Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (4 page)

A faint vapor of steam rose from her dress. Rhys frowned. “And lose the element of surprise? What kind of a warrior would I be if I did that?”

He wasn’t sure but he thought she growled at him. Despite his efforts to keep the mood light, the pain on her face summoned his sympathy. Battle wounds were nothing new for him, their pain a reminder of his duty. He rarely thought about the punishment he heaped on his body. But for someone small and delicate like Ravyn, living through an attack from Icarus garnered both his assistance and his respect.

He held another dripping strip between his fingers. “Are there any other holy spirits you wish to invoke before I lay this on you?”

She pinched her lips together and shook her head. A hiss squeezed out when the cloth touched her wound. He wrapped a long, dry cloth around the wet strips and neatly tied off the end. He repeated the process on her other shoulder, receiving the same fervent exclamations from his patient.

When finished, he examined his handiwork. “That should do until we get to the inn.”

She gingerly prodded the bandage. “Inn?”

“Yes.” He pinned her with a stare, sensing her reluctance. “You need to heal and it’s not safe here.”

Ravyn glanced away and seemed to focus on her injuries. “What was that thing that attacked me?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.” She continued to examine the bandages a little too intently. When he didn’t answer, she finally looked up. “What?”

How could she not know? “It was a Demon Bane.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “The Bane? They’re just a myth used to scare children into behaving. They’re not real.” She paused, her expression growing serious. “Are they?”

“I assure you that they are very real, my lady.” He pointed to the bandages. His gaze didn’t waver.

She shook her head as if the idea wouldn’t take hold. “But why would it be after me?”

“My question exactly.”

“Well I certainly don’t know.” Her gaze searched his face. “I’ve lived my entire life in Menda Abbey. This is the first time I can remember being outside the gates. I was never allowed.” She shivered. “I left because of Brother Powell.”

“Was he the man at the gate?”

“Yes. He’s a monk at the abbey.”

“He knew Icarus.”

Her brow furrowed. “Icarus?”

“The demon.”

She searched the darkness around them, her eyes widening in alarm. How could she not be frightened with everything she’d been through tonight? His Shield intuition told him he’d stumbled onto more than a simple demon attack. Whether for her own good or not, it appeared Ravyn had been held as a willing prisoner at the abbey. And with Icarus’s assault, Rhys could only assume the location of her imprisonment was the key: sanctified ground. The Bane couldn’t enter, and if she’d never left, she would have been safe.

Her gaze drifted back to him but her voice dropped to a whisper. “I never realized how evil Powell was until tonight. He killed my friend. She’s dead because of me.”

Tears brimmed but refused to spill. She looked at her hands and sniffed, perhaps to hide her grief. Rhys admired her strength of will, no matter how misguided. She was a strong and caring friend, a leader who didn’t run from a fight. Those traits would be good qualities.
If
he could direct them in a useful way.

He leaned closer and lifted her chin so their eyes met. “Do not claim responsibility for other people’s actions. Taking on the sorrows of the world will cripple you and eventually drive you mad.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Do you speak from experience?”

His throat tightened. How many decades had it been since somebody looked at him with such open compassion? Like the stone that disturbs a glassy lake, her concern sent ripples deep and wide.

When he said nothing, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree. “So why would the Demon Bane want me? I’m nobody of importance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He stood and walked to Sampson, placing the medical supplies and
glowb
back in his saddlebag. “If the demon had been a Deceiver or an Enticer, I might agree the Bane were merely having sport. But the demon who attacked you was Icarus, second-in-command of the entire Demon Bane. He’s a Spoil, one of the first true Bane. They’re capable of soul-stealing. Once stolen, the soul will never find its way through the Veil. It stays locked forever in the Shadow World.”

“Angela.” Her words hitched in her throat. Two tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes and looked at him. “When I touched her all I felt was a crushing blackness.”

He didn’t react to the information she had unknowingly revealed. A piece of her puzzle fell into place. Was she a Bringer? Her ability to know and feel things by touch would mark her as a Bringer Tell.

