especially Holy Bibles. Considering she was evidently part devil or whatever or the angel wouldn’t be after her “half-breed” soul, then the Bibles probably wouldn’t have done much good anyway.

“Run, Annie! Run, damn you!” Namtar howled the words, seemingly angry with her, but she knew better. He was worried about her, wanted her to live even if that meant he had to continue the fight on his own.

“No! I’m not leaving without you.”

“You fool! You must—” Namtar’s words ended in a scream of pain as the golden light intensified once more.

Annie picked up a wadded up McDonald’s bag and threw it, having run out of more lethal ammunition at her present location. She was going to have to make a run for the dumpster. There should be plenty of beer bottles in there. Surely J.J. of J.J.’s Sloppy Seconds enjoyed his brew. Maybe she’d get really lucky and he’d be a Colt 45 man. She would enjoy seeing a bottle that big explode on the Sam guy’s face.

She dashed toward the trash, spotting a nicely sized chunk of pavement on the way. The thing called to her, practically demanding to be plucked from the ground, as if her life depended on bending over to pick it up. Right. Now.

Annie obeyed the compulsion, crouching down just in time to feel a hot wind sweep over her head. The wind screeched as it passed by, a sound that transformed to a wail of pain as it made contact with the dumpster with a hearty thunk.

“Ohmygod!” That was no wind. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked as much like a devil as the man strangling Namtar looked like an angel. Wrinkled red skin covered a thin body no bigger than a large dog. Horns sprouted from its head, above five or seven black eyes that burned with liquid fire.

Unfortunately, by the way the thing rose on its scrawny legs and stalked toward her with fangs bared, it wasn’t feeling any friendlier toward her than its angelic counterpart. The good and the bad and the ugly—they all had it in for her and Namtar.

Life was so unfair. But then, what else was new? At least now she had someone on her side, assuming he lived through the night.

“Dammit,” Annie screamed, turning to hurl her chunk of pavement up into the air.

The devil’s teeth were sharp and scary looking, but she figured she could fight him off on her own, at least for a little while. Namtar didn’t have much longer by the looks of it. If he didn’t get free of the angel’s power soon, he wasn’t going to make it. She knew that truth in the same way she’d known she had to duck down a few minutes ago, in the same way she’d known she had to hide from the creature who was coming for her.

In the same way she now knew she needed to turn her attention back to the ground around her because some serious shit was getting ready to hit the fan.

“Oh…crap.” Annie turned, her mouth dropping open and the blood rushing from her face. Her little friend by the dumpster wasn’t alone. He’d brought friends, lots and lots of little, fangy friends.

The devils scuttled from the darkness behind the dumpster, from around the other side of the pawn shop, streaming into the parking lot like cockroaches into a room where the light had been turned off. They didn’t all look the same—the shades of red and orange and yellow varied along with the number of eyes and mouths and appendages—but they all looked like devils. And they all had the same wicked light in their eyes, a shine that told her she was no longer at the top of the food chain.

Human. Blooood. The words echoed through her mind as if hissed by a hundred forked tongues.

She could feel their desire, the anticipation for the feast rolling from the little creatures, washing over her skin, making her flesh crawl. She’d never felt so small and delicate, so fragile and aware of the inherent weakness of her human form. Her magic instinctively surged in response, flaring out around her, stabbing at the air as the little monsters scuttled forward.

“Not human!” One of the demons hissed, cringing to the ground as if her power scalded him. Telepathic groans followed from the other devils, and the entire front line began to retreat, backing away, calling one word again and again.

“Nephilim! Nephilim!”

The word struck a chord within Annie, resonating in the same way Annunaki had when it had burst into her mind. But this time she had a meaning to put with the term. The nephilim were the offspring of fallen angels if she remembered her mythology classes in college correctly. There were several variations on their story, but in each they were considered damned by God and man, wretched creatures who must be destroyed. They were unholy things, abominations.

