Embrace of the Damned (35 page)

Her blood turned to slushy ice.

Gripping the warmly pulsing handle, she turned in a tight circle, watching for any sign of movement. Her heart beating out a too-fast rhythm and perspiration slicking her grasp, her gaze flicked from a ripped black trash bag flapping in the breeze to a soaked box that appeared filled with rotted fruit to a decaying, rusted refrigerator turned on its side.

Nothing.

Silence.

The handle of the sword throbbed dully.

Her breath came faster, her body quivering. All her senses told her there was something out there, watching her, stalking her. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw something dark shoot toward her.

She whirled to face it, sword held high. All the panic left her and into that space rushed every bit of the training she’d received. Her scar throbbed along the length of her neck, reminding her of the stakes.

The demon charged her, white fangs gleaming, and she swung the sword, knowing that if she didn’t separate his head from his neck, she’d be his liquid breakfast.

“Jessa?”

Broder murmured her name, turning over to find the bed empty. The pillow was indented and the sheets and blankets were tangled as though she’d just thrown them aside.

Disappointment made him lower his head to the pillow and groan. He’d been looking forward to pulling her against
him, giving her a kiss, and seeing where it led. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he couldn’t get enough.

She’d probably hit the exercise room already. It was her usual schedule, working out first thing in the morning, though, if so, she’d woken up earlier than usual today. It wasn’t even light outside yet.

He forced himself to sit up, needing to go find her. He had things he needed to tell her. Big, heavy things that lay on his heart like hundred-pound weights yet they had all the substance of a fog at dawn. Loki would be the sun that burned away that fog. All the emotion Broder had for Jessa—nothing he said, no matter how much it mattered to him, would make a difference in the end. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life without her.

It didn’t matter. He still needed to tell her how he felt.

He found a pair of jeans. Once he’d pulled them on, he turned to walk from the room, but a flash of blue caught his attention before he reached the doorway. On the bedside table an envelope lay propped against the lamp, his name scrawled on the front. A note.

Rage immediately filled him. There was only one reason Jessa would leave a note.

He strode over, ripped the envelope open, and scanned it.

She’d gone to the seidhr enclave.

Swearing in four different languages, he tossed the paper to the floor and raced from the room. She could be in danger. He had to get to her before she took a step into that coven.

“Broder, don’t you fucking dare.”

Broder halted at the sound of Loki’s voice behind him. Slowly, he turned to find the god dressed in some polished, expensive suit, with what looked to be a two-hundred-dollar plum-colored tie. “Loki. What an unexpected surprise.”

“Spare me the sarcasm. Just where did you think you were headed, Broder?”

His jaw locked.

Loki paced toward him. “You look pissed off. Too pissed to answer.” He waved his hand. “Don’t bother. I know where you were going and you can stop right there, brother. You
know you’re forbidden from setting foot in the seidhr enclave.”

All the Brotherhood were forbidden, but he, especially, was barred with violent force. Getting the seidhr simply to rune his coat had been a battle.

“What will you do to me if I go anyway?” Broder snorted. “Kill me? Please, do that, Loki. The time is long past that I should be dust in the wind.”

Loki favored him with a particularly malicious smile. “Oh, come now, you know I’m far more creative than that. Death is way too easy a punishment for directly disobeying me.”

“I love her.”

Loki’s smile faded, but the cold look in his eyes was even worse. “You gave up your right to love long ago, Broder. Your right to emotion like that was washed away in a deluge of blood spilled by your own hand. Your soul is mine to keep. You can’t give it to anyone else.” He smiled, brightly this time, as if they were talking about something pleasant. “Anyway, if you really love her, you’ll let her go. She’s where she needs to be now. She’s with her people. Leave her be. All is as it should be.”

Broder looked away from Loki, not wanting to accept the truth of those words.
Leave her be.
If he truly loved her, he should do exactly that.

“Ah, I see on your face that I’ve broken through your thick head. Excellent.” Loki’s voice sent a chill through the room. “Don’t disobey me, Broder. I will freeze the Earth for a thousand years before I let you set foot in the seidhr compound without massive punishment.”

And in a blink, he was gone.

Broder stood in the center of the room, staring down at the crumpled letter on the floor.

If you love her … leave her be. She’s where she needs to be now.

Jessa leapt out of the way, narrowly missing the swipe of an enormous hand. This was probably a low-level demon and he looked it—an unintelligent grunt. Pivoting on the ball of her foot, she brought her boot around and clipped the thing in the side of the head.

The demon staggered to the side, shaking his ringing head, as she spun away. A split second later he lunged for her again, catching her by her shirt. The material ripped as she lurched to the side and nearly tripped, her sword swinging wildly. Her heart thudded. This was not the time to lose control.

Listing to the side to catch her balance, she madly swiped with the sword, cutting only air. The demon sensed he had her, growled something in a foreign language, and leapt. Staggering backward, she swung again. This time the tip of the blade sliced through fabric, bit into the demon’s upper chest. It had been purely luck.

The thing roared, blood coursing down his chest, but this was no Loki blade she wielded; he didn’t explode into ice fragments. The wound only seemed to enrage him. He stalked toward her again.

Jessa retreated backward, sword hanging loose in one hand. She had to kill this thing. It was her life or his. She stumbled over a piece of refuse, nearly falling on her ass. The demon smiled, sensing he had her. Whimpering deep
in her throat, she slouched her shoulders.
Oh, God, she was going to die.

