Black Widow Demon

Demon Outlaws - 2

by

Paula Altenburg

For Simme, Hessel, and Gerjan.

Chapter One

Tidy towns often concealed dirty secrets. And this small mining town was too tidy for Blade’s taste.

Nestled among the foothills of the Godseeker Mountains, it suffered from too-uniform construction and a general lack of aesthetic design. But after several months of crossing the desert alone, Blade’s standards were not all that high. He wanted a bath, a hot meal, and a soft bed.

A bed he could wake up in alone. The two-foot goldthief—one of the more dangerous variety of snakes in these parts—he had found in his bedroll that morning had been an unwelcome surprise. Fortunately, Blade was neither a restless sleeper nor easily startled, and he possessed a great deal of natural patience. Once the sun came up on the desert, the well-rested serpent had slithered off on its own without incident.

Blade continued to study the mining settlement deep in the valley below him from an outcropping of weathered sandstone. Layers of desert dirt coated the rooftops, painting the entire town a dull shade of gray. Beyond it, the hills rose to flat peaks of a vast rocky mountain range, sparsely forested with juniper and yellow pine. Narrow ribbons of silvery water streamed down to filter through sand dunes on the valley floor and irrigate the town’s gardens, ones that were now spent and shriveled by this time of year. Behind and above, past the top of the mesa, stretched the desert. Beneath where Blade stood, a lone open wagon hauled by a sway-backed, listless hross clattered along a dirt trail that broadened into a street where it met town limits.

This bold new settlement had sprung up arrogantly close to what had, until recently, been demon territory. It possessed no protective ramparts, something Blade thought a serious oversight on the part of its founders. He had owned a saloon in Freetown, a trading outpost in the very center of demon territory, and he knew something of human nature and desperation. For more than three hundred years immortal goddesses and demons had used the world for their pleasure. Demons might be gone now, banished by the Demon Lord’s own daughter, yet any number of mortal dangers remained.

When he considered his near-empty pack, however, and that this was the first sign of civilization he’d come across in several weeks, its underwhelming neatness and lack of protection were not enough to deter him. He patted his clothing to confirm that his knives were secure and at hand. He’d been away from the Godseeker Mountains for ten years. He doubted if he would be recognized here, or that it would mean much to anyone anymore if he were.

He was bone-deep weary of death and destruction and of the strong who preyed on the weak. The past was behind him. He was looking ahead. He was no longer a saloonkeeper, an assassin, or a cripple. He was a far cry from the helpless, abused boy he’d once been long ago. He would be none of those things again.

Deep within these mountains was a boundary that the goddesses had created to keep demons confined to the desert regions. He would test that boundary and see what, if anything, lay beyond—if any of the Old World remained or if it had been completely decimated during the Demon Occupation more than three hundred years earlier. He thought that just once in his life he would like to see the sea, something he’d only ever read of in books.

A slight breeze stirred the warm, late-afternoon air and he made a face—he stank, no doubt about it. Dust caked the thighs of his denim trousers and stiffened the broad brim of his hat. If he did not get that bath, he could forget about finding a hot meal and soft bed. Although waking up alone would be guaranteed.

As he turned, he detected movement at the far edge of the town, near the dunes. From this distance it was difficult to say for certain, but it looked as if they were building a very large bonfire. He wondered what they were celebrating.

Shrugging his pack higher on his shoulders, he picked his way off the outcropping. Once on the valley floor, he carefully circled the town to approach via the main street that cut through its heart.

A neatly lettered sign, not yet worn by wind and blowing sand, proclaimed it Goldrush.

…

Fair trial, be damned. Without the arrival of some sort of miracle, come nightfall the townspeople intended to burn Raven at the stake as a spawn.

She sat in a makeshift jail cell on the edge of a rough wooden bed, its wool blanket scratchy beneath her flattened palms and her feet dangling well off the whitewashed pine floor. The jailor’s chair and a desk with a crooked leg were the only other furnishings in the room and were out of her reach on the other side of the iron bars.

For the hundredth time she mentally raced through her options. All of them involved killing her stepfather. But her first attempt at that was what had gotten her into this trouble.

She toppled to her side and tucked her clasped hands beneath her cheek, staring at the bars. It was his own fault that she’d stabbed him. He had slipped his hand down the front of her dress, and when she defended herself, he’d had the nerve to blame her for his wrongdoing. He claimed she had tempted him.

Then, he’d told others her mother had slept with a demon and that Raven was nothing more than spawn. Fire was the test that would prove it. If she burned, she was innocent.

The injustice of her situation quivered through her slight frame. She was not a whore, and she would not become one for him. She’d rather be burned as a spawn. If her friend Creed knew how her stepfather had touched her, he would kill him on her behalf. But he wasn’t here to help her now. And unfortunately for her, her accuser was the Godseeker who represented the law in this town. It was his right to test her. No one would come to her aid.

Time crept by as the shadows deepened.

The front door of the jailhouse creaked open and she sat up with a start, her heart hammering in her chest. She blinked against the sudden stream of light from outdoors.

