The Demon Within (38 page)

The exercise taught her patience. And surprisingly, she had a knack for it. Seated on the floor behind the desk, Caly pulled open the bottom cupboard of the hutch. Hopefully, she still had a few wax pages left that weren’t too brittle with age.

“Jackpot.” Shoved in the back rested an unopened tube. Digging further, she found an old aerosol can with the fixative. From the weight, she estimated half of the adhesive product remained. Enough to preserve the page.

From the recesses of the cupboard, she removed a small tackle box where she’d kept her supplies. Five years of dust coated the surface, and she brushed off the top. A cough wracked her, and she waved a hand in front of her face.

It was time to get to work. The medallion looked relatively clean and she bypassed the cleaning brushes. Taking a towelette, she dampened the cloth and cleaned the surface, careful to reach every dip and crevice. Memories of the hours she spent at work came back to her.

Immobilizing the disk, Caly carefully drew out the sheet. As a test, she began with the back. The metal felt smooth, but experience taught her wax would find details where touch failed.

Taping the edges down, she pressed the wax paper lightly over the piece to avoid blemishes. Using charcoal, she circled the edges first then proceeded to fill in the frame, coloring them darker with long, even strokes.

Charcoal covered her fingers when she sat back to view the finished product. “Damn.” What appeared blank to the naked eye actually held an image. Tilting her head, she saw a code take shape.

With more care, Caly started the process over with the front. The slight ridges and depressions made it more difficult, but she was satisfied with the result. In a steady hand, she sealed the charcoaled wax with the spray, waited for it to dry and removed the tape.

Not bad.

Caly picked up the medallion. Where to hide it? She carefully stretched out her leg, groaning at the stiffness, wiggling the feeling back into her toes when an idea caught her.

She quickly untied the laces and toed off the boot. Tipping it to the light, she studied the satin lining.

Perfect.

She grabbed her belt knife and made a small slit in the lining. The thought of replacing another piece of clothing made her wince.

Muscling the metal into the small opening, Caly shook the boot until the disk shifted to where it wouldn’t be uncomfortable to wear and still fight.

Once done, she laced her boot back into place and smiled.

Anxious to talk with Ruman and find out what the message meant, she snatched up the sketch and peeled up the stairs.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” She bounded into the room, feeling a bit foolish for being nervous at seeing Ruman after last night. “You’ll never…” Her voice trailed off, and she circled the room.

No Ruman.

Nerves changed to unease.

The covers were thrown back, his clothes gone. A quick glance at the bathroom showed it was empty.

Downstairs for coffee? He was addicted to the hickory blend Kelly preferred.

Tromping down the steps, Caly entered the kitchen, more on edge.

Nothing.

An ugly suspicion surfaced. She took the stairs back to her room two at a time. Heart pounding, the door banged against the wall as she stormed inside, nearly skidding into the room. Caly’s gaze zoomed in on the dresser.

Carnwennan was gone.

And so was Ruman.

She very much doubted it was a coincidence. A bubble of dread formed in her stomach and caught in her throat. Fragile pieces of her heart crumbled, leaving only a deep ache of betrayal that felt so familiar.

Chapter Twenty-eight

R
uman felt the emptiness before his eyes opened. He bolted upright, uncertain what to expect. When he saw no signs of struggle, he forced himself to relax back on the bed. A smug smile tugged at his lips as memories of last night came back to him. Despite his inexperience, he had brought her pleasure.

And he’d do it again as soon as she came back. He glanced at the door, but his attention snagged on the dresser.

Carnwennan.

He was out of the bed in seconds. Caly would never leave her knife behind unless by force. Shoving his legs into jeans, he tried to sense her, but he couldn’t get a lock on her through the murdering rage that took hold of him.

That left the
Between
.

Anger that he had allowed this to happen tightened its’ strangle hold on him. Anything was better than the petrifying fear that tried to take root. Bottling that anger, using it, he fell through space and landed with a jarring thud outside her house in the other world. The few who saw him ran. Ruman turned in a circle, searching for the familiar light of his charge.

Only to stop short to see her in the house behind him.

A snort of disbelief escaped, almost giddy with relief, and he shook his head at how tied up in knots she had him.

He reappeared in the bedroom and hurried to dress and catch up with her before she zipped off into danger. Knowing Caly, that would be the second someone turned their back and let her out of their sight.

A smile crept across his face, only to fade as reality seeped in a bit. The reality of how she’d move on after he was gone. Brie urged him to live his life while he could, but that was harder said than done.

Caly was his life. She was becoming his whole existence. As he looked around the room, he feared he wasn’t hers.

Slipping on his shoes, Ruman glanced at the dresser and Carnwennan. He looked up at the door, half-expecting Caly to rush inside and push him away, but the house remained quiet.