He knelt in front of her and brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb. His words sounded empty, but he needed her to stay strong. “There was nothing you could do. I’ve fought thousands of demons and I assure you, they’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. The Bane want you. If it hadn’t been Angela it would have been somebody else.”

Round, pale-blue eyes stared back at him.

He held her gaze, wanting her to understand the importance of what he said. “You must believe and remember that the demons will stop at nothing.”

The battle between guilt and the desire to believe him played across her face. “You’re not safe, then?”

He smiled. “My lady, I’m never safe from the Bane. Now, sit forward so I can help you with your dress.”

His fingers brushed her skin as he tugged the coarse wool back into place. She winced, slowing the material’s climb. Though he tried, he couldn’t prevent his eyes from wandering to the round swells of her breasts. Knowing his lust still thrived comforted him. Too bad it decided to come alive at such an inappropriate time. He ran his hand down her sleeve. “Your dress is dry.” He met her eyes. “And very warm.”

She caressed the fabric of her bodice, oblivious to what the sight of her hands running over her breasts stirred in him. She smiled with too much innocence. “How odd.”

Curiosity replaced his twinge of desire when he thought of the wisps of steam he’d seen rising from the wet fabric not five minutes earlier. What was she? “Does this happen often?”

“It’s never happened before.”

Her words sounded truthful—to a certain extent. She hid something. He unrolled the blanket and laid it over her. “This will keep you warm and your wounds hidden until I can find you new clothes. Try to sleep. We’ll have to move soon enough to get you to safety.”

“What place could possibly be safe from that demon?”

He pointed in the abbey’s direction. “There’s the closest place. But I’m afraid it’s been compromised by the monk. We’ll restock our supplies at an inn. They’re friends, and I can protect you there until you’re well enough to travel.”

“I’m not your burden to undertake.”

He recognized the digging-in of stubborn heels when he heard it. If she believed she put him in danger, her obstinacy would grow. “You’re no burden. If the Bane are involved, I’m involved.”

“Why is that? It seems an unlikely coincidence that you just happened by in my time of need. I might have grown up in an abbey, but I’m not stupid.”

“Agreed, my lady.”

“Are the Bane after you also?”

“Always. The Demon Bane are always after me.”

“Then perhaps you’re not the best companion for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, if the desire she stirred in him was any indication. “Perhaps, but I’m currently the only person around who’s not trying to kill you. Your options are somewhat limited.”

“But my concerns are valid,” she mumbled.

Her need to protect him was endearing, even if misplaced. “I’m quite able to take care of myself
and
you.” He took a deep breath and slowed his words in hopes of putting an end to their debate. “If Icarus wants you enough to execute the abduction himself, you must be important. If you stay here, he’ll find you. You’re unable to protect yourself and it’s my duty to protect you.”

“Don’t speak to me as if I’m stupid,” she snapped. “I can protect myself far better than you know.”

“Really?” Making her angry might get him some of the information he wanted. “How?”

She rolled her lips as if all her secrets itched to spew forth.

“I won’t deny there is something very special about you, Ravyn. In time I hope you’ll come to trust me.”

She glared at him.

“Now rest.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

He cut her off. “Rest.”

Her mouth opened again.

“Silently.”

Ravyn pressed her lips together and thumped against the tree, flinching when her shoulder hit the bark. “Every day at the abbey I was told what to do, where to go, or how to act. Just once I’d like to do things my way without regard for anybody else’s opinion.”

A smile threatened as Rhys nodded. “It’s a good goal to strive for. Just not tonight.”

She harrumphed but said nothing more.

He massaged the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders to loosen some of his tension. Everything about this situation chafed. It was never good when the Bane plotted, but what concerned him most was Icarus’s involvement. What did the demon want with Ravyn?

He watched her scan the darkness with a haunted stare. It looked like neither of them would get much sleep tonight.

Chapter Four

Icarus’s limping footsteps echoed off the pillars of rock as he descended deeper into the Shadow World. Imps clung like spiders to the sloped, jagged ceiling, while lesser demons flattened their bodies against the wall or pressed into the deep crevices, scattering to clear his path.