Justice appeared before her—Justice in the form of her stepfather, and not any sudden righting of wrongs. Hate unfurled in her stomach at the sight of him.

She rose from the bed and stood at the bars of her cell. His gait was stiff as he walked into the room to set a lantern on the desk. She had jabbed the knife into his thigh and the fact that the wound pained him filled her with joy. Although, he had been lucky—that was not where she’d aimed.

“There is still time to change your mind,” he said to her, speaking softly so as not to be overheard by anyone lurking outside the jailhouse door. “I can withdraw the charges. I can help you exorcise the demon in you.”

Raven met his eyes. It was a talent of hers that she could sometimes read people’s darkest thoughts, particularly when emotions ran high, and his mind was darker than most.

She no longer had any reason to disguise her contempt for him. “You would love to see me humiliated, stripped naked, and flogged to within an inch of my life. Then you would take me. Afterward, you would drink my blood because you believe what it contains can give you a demon’s strength.”

His face flushed with anger. He had been a handsome man once. Still was, in fact, despite the silver threads lacing his brown hair and the deep creases around his eyes and mouth. He had a presence about him that commanded a high level of respect. But Raven saw the ugliness simmering beneath the surface. Her mother had died a broken woman because of him.

Hatred and fear fed her strength. She gripped the cell bars so tight, she knew when she released them the imprints of her fingers would remain.

You could break free if you choose.

That inner demon voice terrified her far more than the man who faced her.

Her stepfather’s eyes followed hers to the bars that contained her. “That’s it, little demon,” he taunted, his words soft. “Show the world what you are. What the blood you say I’d love to drink contains. How far do you think you could run then? How safe from the Godseekers’ assassins would you be?”

That was what stopped her. She did not want people to think of her as demon spawn. She did not want to be hunted, nor for Justice to be proven right in anyone’s eyes. She had to find another way to escape.

And when she did, she would kill him.

“There are some who suspect you for what you are,” she said in return. “Are you so confident of what I am? If I do burn, more will begin to doubt you. They will watch you.” Her glance flickered to the amulet he wore around his throat. “And eventually, when the goddesses fail to return, no matter how many so-called spawn you torture and kill in their name, the people will turn from you.”

Justice hooked the wooden jailor’s chair with his foot and swung it around, favoring his injured leg, then sat with his arms folded across the chair’s spindled back as if he had all the time in the world. He planted his chin on the crook of one elbow and studied her.

She had never fully understood the way he watched her until a few short nights ago. Now, she read raw hunger in his expression and thoughts. Her dinner rebelled at the memory of his touch on her bare flesh.

“It seems people have already turned from you,” he observed.

He, too, spoke the truth. Raven had not believed that people she’d known her whole life would not speak out against his plan. She had hoped they would see the wrongness of it long before now. Sundown, however, had already passed.

Despair settled in with the night. No one had come to her rescue. Creed, her best hope, was in training at the Temple of Immortal Right and oblivious to her situation. She had only herself now. But that meant releasing a dark and dangerous presence inside her she had never before allowed to be free. There would be no turning back from it if she did.

The ugliness of her stepfather’s thoughts decided it for her, though. She would not burn, and she would not live in fear. She would not be broken by him as her mother was.

She would save herself.

She wore the same dress he’d deemed indecent two nights prior when the nightmare began. Tracing a finger along its prim neckline, she let her eyelids droop to examine him from beneath a dark fringe of thick, curling lashes. Her golden-toned skin gleamed in the lamplight as she pressed against the bars of the cell.

Justice swallowed, then with unsteady fingers, gripped the amulet he wore around his neck. Once, a long time ago, he had been a goddess’s favorite. The amulet she’d given him protected him from the seduction of another immortal and warned him when he was in the presence of a full-blooded demon.

But it did nothing to protect Raven from him.

“Whore,” he spat at her. With that single utterance, she knew she had lost.

“Enjoy your final moments of glory,” she said, dropping her hand to her side. “Women can’t all be whores and spawn, and Faith will not remain silent forever. Not after tonight.”

It had been a wild guess on her part, based on what she’d read of his ugliest desires, but her words struck home. His face reddened, then paled. Fear flamed in her chest—not for herself, but for the frail, timid woman she had named.

What had she done?

“Undertaker!” Justice shouted, half turning toward the door. It opened at once, and a tall, gaunt man stuck his head into the room. “It is time.”

Raven watched her stepfather lift a heavy black key from a hook on the wall behind the desk, then move to insert it in the lock on the cell door. She held her breath, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Justice drew his hand back without unlocking the cell door and regarded her thoughtfully. He turned to the battered desk, then rooted around in a drawer. He hauled out a shining pair of handcuffs crafted from a silver metal that had been mined in the nearby mountains and hardened with a special alloy. “Hold out your hands.”

She did not want to be bound. “No.”

“If you do not”—his tone was harsh and deliberate, his eyes hard—“I will burn the jail down around you.”