The agent’s smile widened.

Good.
Stupid, gullible thing.

Jessa leapt forward, right into the demon, bringing her fist around into the tender flesh of his nose. The demon howled, his head snapping to the side. Her hand burst with pain, but that was no matter now. With a two-handed grip on the sword handle, she pivoted, bringing the blade around to bite into the nape of his neck with as much force as she could muster. The blade was incredibly sharp and it slid into the demon’s flesh like butter.

And stuck a little over halfway through.

She released the handle of the sword and stepped away from the demon, her chest squeezing painfully and little sounds that weren’t at all feigned issuing from her throat. She’d taken her shot … and failed.

The demon stared at her, wide-eyed, as though surprised to have a sword stuck in his neck. Blood coursed from all three of the wounds she’d inflicted. At least there was that.

At least she’d fought like a banshee for her life.

He took a step toward her, his lip curling, eyes bled black, a snarl ripping from his throat. She closed her eyes and let go. This was it. She was done. The demon’s breath teased her face.

Ice exploded all over her and the sound of her sword clattering to the ground met her ears.

She opened her eyes to find ice caught in her hair, splattering her face and clothes. Letting out a small sound of surprise, she stepped backward and slipped in it.

The demon was gone.

Bending down, she snagged up her sword, still too shaky to celebrate her victory. Apparently partway through worked, too. Hallelujah.

Just as she straightened, melting ice slowly sliding down the blade of her sword, she heard a series of low snarls and growls coming from all around her. Her head jerked up. Dogs? Right, she should be so lucky.

Several demons stepped onto the road from their hiding places in the brush.

Jessa stood stock-still for a moment, then bolted down the road as fast as her legs would work. The demons pounded behind her and she ran faster, her chest bursting, her veins pumping. Her only chance was to get to the enclave.

In the lightening early dawn sky she glimpsed the glint of heavy front gates. That had to be it. The seidhr enclave.

Behind her a demon grabbed for her back, his fingertips just brushing her shoulder.
Oh, God,
she chanted in her head.
Please, no.
She pushed herself even harder, using every ounce of her will to widen the gap.

Jessa squinted, seeing a figure in the distance standing in front of the gates. She missed a step and stumbled. That magickal guiding sensation in her chest grew stronger at the sight of this person, whoever he was, and it did seem to be a
he
, by consideration of the build.

This was the person who’d been calling to her. It hadn’t been Carolyn at all.

Oh, hell, she hoped he wasn’t demon. Had she been tricked? Was this another trap set by the Blight? If it was, she was dead.

She had no choice but to continue, even if she might be running straight into the arms of a high-level agent of the Blight. Veering off the path meant losing momentum, tumbling through trash. Her grip on her sword tightened. All she could do now was run and fight. Fight to the bitter end.

As she drew closer to the figure, she was able to see his face. He was an old man with white hair and a long beard braided into two plaits. His eyes weren’t old looking, though. Even from a distance she noted their sharp, bright blueness. This man was an ancient shaman.

This man was Thorgest Egilson, her great-grandfather.

Thorgest raised both his hands, palms facing out. Some force pulsed through the air, seeming to make reality itself bow outward for a moment.

Behind her she heard the now-familiar sound of demons
exploding into ice. In the same moment she reached him, stumbling forward into his arms. She staggered against him, but he held her up with surprisingly steely arms for such an old man. Her sword clattered to the ground at his feet.

Chest heaving, she pushed up away from him, looking over her shoulder. All the demons had exploded at once, leaving the road awash in ice crystals that gleamed and caught the early morning light.

Jessa could say nothing, but it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Clutching her chest, she concentrated on breathing and staving off a heart attack.

“Welcome, my kin,” said the man in a rich baritone. “Welcome, my great-granddaughter.” His accent was thickly Scottish.

The first moment she could make a sound, she wheezed, “Thorgest.” Her hand hurt like hell from punching the demon. She cradled it, knowing she’d have an awful bruise.

“Yes, my name is Thorgest Egilson.”

“Demons,” she rasped. “You said I would be safe.” She straightened, finally regaining her breath a little.

Thorgest looked unconcerned. He gazed down the road where she’d almost lost her life. She guessed that if you could use magick to explode demons there wasn’t much to fear. “One of Loki’s tricks, I expect.”

She closed her eyes, marshaling a sudden rush of rage.
She hated Loki.

He motioned to her. “I apologize about the road ye walked, but there’s a reason it looks that way. It discourages people from traveling down it, through not only its appearance but also wards. I feared its magick might dissuade ye, but I’m happy to see ye were strong enough to resist.”

“It was the demons I was mostly concerned with,” she gritted out, gathering her sword from the ground.

She stood, staring down the road in question. Why had she ever left Broder? Her heart ached. It was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. This had been a mistake. She needed to go back to him, demons or no….

She shivered and shook her head. What had she just been
thinking? She couldn’t take that kind of a risk. It was far better to stay here, where it was safe.

Jessa turned toward Thorgest. “Did you say wards?” Her ability to think had gone sluggish and slow. She shook her head to try to clear it, but it was hard.

Her great-grandfather motioned to her again. “Come into the compound, Jessa. I ken ye have questions and you need cleaning up.”

“I have so many questions.”

“And I will answer all of them for ye.”

She still didn’t move toward him, but she wasn’t really sure what was holding her back.

Her great-grandfather shifted his weight and sighed a little. “It’s that man, perhaps? Broder Calderson?”