He blasted one of the few torches along the passage. The pitch sparked to life and bathed the shaft in golden light. This place was always so damn cold and it didn’t seem to bother anybody but him. Another difference between him and the mutts.

His knee buckled, but he caught himself before he fell. “Bloody Bringer,” he growled.

The number of humans Icarus had converted faded with time, as did their faces. His existence was perpetual and, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember the beginning of his life.

Each day was the same—one mission melding into the other, always for the favor of the king, his father, and always falling short. Perhaps if he delivered the woman, he’d finally gain Vile’s approval.

The scaly, deformed back of a large demon blocked Icarus’s path. His foul mood churned and roiled. He needed—no,
wanted
—a fight. The overwhelming desire to strike was all the permission he required. Icarus grabbed the unsuspecting creature by the blunt horns and hurled its bulk into the nearest stone wall.

He didn’t look back. And he didn’t feel any better.

A roar of outrage echoed behind him, filling the narrow corridor. He stopped. Yes, this was what he craved. A chance to inflict the same kind of punishing blows he’d received tonight. An opportunity to work off some of his frustration before facing his father. He turned toward the massive demon. This brute wasn’t one of his conversions. Not that it mattered. Demons didn’t indulge in the practice of alliance and friendship. Every Bane for itself.

Recognition registered on the monster’s face. Fear mixed with deference transformed the demon’s expression from ferocity to one of compliance. The creature quickly bowed its head in submission.

Icarus sneered. He wanted a fight. Not acquiescence.

“Did you wish to say something, mutt?” He drew out the slur, hoping to goad the beast into a fight.

The shadow of the hulking demon danced up the glistening cavern wall.

It huffed, but kept its head down. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Icarus’s calculated steps brought him inches from the cowering demon. Its bristly hair rubbed against his forehead. The beast’s foul breath spattered his face, but he didn’t flinch. “Because a few seconds ago you seemed keen on taking my head. Do you want to take my head…mutt?”

Rocks scattered at the hovering imps’ hasty retreat. Low, panting growls rolled inside the creature’s chest, but the threat remained unvoiced. The faint ping of dripping water marked the seconds. Would the monster do what came naturally and strike out?

He dearly hoped so.

To the creature’s credit, it kept its eyes low and its voice compliant. “No,” it grunted.

Icarus pressed his chest against the brute’s bulging arm, purposely trying to provoke a brawl. The creature didn’t move. After several charged seconds, Icarus stepped back, disappointed. He’d get no relief here. He stomped down the passage, his heavy footfalls crushing rock to dust. Nobody stopped him.

The tunnel’s course descended the last level to the throne room, where his father waited. Facing Vile was unpleasant at the best of times. Icarus mentally replayed the scene from the abbey. The loss of the woman wouldn’t go unpunished. With Blackwell involved, his mission had just gone from difficult to dangerous. Before tonight, he hadn’t realized just how powerful the Bringer was.

“Wise to keep your secrets,” he mumbled. “But why reveal yourself tonight?” He pondered the question. Was it just the woman or something more?

The cavernous throne room loomed ahead. He slowed at the edge of the light that spilled from the archway entrance. His stomach threatened to revolt against the pungent smell of rotting meat. Demons of every shape and size littered the chamber. They were a disgusting lot, fighting and fornicating like wild animals. Much like parasites, they pissed on and ate everything in sight. How could his father tolerate them?

He shifted to take refuge in the shadows and bring Vile into view. His father lounged against his infamous throne, said to be constructed from the bones of the Bringers he’d personally killed. The Demon King reclined in glorious splendor with three female demons fawning at his feet. One succubus draped her near-naked form across Vile’s lap, cooing and stroking a black curved talon across his muscular chest.

Rarely did the king lift a talon to further the Banes’ cause. He still basked in the glory of his near annihilation of the Bringers, a coup he’d led over 300 years ago that had landed him on the throne. Vile proclaimed his service to the Bane fulfilled, and the time had come for the demons to serve him. He took particular joy in reminding Icarus of
his
purpose within the Bane—to fulfill the king’s every need.

Things would be very different if Icarus were Demon King. He wouldn’t be satisfied with the little bit of chaos his minions spread. He’d rule not only the Shadow World, but all the upper territories as well. He’d take a queen.