She felt the truth in him. He would do it. Stunned into obedience, she held out her hands, and he snapped the cuffs in place. Then, he opened the cell door.

Undertaker reached in to capture her arm.

“Don’t touch her!” Justice snapped, slapping the other man’s hand aside. Undertaker turned to him, his bushy black eyebrows raised in silent surprise. “She’s a spawn. If you touch her, she can claim you.”

The lie came so easily to him.

And yet, it was not quite a lie. Raven could not claim a man, but she could cloud his thoughts long enough to defend herself from him. Justice had the knife wound in his leg to prove it.

“Ask him how he knows that,” she said to Undertaker, her gaze never leaving her stepfather. “Ask him how he touched me and for what purpose.”

Justice slapped her hard across the face, and her head snapped back. Pain blossomed as the world darkened.

“You disrespect your mother’s memory when you speak like this. Columbine was an innocent, lured by a demon—just as you tried to lure me. She raised you to be better.”

Raven’s eyes watered, the pain now more than physical, but she refused to shed tears. He had not married her mother out of love or respect for her innocence. She had been a beautiful woman, a master artisan, and an asset for him to own, nothing more. And he had destroyed her.

Raven touched the back of one shackled wrist to the corner of her mouth and wiped away a trickle of blood. It left a dark smear on her skin in the fading light. Undertaker had given her candy when she’d been a child, yet now he’d neither made a move to protect her from Justice’s blow nor uttered one word of protest against it. Pity for him displaced the hurt in her heart. He was simpleminded and easily led. She read no malice toward her on his part.

Her chin went up, and she gazed steadily at both men. “There is no need for either of you to touch me. I will walk on my own.” She displayed all the dignity she possessed as she crossed the small jailhouse and stepped into the cool embrace of the night.

Inside, she was shaking with anger. She did not want to die. But living would come at a heavy price she had no wish to pay.

…

He had been wrong. No celebration was planned in Goldrush.

With his angular face freshly shaven, his shoulder-grazing black hair damp and tied back with a worn leather thong, Blade noticed the increased activity in the dusty, darkening street the instant he stepped from the bathhouse.

He’d bought a change of clothes to wear, leaving what he already owned to be laundered at the rooming house where he’d rented the night’s lodgings. A wool-lined coat of soft, supple leather fell to his hips, allowing for easy access to his knives. It was his one major investment against the cold that ruled the mountains.

While he was happy to be clean again, he disliked the feel of his knives in their new and unfamiliar hiding places. He especially disliked it now, when night was falling and people had gathered in tight little groups, their hushed voices filled with unmistakable tension.

Years of training—received long ago but never forgotten—had him react to it out of instinct. He inched the knife in his sleeve closer to his palm as he pressed deeper into the shadows. Invisibility was an assassin’s greatest weapon.

He eavesdropped on the conversation of three men who were standing around the corner of the building from him, on the street.

“She’s always been strange.”

“Perhaps,” a second conceded. “But being strange does not make her spawn.”

Blade’s interest spiked. The goddesses had disappeared from the world nearly thirty years before. More recently, demons had been scoured from the earth. During the years in between, the shape-shifting demons had ruled the desert, luring mortal women to them for pleasure. Half-demon spawn, like their fathers, were male—monsters born in demon form to mortal mothers who had not survived their delivery. Demons, in turn, killed spawn at birth. Blade knew of only one true, living female spawn in existence—and her mother had been a goddess, not a mortal woman.

And Airie, who was half demon and half goddess, was hardly a monster. Filled with compassion, she had healed his crippled leg and given him his life back. He owed her a debt he could never repay.

“She bewitched my son,” the first man complained, defending his stance. “If not for Creed’s interference, he’d be her slave now. But with Creed gone, I don’t know what will happen to him. He has started to follow her again.”

“Creed thrashed your son to within an inch of his life for following her around like a pup in the first place,” a third man said. “He claimed your son tried to touch her against her will.”

“Creed spread that lie because he is already bewitched by her.”

“If he is bewitched, how could he leave her for training?”

“Who says no to assassin trainers when they are recruiting?”

No one could deny the truth of that observation, Blade thought. Most of those who declined recruitment as a Godseeker assassin ended up dead.

The second man spoke up again. “I’m not certain luring a man for pleasure warrants burning a woman at the stake.”

The third man murmured an uneasy agreement.

“It’s not the pleasure part that warrants it,” the first one insisted. “It’s the bewitching. Raven enslaves men. You’ve seen how the young ones look at her, how she pretends not to notice. People always said her mother slept with a demon,” he added. “But when it was a girl that was born and the birth didn’t kill her, everyone thought they were wrong.” A note of worry crept into his tone. “Who knows how many more spawn there might be, born in mortal form instead of as monsters? What if there are more like her?”

Blade, from his hiding place in the shadows, propped his broad shoulders against the wooden wall of a building and tipped his head back to stare at the emerging stars, lost in thought.