A part of her didn’t want to accept that she was something so horrible, so…unnatural, but it certainly would explain why an angel wanted her head on the platter.

Still, something about the explanation didn’t ring true. Not that she was sure she even believed in God anymore—any of them—but surely a real heavenly being, sent by a creator who swore he loved his children, wouldn’t be so…evil. The creature who had tried to kill her and was now wringing the life from Namtar was not a good guy. He hadn’t kept watch over any innocent babies by night.

Hell, he looked like he’d enjoy eating babies for breakfast.

“Advance! The Grigori steals our prize!” A devil far taller than the rest pressed through to the front of the ranks. Annie only topped him by an inch or two, but was still fairly certain she could take him out if it came down to that. He was nearly as wide as he was tall and possessed tiny little cloven hooves that weren’t designed to bear his immense weight. She’d tip him over and run for it if he made a move, she decided. With a little luck, he’d crush a few of the little devils behind him and reduce the number of things she and Namtar would have to fight.

Speaking of Namtar…

A quick glance over her shoulder helped her breathe a bit easier. He’d managed to grab hold of the angel’s leg again. With only one hand this time, but his power was obviously affecting the other man. He’d fallen several feet, one of his wings nearly making contact with the roof of the pawn shop before he surged upward once more.

“Advance I tell you! Worthless ranks of—”

“She is nephilim, captain, of the darkling sort.” The small, orange devil who had been about to receive a smack from the captain babbled the words so quickly Annie wasn’t sure if he’d said “darkling” or “darling”, but figured nothing about a fallen angel’s family line would be “darling”.

“That’s right, I am. Of the very darkling sort,” Annie bluffed on instinct. “And I’ll make you very sorry if you hurt me, or my…Namtar.”

Shit! Should she have called him her god? Her death god? Maybe just boyfriend would have worked? Geez, she was the worst liar in the world, the very freaking worst.

“She understands our language.” The captain stepped back, bringing a hand that resembled a pickled pig’s foot to his mouth.

“Yes, captain. And her power bit at us with razor teeth.”

“And she doesn’t like being talked about as if she weren’t here.” Annie glared at them, hoping she looked suitably nephilim-like.

“Don’t anger her again, captain, the pain was most terrible.”

“I liked it, I want some more!” This from a teeny-tiny little yellow demon not taller than her calf which she’d barely noticed hidden among the legs of the larger creatures. Its voice sounded like a child’s—if the child happened to have a lisping forked tongue—and the grin it shot in her direction was almost cute.

God, what was wrong with her? Cute? Surely there was another adjective more applicable to a creature whose pig nose dripped some sort of bright orange snot.

“See, my lord, the little one is Sariesian. It hungers for her power. We will have no victory here tonight with—”

The orange demon howled as the captain slammed his fist into the top of his head. His skull didn’t shatter, but rather seemed to…smoosh out around itself. One second his head was round, the next, flattened in the center and bulging around the edges.

Whatever was inside there—brain or something uniquely demon—it was obviously damaged. The creature fell to the ground without a sound and stayed there, unmoving.

“There will be victory, or there will be death. Our lords demand it! Ereshkigal demands it!”

A half-hearted war cry emerged from the mouths of the devils nearest the captain, but even fear of head-smooshage didn’t seem to make them eager to advance. Annie was actually beginning to feel a little hopeful that the devil threat was a non-threat when the captain raised his hand in the air, sweeping it in large circular motions.

“To the sky, brethren of the air, to the sky! Seek our prey!”

From the back of the mob rose what looked like a flock of giant bats. But they weren’t bats, they were winged devils, and the prey they sought was Namtar.

First her murderous ex and what she could only assume were his hired hit men, then an evil angel, and now the army of devils. Between the people after the two of them, she and Namtar just couldn’t catch a fucking break. It pissed her off. Hell, it more than pissed her off, it made her so angry she was blinded by rage, willing to strangle something just for the stress release it would provide.