The Bringer woman’s image flittered through his mind before he could suppress the thought. A tidal wave of yearning surged through him. There had been times in his life—too many times—when intense feelings nearly crippled him. Random events and ideas evoked emotions akin to memory and want. Now, like every other time before, he thrust the bitter longing back into the dark crypt that housed this shame. He locked anger and ardor away, ignoring a part of himself too caustic to explore.

His focus traveled back to the throne room. Large stalactites hung like giant fangs from the high ceilings, dripping as if in anticipation of his entrance into the mouth of the beast. With great effort he ignored the pain in his leg and marched from the shadows, stopping in front of his father. His body flowed into a deep, respectful bow. He said nothing, only waited for Vile’s acknowledgment.

“Icarus, you’re back,” the king drawled.

He straightened. “I am, my lord.”

The king eyed him. “Are you injured?”

“Nothing life threatening, I assure you, my lord.”

“Then why have you arrived empty-handed?” The king circled the succubus’s dark brown nipple with his talon. “Am I foolish to expect success when I give you such a simple task?”

“A simple task turned difficult.” Icarus kept his tone even. The ground upon which he walked was tenuous, and it did no good to raise Vile’s hackles.

“Difficult? How?” The king’s voice remained casual, but the stillness of his exploring hand betrayed his interest.

“Rhys Blackwell rescued the Bringer woman.” He kept his explanation concise, knowing his father didn’t like excuses. Things about tonight’s encounter plagued him, something about the events didn’t sit well, but he wouldn’t voice his concerns until he had more answers. “I was unable to obtain her.”

“Unable?” Vile cocked his head, his eyes growing wide. His hand continued its exploration of the female’s body. “Surely one Bringer and a little woman weren’t a match for my fiercest warrior?”

The demons turned from their feasting to watch his humiliation, their laughter rippling through the crowd. Icarus ground his fangs, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Degradation at his father’s hand was nothing new, and this trivial insult didn’t disturb him. But being laughed at by a bunch of filthy animals did.

Perhaps his new information would silence their amusement. “The Blackwell Bringer has the power of fire like me.”

“What?” Vile hissed and rose, pushing the female from his lap. He stepped over the now-shrieking succubus, his blue-black wings flaring, their spiked tips extended as if to attack. “How can this be? No Bringer has that power unless they’re a full-blood.” He looked just past Icarus’s head. “Or a Bane,” he added in what sounded like an afterthought. “You’re mistaken.”

Icarus dipped his head in acquiescence. “Perhaps, Father, but as a result, they escaped.” He stood his ground, not wanting to enrage his father but not wanting to appear weak, either.

“It can’t be.” Vile paced along his dais, his steps reverberating through the now silent hall. “How?” He paused, looking directly at Icarus. His wings expanded in excitement. “Perhaps it was the woman. Perhaps her powers are greater than I originally believed.”

Icarus held his father’s yellow gaze but did not contradict or agree with his speculation. It hadn’t been the female who attacked him. Of this, he was certain. Her injuries had been too severe. He’d been surprised by Blackwell’s presence at the abbey and unprepared for the raw purity of his power. The Bringer would prove a worthy adversary in the battle for the girl’s soul.

“What do you propose, Father?”

Vile folded his wings and settled onto his throne. “Find them. Take a pod of infantry demons. I want her.”

The succubus crawled through the dirt and rotten debris scattered across the floor. With a simper, she cowered at the king’s feet, stroking his leg in an attempt to regain his favor. He ignored her.

“No more excuses, Icarus. I want the woman.” He tapped a long talon on the bleached bone arm of the throne. “This time I will annihilate everybody who possesses so much as a drop of Bringer blood in their veins.”

“As you wish, my king.”

Icarus pivoted and limped toward the stone archway, baring his fangs and growling at the filthy mob. Demons scattered, pushing and falling over one another, which incited a riot in Icarus’s wake. He ignored them and forcibly ejected any demon too slow or too stupid to move from his path.

He’d get the woman, and his father’s approval. At any cost.