Women had only the protection of men in this world. Some men were better protectors than others. Many were no protection at all. But who was he to judge? He had once been an assassin himself, although he had never worked in the service of the Godseekers. He had been strictly for hire, killing men, women, and children alike, without the luxury and freedom of choice. Once he had reached a level of skill that let him name his own price, he had become more selective in the work he accepted.

Even at his lowest and most desperate, however, he had never deliberately made anyone suffer. Whether the woman named Raven was spawn or not, he wanted no part of this.

What was happening here was not his problem.

But to burn a woman at the stake over something so natural as sex?

Blade thought of Ruby and the other two women who had worked independently as whores in the saloon he’d once owned, and his gut knotted. Ruby’s face in particular haunted him. In his own way, he had loved her. He did still, and a part of him most likely always would.

He rubbed at his thigh, where a demon in its monster form had once torn and eaten his flesh, then left him in the desert for dead. He hated demons. He had not yet made up his mind about spawn, if more of them did exist, because while he was grateful to Ruby and his friend Hunter for saving his life, it was Hunter’s wife Airie who had given it back to him.

The men’s voices drifted off, and Blade mentally ran through the position and feel of his pocketed knives before pushing away from the wall and moving silently through the shadows. He followed the crowd, knowing that he could not let this unknown woman suffer when he had the means to end it quickly for her.

He was careful not to hurry or look overly interested in what was going on around him. Strangers came and went in places like this, seeking work in the newer mines when the old ones tapped out, but he did not want to be memorable to the locals. He particularly did not want to draw the attention of the Godseeker responsible for this judgment. His relationship with the Godseekers as a whole was precarious. Some of them would consider him a deserter.

He should mind his own business and be on his way.

The night air blowing off the ice-tipped mountains carried the first hints of winter, and Blade was grateful he had purchased the warm leather coat. At least he had money and his knives on him because he doubted if he’d be able to collect the remainder of his belongings after what he was planning to do tonight. While the knives were his weapon of choice, he would feel the loss of his rifle and crossbow equally as much, perhaps more.

The town’s single, very long main street followed the gentle curve of the land. As the crowd surged toward what passed for a jail—at least according to the creaking sign swinging by cast-iron hooks from a roof extension over the steps—a slight figure stepped lightly through its open door. She held her shackled hands at her neat waist, keeping them partially hidden in the folds of her dress. Short, tousled black ringlets streaked with red glinted in the torchlight, the curls framing high cheekbones and a delicate face. Her gaze scanned the top of the crowd. Blade, near the back, felt a sharp jolt of awareness as her eyes drifted over him, then came back for a second before moving on again when she did not recognize him.

He could scarcely believe that this tiny, lost waif of a woman-child, trying so hard to hide her fright from the crowd, had been labeled an evil, demon seductress.

Her ankle turned over on the first step and she wobbled, unable to maintain her balance with her hands bound. Her shoulder struck one of the sturdy beams supporting the roof extension as someone in the small crowd thrust out a hand to steady her. Blade, too, took an involuntary step forward.

“Don’t touch her! If you do, she’ll own you,” barked a man as he emerged from the doorway behind her. He had a slight stiffness in his stance and the trace of a limp. His hard eyes sparked with arrogance and authority.

This, Blade decided, was the Godseeker responsible for judgment in this town. He remembered the type well and despised them to this day.

A taller, thinner man followed the Godseeker, ducking his head as he, too, passed through the door. Both men dwarfed the woman, making her appear even smaller and more fragile in comparison.

The crowd swarmed onward, leaving a small amount of open space where the trio could walk. People fell silent as the enormity of what was about to happen finally settled in. Yet still, no one protested.

Blade studied the scattered rooftops, fewer now and too far apart for his purpose, then the surrounding area for some sort of shelter that might hide what he was about to do. He needed to be close to her but not too close. He intended to escape afterward.

The woman made no sound as she was led to the carefully constructed weave of shredded kindling and splits of knotted pine. Crude stairs ran to a platform built on top of the weave. From the platform rose a thick stake of sturdy desert ironwood. The platform was too high for him to have a good target. He would need to stand too far back in order to gain enough throwing leverage. He might be able to manage it, but he couldn’t guarantee his aim from such a great distance.

Blade looked around. Crumbled rocks and crushed boulders had been piled near the side of a road that was little more than a trail, as if a site were being cleared for new construction. Blade inched his way around the back of the crowd, sliding into the shadows to reemerge near the rock pile. It was far from stable, and as he clambered to the top bits of loose gravel and dirt trickled in tiny landslides behind him, but the larger stones held firm beneath his weight.

He had a far better view from this height and proximity. From a distance she had been an attractive woman. Up close, she was stunning. She had beautifully shaped eyes, lined liberally with long lashes that swept her cheeks when she closed them. Gold-toned skin and full, curving lips distracted him further. He could see why she had been accused of being a spawn. Demons in mortal form were considered irresistible to mortals. And demons had pursued mortal women for their remarkable and unusual beauty, so their offspring would be astonishing.

Blade was not easily impressed by the physical appearance of a woman, however, regardless of the attraction that seared through him. It was her dignity and refusal to plead for her life or appeal to the crowd that truly arrested him.