She trusted him.

The knowledge warmed him. It had damned well taken long enough.

Temptation whispered to him to inspect the blade that nearly caused her death. Take this chance to destroy it if he thought it could hurt her anymore. He rose and picked up the sheath, taking care not to touch the metal.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself taken from Caly’s bedroom to an unfamiliar stone passageway. He immediately missed the warmth and smell that was her.

Ah, shit. Caly was going to kill him. He had to get back before she found him gone.

“If it isn’t Caly’s little guardian demon.” Azazel appeared out of nowhere. His body relaxed, a lazy smile played about his face, but Ruman recognized those hard eyes that promised death for the unwary. He saw them in his own reflection.

When he would’ve demanded answers, caution held him back. With the demons closing in on Caly, he couldn’t afford to be reckless. He needed to survive unscathed to protect her.

That didn’t mean he had to bend over and take it. Ruman gripped the pommel of the dagger and unsheathed the blade. A slight burn zinged through his palm, and he gritted his teeth and bore it. Strands of power sunk deep in his arm, his muscles spasmed with the need to drop it, but he didn’t loosen his hold. He thought briefly of transporting home, but he couldn’t chance that the blade would remain behind if he did.

Azazel’s gaze lowered. “I see she’s trusted you with her dagger.” He paused, mockery in his eyes. “Or did she?”

Ruman tightened his jaw and refrained from saying anything. Caly would have his hide if she found out, but he’d be damned if he’d admit it to this bastard.

A cruel laugh echoed in the confined space. “Did your curiosity get the better of you? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He waggled a finger. “That has always been your problem, hasn’t it? I wonder how many times it’ll take for you to finally learn to leave things alone.”

Ruman narrowed his eyes but couldn’t refute his words. “What do you want?”

“Caly safe. You haven’t been taking very good care of her.” The Fallen Angel turned away and studied his collection of weapons, giving Ruman time to absorb the implications of his words. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Ruman didn’t spare them a glance, trying to match all the stories to the mysterious man before him. Some said he’d given up everything to guard humans, others said he fell out of favor and was sent here for punishment. Ruman wasn’t certain what to believe.

He knew one thing.

He didn’t trust him anywhere near his Caly.

“They’re unique like our girl.” Azazel eyes hardened. “You mustn’t allow her to be harmed.”

Azazel turned to leave. Incredulous, Ruman’s jaw dropped. “You summoned me to reprimand me?”

“You barely managed to survive the last battle. In fact, you died. Next time it might be her.” He spoke low, the barbs in his words pierced deep. “That’s not good enough. Do better.”

To find this man taking an interest in Caly’s welfare raised Ruman’s hackles. A man like him would destroy her. “She’s mine.”

Laughter rang off the walls. “Until you complete your duty. Then she’ll be alone.”

Ruman stormed forward with only one thought in his head; the bastard needed to learn his place. “You’ll not lay a hand on her. Ever.”

“Or what? You’ll be long gone. It will be her decision.”

“The hell it will.” Ruman tensed to swing, but couldn’t fight back the truth as much has he wanted to deny everything.

“Then do something about it.”

The soft command tore through his doubts. Something in the words diffused the anger. “How?”

“Love her. If you can make her love you, you might have a chance.”

“But—”

“No buts. Do you want to spend the rest of your life being with her or being the one watching her from a distance? Watching her love another man? Watching her hurt and not being there for her to turn to for help?”

Ruman wanted that so badly his heart rocked against his ribs. He tucked away his dislike and asked the question ricocheting around in his skull. “How do you make a woman fall in love?”

Azazel shook his head. “It’s different for you and Caly. You have it easier than most. Figure it out fast, as I doubt you have much time left.”

“What’s in this for you?” The blade relented a little in its IV of agony, leaving his arm numb and near useless. He slowly sheathed the weapon.

“If you fail, I’ll have my chance with Caly and a reprieve from my boredom.”

In a flash, the world shifted and he found himself on the front stoop of Caly’s house before he could pitch himself at the bastard.

He could do this. He could make Caly love him. All he needed to do was convince her that she couldn’t live without him.

But not if she saw him with her blade. He shoved the weapon in the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. He touched the knob, hesitated and took a deep breath.

The door opened easily under his hand. He stepped inside then pulled up short when he saw Jarred and Brie jump apart. From his flushed face and her swollen lips, Ruman could guess what they’d been doing.

“Brie?”

“Ah,” Jarred rubbed his chin, his stubble scratching harshly in the silence. “I better check on Henry and leave you two to chat.” Without looking him in the eyes, Jarred stalked off.

Ruman waited until Jarred disappeared then turned to Brie. With her chin raised, she reminded him so much of Caly and her stubbornness it tugged at his heart. “Brie.”