The Brightest Embers. Jeaniene Frost
His features hardened in a way that said he wasn’t listening. I started to shove past him, but he pushed me back and said a word in Demonish I’d never heard before.
Brutus snatched me around the waist and pulled me back against him. His arms crossed around my midsection when I tried to wrest away, and pounding against them was as effective as trying to chop down trees with my bare hands.
“Ten minutes,” Adrian said over my furious demands to be released. “If I’m not back by then, leave.”
With that, he disappeared into the staircase. I continued my struggles while cursing both Adrian and Brutus. The gargoyle whined as if in apology, but his unbreakable grip didn’t loosen. After a few minutes, I realized that all my struggles were doing was giving me a nice set of bruises.
Still, I wasn’t about to give up. I was destiny-bound to save people, dammit! Not to stand by and let others do the fighting for me. Brutus apparently couldn’t be berated into releasing me, but maybe there was another way.
“Who’s a good boy?” I suddenly asked, ceasing my struggles.
Brutus’s whine changed, sounding less sorry and more hopeful. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I also felt his back end start to shift from side to side. Over the past couple months, I’d found out that Brutus loved being praised, to the point where when he got lots of it, he fluttered his wings and shook his butt as if he were wagging an invisible tail. Sometimes, he did both things with such fervor, he nearly knocked himself over. Watching a huge, right-out-of-your-nightmares gargoyle do that was hilarious, yet now it might also be exactly what I needed.
“Whooooo’s a gooooooood boyyyy?” I said again, elongating my vowels and increasing my pitch to a baby-talk voice.
I definitely felt a wag this time, and his wings began to inch up as if he were a peacock about to display its feathers. I increased my compliments, telling Brutus that he was the cutest, smartest gargoyle who ever lived. That got me more butt-shakes and wing-fluffs, but not enough to do what I needed.
“You know what I’m going to do?” I crooned, adding in bribes. “I’m going to give you five, no, six, no, seven, yes, seven big pot roasts tonight! Because you’re the bestest, most beautiful Brutus, yes you are, yes you are!”
His whole body began to shake with joyous anticipation. He might not understand tons of English, but he knew the words pot roast. It was his favorite raw meat. His wings began to flutter frantically and his butt wagged so hard, he almost knocked himself off his feet. Most important, his grip loosened.
I slithered beneath his arms and ran for the door as fast as I could. Brutus lunged, but it was too late. His overly delighted state had distracted him, costing him precious seconds, so his talons ended up grasping only air as he tried to grab me. The narrow space in the stairwell was too small for his wide body to fit through.
“Sorry, boy!” I called out as I ran down the staircase.
His betrayed-sounding howl chased after me, making me feel guilty, but I’d make this up to Brutus later. Now I had to make sure that Adrian, Jasmine and Costa were okay. Our rooms were on the fifth floor, only three floors down from where I was. It shouldn’t take me long to get to them—
Pain erupted in my right hand. Then the braided brown rope of my tattoo began to change color, lightening to a beautiful golden shade. Seeing it, my heart began to pound.
Only one thing in the world caused my supernatural tattoo to change color and burn like it had suddenly caught fire, and that was the close proximity of a demon.
I GRABBED THE glowing etching and pulled. More pain shot through me, but I came away with a loop of rope as the ancient tattoo became as real as the danger I was in. I kept pulling, ignoring the increasing pain. By the time I reached the fifth floor, my whole arm throbbed, yet the entire length of the famed sling that David had used to slay the giant Goliath was now a real, tangible weapon.
A feminine scream caused panic to bolt through me. That sounded like Jasmine. I burst through the door leading to the fifth floor. As I ran down the hallway, I saw a large mirror propped against the wall. It hadn’t been there before, and since demons used mirrors as portals for travel, its presence was ominous.
In the short moment that I was distracted, a door opened and a guy pushed his room service cart right in front of me. I was running too fast to avoid it, and I hit it hard enough to knock it over. It fell with a crash, yet I barely registered that, or the startled yelp the hotel guest made. Something more important caught my eye.
The vase on the cart had been filled with decorative glass rocks, and those rocks were now scattered across the floor.
I snatched up as many as I could, not caring that I slashed my hands on the broken plates in my haste. I stuffed most of the rocks into my pockets, but I put one in the notch on my sling.
New crashing sounds and fresh screams turned my blood to ice. I ran toward the racket, wincing at how the other tattoo running along the length of my body now felt like it was burning, too. Moses’s staff, the second hallowed weapon that had melded into my flesh, must react to the presence of demons, too, yet I had no idea if it would manifest like the sling did. This was the first time I’d been near demons since I’d wielded it to close the gates between their realm and mine.
Adrian crashed through the wall about thirty feet ahead, grappling with someone whose long mass of reddish-black hair hid her face. I started to spin my sling. The unknown woman had to be a demon. A human or minion wouldn’t be able to take the punch he slammed into her, let alone to reciprocate with a block that knocked Adrian off his feet. She immediately jumped onto him, and I glimpsed a smile through her wild tangle of hair. Why did the demon look as if she were enjoying his fierce, bucking attempts to dislodge her...?
“Sonofabitch!” I spat, recognizing her.
I’d met this particular demon only once, but she was hard to forget, and that had more to do with how she’d been Adrian’s longtime girlfriend than it did with her looks. Some demons looked like normal people. Some appeared animalistic, right down to the cliché horns and hooves, and some, like Obsidiana, were so beautiful that it actually hurt a little to look at them.
“Get off him, you bitch!” I shouted.
She finally noticed me, and Obsidiana shot me a single, malevolent glare before jumping off Adrian. He seemed as surprised by her instant compliance as I was, but he leapt up just as fast, going right for her throat. He’d ripped it out the last time they’d fought, yet Obsidiana must’ve remembered that.
She dodged him with lightning-like swiftness, using his momentum to spin him into the wall. It dented from how hard he hit it, and before I could release the stone from my rapidly spinning sling, she had Adrian in front of her like a shield. Her blood-red nails shot out to the length of knives, and she jabbed them into Adrian’s throat.
“One more step, Davidian, and I rip out his jugular,” she said in a purr, her distinctive accent the same as Adrian’s.
I tried not to think about everything else they had in common. She’d been Adrian’s lover for longer than I’d been alive, and I wasn’t too proud to admit that I was ragingly jealous of her. But not enough to risk Adrian’s life. I lowered the sling and didn’t move. Obsidiana raked her topaz-colored gaze over me, taking me in from head to feet.
“Is this the real you?” she asked, arching a brow.
“In the flesh,” I said, arching my brow right back at her.
The other times Obsidiana had seen me, I’d been disguised by Archon glamour. I wasn’t now, and as her expression turned contemptuous, you’d think I had morphed into a dead mouse that some alley cat had dropped at her feet. Well, screw her. As I’d told her once, beauty faded, but Evil Bitch was forever.
“I can’t believe