Redemption (30 page)

“You think the church would relinquish it?”

“I’m not planning to ask.”

“Ha! Well, stealing
is
what you creatures do best.”

“We murder too, Reinhardt,” Marcas warned. There was a pause. The threat didn’t go unnoticed.

“What kind of danger are we looking at?” Conor asked.

“You want me to make a list, gargoyle?”

“I want you to quit being a smartass and be blunt.

“Then I’d have to ask you what kind of danger are we
not
looking at,” Marcas answered.

“There are groups that want us destroyed. The Demons are in an uproar. Even some

Angels are convinced Dayton should be removed. And then there’s Lilith,” Marcas pointed out.

Lilith’s name almost made me shiver. And Angels? Really?

       “Our most immediate danger?” Conor asked.

“A group called the Swords of Solomon. The SOS.”

“And they are?”

“The people who guard the ring,” Marcas answered.

The ring? I felt like a character in a Tolkien novel.  I fought to hear more, but my body was heavy. Was I having to suffer because Marcas was tired? I dozed off once more.

“I won’t let you hurt her,” Conor’s voice said as I drifted awake once again. He shifted subtly.  I lay still, my eyes too heavy to open.

“You don’t have a say in the matter, gargoyle,” Marcas replied.

“My actions speak louder than words, Demon.”

“You are in love with her then?” Marcas asked.

The question jarred me even more awake, and I fought hard not to tense up. Conor didn’t reply immediately.

“It’s hard not to be,” he finally murmured.

Conor’s arm fell across me. It was an uncomfortable weight only because I could feel the possessiveness in it. The feeling was both pleasant and frightening all at the same time.

“She’s been hurt enough,” Conor continued.

“And she’ll be hurt more, Reinhardt. You can’t protect her from everything.”

“I can try,” Conor spat. “
You
didn’t see her face the day her parents were buried.
You
didn’t watch the next seven years of her life lived in a prison with no affection and only condemnation.
You
can’t even recognize the fact that her strength comes now from betrayal. What must it feel like to find out you were raised to be sacrificed to a Demon. For what? For an ideal? For a redemption even
you
think doesn’t exist?” Conor argued.

My heart expanded. He was passionate and protective. The emotions chipped away slightly at the block I’d encased my heart in. But it didn’t last long. Marcas’ presence tended to overwhelm any feeling. I felt the heat coming off of him and I cringed. I’d begun to notice that, while his face was always expressionless, his body grew uncomfortably warm when his mood changed.

“Are you in love with the girl or with the damsel in distress?” Marcas asked.

The question made me feel instantly cold. Did Conor care about me or was it just an innate need to protect those weaker than him? I wasn’t weak. Conor grew silent.

“Some people look weaker on the outside than they really are. It takes a strong person to endure what you've described.  It doesn’t seem like she’s the type to fold under pressure. If she was, I would have already possessed her,” Marcas said quietly.

Possessed? As in the
Exorcist
possessed?

“You wouldn’t dare!” Conor said heatedly.

I heard Marcas sit up, and I felt his back brush up against mine as he moved in closer to Conor. The heat chased away the cold. Now
he
was intimidating. My heart rate picked up.

“I’ve already tried, gargoyle. The night she sought me out at Everett’s. Or did you know she did that? Despite her fear. How many people do you know who would seek out a Demon? I could have killed her. And I tried. I did try. Her resolve is stronger than you think hero. I couldn’t even get inside her head enough to do anything more than cause discomfort,” Marcas said.

I did open my eyes slightly then, just enough that I could see Monroe dozing next to me on Conor’s chest. Our heads were touching slightly. Her breathing was shallow. Something told me she was eavesdropping too.
That’s
what that electric buzz at Everett’s had been about. I
had
felt Marcas' presence. He hadn’t come out of the alley when I called for him because he'd actually been trying to possess and kill me! Jesus! The thought
didn’t surprise me, but it did make me angry. God, he was a bastard! Not that Demons are supposed to be anything less than that.

“You would kill her?” Conor asked.

Well, duh. He’d obviously already tried. I felt Marcas move away.

“Would you expect anything less? I’m not here because I want to be, Reinhardt. I’ve been around a long, long time. Anything good in me was worn out centuries ago,” Marcas said. The tone of his voice made me shiver.

“You can quit pretending to sleep, Dayton. Monroe,” Marcas muttered.

Well damn! There’s nothing worse than getting caught spying. I opened my eyes to find Monroe staring back at me sheepishly. I shrugged. She could feel bad about listening in if she wanted to, but I sure as hell didn’t.

“How much longer is the flight?” Monroe asked.

The seat belt light came on, and Marcas glanced over at her.

“That answer your question?”

Something told me we were well beyond getting on his nerves. The captain’s voice came over the loud speaker and I sat up. There was light streaming in through the window next to Monroe, but I avoided it like the plague. I had a genuine fear of heights. This was probably strange considering my father was an Angel, but it was true nonetheless. A hand came to rest on my back gently, and I looked up at Conor. His face was clouded.

“You okay?” I asked him.

He looked down at me and our eyes met. His usual sparkling humor was replaced by something darker, and, for the first time, I felt like our roles were reversed. I looked down and saw his other hand lying in his lap, and I took it in mine. He gripped it hard. My eyes found his again.

“This is changing a lot of things, isn’t it?” I whispered.

 Conor leaned close.

“Not everything, Red. It isn’t changing everything."

 His eyes searched mine. It hit me then. Marcas was wrong. Conor didn’t care about me because he thought I needed him. He needed me. I wasn’t sure why. He was one of the strongest people I knew. Always had been. He’d been a champion for me from the day he’d thrown a bucket of mud over my head while dressed in my Sunday best to the day he’d asked me to dance at the formal our ninth grade year when no one else would because I’d had a little accident with Monroe’s hair straightener and washable hair dye. He was tall, proud, and strong. And, for the past year, he’d obviously been my guardian.