Someone lit the torches that had been strapped to long poles embedded in the earth around the platform. Blade spotted a coil of rope near the woman’s feet. She had not yet been strapped to the stake, yet she stood ramrod straight and without support. He silently applauded her for refusing to give in to the fear she no doubt was feeling. He slid one of his knives into his palm and waited for his opportunity. He couldn’t save her, but he could at least allow her to keep her dignity intact. No one deserved a death such as this.

The Godseeker stood at the front of the platform and lifted his hands for silence. The light from the torches danced in his eyes. When he spoke, the effect of his words mesmerized the audience.

“For a long time I’ve been receiving warnings about my daughter’s behavior. Mothers and fathers alike have told me that she’s tempted their sons. They expressed concern for how she dresses and that she doesn’t show enough respect for the way her own mother raised her. She’s too free with her smiles, provoking jealousy and competition among our men.”

A few in the crowd murmured agreement. Many more remained silent. Blade could almost enjoy the Godseeker’s eloquent speech if the outcome were not so sobering. Women were a rare and valuable commodity in this part of the world, but when it came to disputes over sex, they were always to blame.

Blade weighed the knife in his hand, undecided. Perhaps he had read the situation incorrectly. If the Godseeker was the girl’s father, then his plan might be to auction her off to the highest bidder, the fire being a lesson to those gathered and nothing more. But why, then, accuse her of being spawn, which would only diminish her value?

The Godseeker’s next words recaptured Blade’s attention.

“Two nights ago,” the man said, his gaze sweeping the crowd, “she tried to tempt me, her own father. When I resisted, she stabbed me.”

An accusation of incest, expressed so openly, was more serious again. Blade reassessed the woman. He had once owned a saloon and lived with experienced whores. Despite the cut of her dress she did not strike him at all as a temptress, experienced or not. Besides, if she’d had her choice of young men, as the Godseeker insinuated, why would she choose to tempt this one? Of the two of them, the woman and the Godseeker, who would prove the greater temptation to whom?

Blade’s eyes narrowed as he considered shifting his target and planting his knife in the Godseeker’s heart instead. But it would serve no purpose. Life was not guaranteed to be fair. No matter what he did, the woman was as good as dead. He would keep her from suffering, that was all. He refused to feel pity or guilt for a situation he had not created.

It was not like him to hesitate this way. He knew what needed to be done. He pushed sentiment aside and drew back his arm.

The Godseeker, however, had one more revelation for the gathered crowd. He held up the stone he wore on a chain around his neck. Blade, who had grown up in the Godseeker Mountains, recognized it and its purpose. The goddesses had given these amulets to their favorites so that other goddesses would know the men had already been claimed. The stones also warned of the presence of demons, helpful to anyone attempting to cross through demon territory. The amulet’s owner could make a fortune in trade by going places most men would not dare.

“When she tried to tempt me my amulet flared, marking her as a demon. Because of her, and others like her, the goddesses will remain afraid to return. Demon spawn are an abomination that must be wiped from this world. For this, she’s been sentenced to a trial by fire so that the world can see her for what she is. If she fails it, she’ll face full Godseeker judgment and execution.”

And if she passed the trial, she’d still be dead—but in a slow and horrifying manner. Blade saw no hope for her. He waited for the Godseeker to move so he could get a clear shot.

The Godseeker bent to collect the rope at the woman’s feet. As he did, she brought her bound hands over his head to clasp the base of his skull, braced her elbows against his collarbone, and brought up one knee to connect with his face. She ground her bare heel into his thigh before releasing her grip on him, his roars of pain indicating to Blade that she’d targeted the stab wound already administered.

Somehow she had managed to free her hands. The cuffs, no longer linked, gleamed silver on her narrow wrists in the torchlight. In a flurry of skirts and wild, bouncing curls, she spun away from the Godseeker’s lunging fingers to leap off the back of the platform and vanish into the night.

Blade froze, as stunned as the rest of the crowd. If she’d had any hope or intention of disproving her father’s accusations that she was spawn, she had just failed. Miserably. There could be little doubt in their minds now as to what she was.

He dropped his arm and slid his knife back into his sleeve.

On the other hand, she was still alive.

Chapter Two

Raven ran for several hours in the pitch black of night, backtracking through the scrub and the trees until she was confident she had eluded her pursuers.

She braced one hand against the gnarled trunk of a juniper, catching her breath in short, pain-filled gasps. She had better than average strength and endurance, but it was not unlimited. Her bare feet were dirty and sore. Her chest ached. Cold seeped through her skin as her strained muscles tightened in the biting wind.

Yet she had escaped. Awareness of the fact filled her with elation, overriding her discomfort. Once she could breathe easily again, she worked at removing the silver bracelets still surrounding each wrist. Her fingers, naturally strong, had grown tougher from years of working with hot metal and gemstones, and the clasps soon snapped.

Wolven howled, their high-pitched, eerie cries echoing through the hills, and she started, the remnants of the broken cuffs dropping from her fingers to the ground. She’d given no thought to animal predators, and these ones, genetically engineered a long time ago as a cross between wolves and mountain lions in an ill-fated attempt to fight demons, were more fearsome than most.

Raven, however, knew wolven were the least of her problems. The rush of adrenaline-fueled euphoria passed, and the precariousness of her situation slowly crashed in around her. This world was a dangerous place for women on their own. They were seen as the possessions of men. But she had nowhere to go, no one who would dare help her, and no idea which direction to take.

As she ran, she had headed toward the petrified sandstone foothills and the snow-tipped mountains rather than into the desert. She stared at those distant peaks, faint, whitish-blue shadows in the night. Creed was somewhere in those mountains, but she did not know how to find him. No one other than Godseekers dared enter the Temple of Immortal Right where the assassins trained. Not if they wished to survive.

That meant it was the logical place for her to go. She was fast, strong, and smart. If she could get in alive, Creed could protect her. He would know what to do.

But she needed to find it.

Resting her back against the juniper she slid to the ground and drew her knees to her chest, burrowing her arms between her thighs for warmth. Night pressed in on all sides. Although she would never admit it out loud, not even to Creed, she had grown afraid of the dark. Where once it had been a haven, the blackness now brought nothing but nightmares.

Her life, which had never been easy, had gone wrong in other, even more bewildering ways. Ten years ago, along with many people from the hometown of her childhood, she and her mother had followed Justice from the mountains to the edge of the desert on his quest to reestablish Old World mines and create a new order of Godseekers. Creed—several years older than Raven and always protective—had followed for her sake and her mother’s, not out of any sense of duty to Justice or love of mining.

While Justice had always been abusive to them, Raven and her mother had been master artisans. The jewelry they’d crafted was sought out by traders from the four corners of the world, and their work had been valuable enough to him that they had not feared for their lives. All of that had changed six months ago, at the same time as the departure of the demons. Now her mother was dead, and Creed no longer here to help her. But only because he did not know what was happening. She would find him, and as he always did, he would make things right.

The idea of seeing her old friend and protector again gave Raven renewed hope and equal determination. Perhaps she could become an assassin, too. Creed was persuasive, with an amiable manner that inspired trust in others. He would speak to the trainers on her behalf and convince them to take her in.

She rested her cheek on one knee and assessed her situation as matter-of-factly as possible. First, she would have to kill Justice. He would know she’d turn to Creed. She had threatened it often enough, and Justice had always been cautious of him. He also knew where the Godseeker assassins’ temple was while she did not. If he got there before she did, she would have no hope at all.

She might find some clue to its location among Justice’s belongings. She also had other things to collect. With no food, shelter, weapons, or decent clothing, heading into the mountains would be suicide, and Goldrush was the only place within miles to collect what she needed.

She would gather the necessities first, and then she would kill Justice. Thanks to the backtracking she’d done in an attempt to throw off her pursuers, she was not all that far from home. Her personal belongings would be easy enough to recover while Justice and his men spent the remainder of the night searching for her. Justice would not give up. She clenched her icy hands into fists as she stood. No one would expect her to return, and daylight was hours away yet.

The walk back to town seemed endless. Deep shadows thrown by the stars and moon consumed all that they touched, and Raven, afraid of being lost to those shadows as well, skirted their edges until she reached the town’s boundary shortly before daybreak.

The world was a dark and silent place in the hours between the yawning of the moon and the rising of the morning sun. No longer able to avoid the shadows, she slipped as quickly as possible through them until she reached the house she had shared with Justice.

A house, she thought. Never a home. She was free now to do as she wished. Finally.

She eased open the window to her bedroom, then, hoisting herself onto her palms, swung one leg over the sill. She waited, half in and half out, listening intently for any sounds of movement within, but the house was empty.

She lowered herself into the room as the familiar scents of furniture polish and rose oil spun memories of her mother. Fond ones, from before she had been beaten into submission by an abusive husband.

Raven took a step toward the heavy cedar wardrobe that rested against the wall facing the canopied bed. She did not need light to navigate her own bedroom.

Something delicate crushed beneath her foot, and startled, her breath caught. She had left nothing on the floor in front of the window. Certainly nothing of glass.

She took another step. More glass crackled.

As her vision adjusted to the gloom, she paid more attention to her surroundings. Her gaze swept from wall to wall. Familiar shapes presented themselves but in odd locations. The wardrobe sprawled facedown on the floor, smashed to pieces as if someone had taken an ax to it. The same with her bed. It was tipped on its side, the mattress torn apart. Shredded clothing littered every surface in the room. Precious trinkets—some her first works of art, others small gifts crafted for her when she was a child by the mother who’d once loved her—lay shattered and broken beneath her feet on the polished hardwood floor.

This destruction was not done in retaliation for her escape. He’d had no time. This had to have happened well before last night’s judgment. If she had come home with him instead, as he’d wanted, this was to be a message to her that she could not disobey him without repercussion.