“Maybe,” I muttered as I pulled my hand away.

The connection had become uncomfortable. There wasn’t a moment of my life that didn’t include Conor in some way. I did love him. I did. I just wasn’t sure in what way. Conor looked away but he didn’t remove his hand from my back. I looked over at Monroe. She gave me her best "we’ll figure this out" look. I smiled slightly.

“So, do we get to do any touring here, or is it all James Bond-wanna-be-hell?” Monroe asked, her tone light.

 Marcas looked over at us blankly. The plane rolled to a stop and the seat belt light "dinged" off.

“We have got to make you watch some movies,” I said to the Demon as I unfastened my seat belt. He didn’t reply.

People began lining up in the aisle and we all moved toward the exit. My eyes grew round as we drew close to the opening. I’d always wanted to travel. Italy was on the top of my "places I wanted to see" list.

“I hope you enjoyed your flight,” an attendant said merrily as we climbed out of the plane.

Late afternoon sun blinded me momentarily, and I didn’t bother acknowledging her. "Enjoy" wasn’t the word I’d use to describe the long hours spent hanging
way
too far up in the air with a reluctant Demon and a pissed off gargoyle. My feet hit the tarmac and I sighed. I wondered if it would look strange for me to kiss the ground. I loved gravity.

“Is it wrong that I’m standing on Italian soil and the only thing I want is a shower and a toothbrush? The film on my teeth is beginning to drive me nuts,” I muttered as we walked through the airport. We didn’t have luggage. Monroe laughed.

“Ditto. Please tell me we get to go shopping,” she pleaded.

Conor snorted. “With what?”

 Monroe slapped him on the side of the head playfully. He flinched and pretended to be seriously injured.

“Don’t go spoiling my dreams,” she said sulkily.

Marcas walked ahead of the three of us. I knew our company annoyed him on many levels, and I felt genuinely sorry for the way we'd been thrown together. Neither one of us had asked for this. I watched his back a moment, my thoughts whirring, as Monroe and Conor threw jibes at each other next to me. There were still a million questions left unanswered, so many things I didn't know about myself and the Demon I was bound to. I glanced quickly at Monroe and Conor, watching them argue a moment before jogging slightly to catch up with Marcas.

“Where to next?” I asked breathlessly. He didn’t slow down.

“Marcas?” I persisted. He looked behind him.

“We meet up with a few Demons I actually trust,” he answered.

Demons? Wait a minute. I let him move ahead. Demons? I jogged to catch up with him again, almost tripping over several people as I went. I was panting as I came up beside him.

“I thought they all wanted me dead,” I said shakily.

He moved through the crowd easily. People seemed to know to stay out of his way. I needed that power too. If it even was a power. Maybe it was just Marcas.

“I have a few kin loyal to me, Blainey. They won’t harm you if I order them not to,” Marcas said as he walked out into the street.

 I froze. The scene before me was awe inspiring. People moved along the busy stone road screaming into cell phones, dragging luggage, or hailing taxis. Italian words wrapped themselves around me as I glimpsed some of the architecture in the distance that made Italy famous. 

“Awesome,” I heard Monroe whisper from behind me.

I smiled. We weren’t even at a tourist attraction, just standing outside an airport, and I was already in love with the country. I think it was the atmosphere. It was a mix of modern society and ancient history. The Italian language around us didn't hurt. Not being able to speak or understand the tongue made the scene feel exotic. I found myself whispering a sonnet by Oscar Wilde, the lines making so much more sense in that moment than when I'd first read them.

"Italia, my Italia, at thy name:

And when from out the mountain's heart I came

And saw the land for which my life had yearned,

I laughed as one who some great prize had earned."

I finished as I looked toward the road, my eyes finding Marcas. He was looking at me quietly, and I felt my face burn. I had a tendency to talk to myself, and I knew it probably looked like a childish habit. I kept my expression blank and Marcas turned away, flagging down a car idling further down the street. The driver seemed to pick up on Marcas' gesture, and the car pulled into the crowd before stopping next to us. I glanced nervously at Conor and Monroe. It didn’t look like a taxi, but I didn’t argue as Marcas stood back and motioned for us to climb in. So far, he’d kept his promise to keep us safe. He leaned into the front seat and said something to the driver in the native tongue. If he wasn’t such an ass, it would have been sexy.

“I’ll go first,” Conor said abruptly. Monroe and I looked at him in surprise. Unless he was angry or sick, it wasn’t like Conor to enter a vehicle before a female. The fact that he did so now meant he must be worried. It made me more cautious. Monroe followed Conor, and I slid in last. The vehicle’s interior was made up of dark leather and smelled new. Yep, this wasn’t a taxi. Marcas slid into the front seat and began talking to the driver.

“Should we worry?” Monroe asked me nervously as she watched the man behind the wheel nod before pulling away from the airport. He and Marcas appeared to be the same height. His head was level with Marcas' and his hair was just as black. His face, however, was shaped different. Longer. And he
felt
younger than Marcas. There was no doubt he was a Demon. Somehow, I just
knew
he was. Must be something else I’d inherited from my dear ol' bound-buddy. 

“I don’t think so,” I finally answered. “If there is such a thing as a friend in the Demon world, I think he’s one of them.”

I watched Marcas and the stranger talk. They seemed at ease with each other. It was completely different from the way he’d been when talking to Samuel. There was no "animal kingdom" animosity, suspicious glares, or barbed comments. We lapsed into silence as the man drove. I glanced at Conor and noticed him staring out the window. The conversation in the front seat halted.