Lifting the ragged remains of a soft, creamy undergarment, she let the sheer fabric drift through her fingers. He knew how much her artist’s soul liked pretty, feminine things. She dropped the shreds of brushed silk to the floor and dusted her palms, shuddering. She would show the bastard that she could live without trivial things. And that she was not afraid of him.

Nothing of any use or value to her was left undamaged. She moved into the hall and headed for Justice’s bedroom, two doors down from hers. The single-story house was new, like everything else in the settlement, although better constructed than most. The bedrooms sat at the back while the parlor, kitchen, dining room, and Justice’s private office faced the main street.

She hated entering his private bedroom, even now, with him away. Plainly furnished, it stank of his evil. Having no desire to linger, she went straight to the bed and dropped to her hands and knees, fumbling beneath it for the locked box she knew he kept there. She dragged it carelessly toward her by its leather handle. Although small, its considerable weight left a long, deep scratch on the wood floor. She twisted the lock off using her bare hands and demon strength, mangling it with deep satisfaction.

The box contained a significant quantity of gold coin, mined in the Godseeker Mountains and minted by Justice’s own goldsmiths. The coin in it was not what she was after, although she scooped a few pieces into her pockets out of common sense practicality.

Her fingers closed around a simple, smooth amulet crafted from red desert varnish. It had been her mother’s most prized possession in the early, pre-Justice days. She had once told Raven that it kept her safe and made her feel happy. Justice had taken it from her years ago, after the first time he beat her.

That was when Raven’s own dreams began. Back then, her childish, artistic imagination had created a world she could hide in at night where she, too, could be safe. Now that demons had found it, though, that world was no longer a haven for her.

Neither was this one.

While the amulet had no real value or purpose, it was a connection to her mother that Raven refused to be parted from. She slipped the thin gold chain over her head and left the discarded box open on the floor beside the bed. She had one more thing to retrieve in here. Along with the knife she had used to protect herself against Justice, Creed had given her a bow and quiver of arrows. She was out of practice, but all she needed was one clear shot.

She stood on a chair to remove a loose panel from the bedroom ceiling. This had been one of her favorite secrets, knowing she’d hidden something in Justice’s room and that he would never find it because he was too arrogant to consider the possibility. She lifted the bow and quiver from their hiding place. She did not bother to replace the panel.

Conscious of the passing time and encroaching dawn, she moved on to his office. Within minutes she realized she would not find the information she needed. She did not have enough time. She’d have to find Creed some other way.

She went to the kitchen to raid the icebox and cupboards. Bread and cheese went into a burlap sack, along with some cold, leftover meat. Then, slinging the sack over her shoulder to rest alongside the bow and the quiver, she returned to her bedroom and departed the house the same way she had entered.

…

On a small, uneven hill above the Godseeker’s house, Blade shifted position in his hiding place and watched as the condemned woman eased open a window and slipped inside.

He had been here for hours, and satisfaction coursed through him that he’d read her boldness correctly. Common sense had dictated that she would be back. Regardless of whether she headed into the desert or the mountains, she’d need food and protective clothing, something more than the thin dress she wore, in order to survive.

Her name was Raven, and the Godseeker, as it turned out, was not her father but her stepfather. While there was little love for the man in Goldrush he was both respected and feared, and that she had stood fast against him intrigued Blade. He was not without sympathy for her situation. He understood feelings of impotence all too well. It gave him an instinctive dislike of people who abused their authority.

He wondered what she planned to do next. Morbid curiosity kept him from leaving Goldrush before he found out. His search for the goddess boundary could wait a while longer.

He glanced at the dark, colorless sky, its thin edges showing traces of approaching dawn. The search party would soon be returning after a long and fruitless night. They would be tired and not in good humor. Her escape had been spectacular, and it would be a shame for her to be recaptured because of carelessness on her part. Once she had what she needed he would make certain she was not seen or followed. Then he would be on his own way and forget about her.

Blade waited for her to finish her errand, ignoring the crick in his neck. Within a short period of time she reemerged, her short, glossy black ringlets bobbing. She bent her head to keep an eye on the ground as she dropped from the low window ledge. Pausing barely long enough to see if she had been observed, she lifted her chin and brushed the unruly curls off her face with impatient fingers.

The shackles were gone, he had already noticed, and although the day had not yet fully commenced, he could now distinguish a few more things about her appearance in the expanding light. Her feet were still bare, and she had not retrieved a coat and practical clothing more suited for travel. A single sack hung from one slender shoulder, a bow and quiver of arrows from the other.

Then rather than heading away from town as she should, she took off at a slow run in the same direction the search parties had gone in the wee hours of the night.

Not much puzzled Blade, but this woman was a mystery to him. He could not begin to imagine what logic provoked her. She’d had an opportunity to gather her belongings and thumb her nose at the Godseeker by making good her escape—for the second time in one night. Instead, she was walking straight back into danger.

He shook his head as she disappeared from sight. Twice now, he had gone out of his way to try to help her, and it had proven pointless. He would not do so a third time. He started to rise from his hiding place, to slip away and distance himself from this entire situation, when he stopped. Pieces of the puzzle continued to torment him.

Why had she not changed her clothes or packed more belongings?

Again, his curiosity and draw to this woman’s audacity won out. He shot a glance at the slate-gray horizon, then at the deserted house. He only had a few moments to learn more.

He jumped from his hiding place and skidded on his heels down the slope until he reached level ground, then dashed the last few feet to the house. He peered in the window she had not bothered to close.

The light was gloomy but adequate. The muscle in his jaw worked as he surveyed the devastation of the room and the torn clothing. Not much wonder she had not changed her dress—she had nothing left to wear. His face hardened as he reconsidered her earlier body language. She had been angrier coming out of the house than going in, her movements jerky, quick and impatient. More puzzle pieces clicked into place, along with a growing certainty. She intended to kill the Godseeker.

It was what he would do in her situation.

Part of him cheered her on while another part continued to question her sanity. A third part, and the one he found most difficult to ignore, wondered what exactly the man had done to her before he accused her of being demon spawn and had her arrested. How far had he been tempted, and what had he taken from her?

Blade’s lip curled in disgust. The man called himself her father. She should have been able to rely on him for protection, yet it was obvious she had no one to rely on but herself in this town. His own morals were far from high, but as a child he, too, had been in a similar situation, beaten and abused by an uncle. No one had come to his aid either. He could not help but feel for her. Neither could he forget how he’d felt when her eyes had settled on him outside the jailhouse.

Blade was normally much better than this at suppressing useless feelings.

Lost in thought he moved away from the window, following the path she had taken. She needed someone to help her, whether she wanted it or not. This was not a woman’s world. No matter how deserved her stepfather’s death might be, if she killed a Godseeker, the next search for her would not be as halfhearted as it was now. He knew that from personal experience. And dying by fire would no doubt be as terrible as being eaten alive by a demon. He knew that firsthand, as well.

He made up his mind. He had been foolish to think he could return to this land and remain unaffected by his past. His own quest could wait. The passage through the goddess boundary might not even exist. If it did not, he would continue on to unknown parts. But first, he would try to help her a third and final time.

He followed the woman’s trail with greater purpose. One more foolish act before he left would do him no real harm.

And maybe someone else some good.

…

From a ledge halfway up the winding path that led to the top of the mesa above the single road into Goldrush, Raven crouched behind a stand of stunted yellow pine. She did not have long to wait before a cloud of dust in the distance warned her of the returning search party’s approach.

She bit her lip. She had chosen this vantage point because it provided her ample opportunity for escape, but she was out of practice with her bow and arrow. She worried her lip some more and considered stepping out of hiding at the last moment in the hope that Justice would see her and stop, giving her a better target. She would also have the satisfaction of seeing his face when he discovered that she had bested him. But if she lost the element of surprise, then missed the shot, she risked recapture. The early morning sun warmed the ledge, the radiant heat soaking into her bones welcome after the long, cold night. A yawn shook through her, and she blinked rapidly, forcing herself to concentrate as she steadied her bow and nocked an arrow.

The dust cloud came closer. She could not yet make out the individual riders. She squinted against the sunlight. Anyone who’d ridden in search of her after what happened last night deserved what he got, but she did not want to hit a hross, one of their long-legged, large-hoofed desert mounts, by mistake.

She decided if she missed, there would be other chances to kill Justice. If Creed could convince the assassins to train her, she would make it her life’s mission.

She tightened her draw on the string.

A soft noise behind her, a dislodging of some small pebble, alerted her to impending danger. She rolled to her hip, dropping the bow and arrow. A heavy weight pressed on her exposed stomach and chest, driving her shoulders into the dirt and forcing the breath from her body. Well-muscled arms clad in leather kissed the dirt on either side of her head, caging her in. The stranger pinning her down was enormous.

So, however, was Creed, and she had sparred with him many times. Self-preservation kicked in. What she lacked in size she made up for in strength and agility, and while she’d been no match for Creed’s experience, she’d held her own.

This giant clearly did not expect her to know how to defend herself. His broad torso also tipped the center of gravity in her favor. Wrapping her legs around his waist—which hiked her skirt indecently far up her thighs—she slid her arms up and through his. Once her arms were free, she brought them back down and around to pin his arms to her sides.

His face was now inches from hers. Their gazes burned hot into each other. Surprise lit his dark eyes when he realized she had him trapped—and that she had the strength to keep him that way. Neither one of them could move without giving the other an advantage. Raven squirmed, trying to leverage her hips and shoulders into a position to flip him, but he held her firmly beneath his body, his knees on her skirt. She skinned an elbow and her shoulder for her efforts. He did not give an inch.

“My name is Blade,” the man said. “I’m trying to help. I’m not going to hurt you.”

His voice, deep and low, sounded more amused by her attempts to unseat him than anything. She had the unsettling sensation that she’d seen him before but could not place him.

The hross thundered by below, the pounding of their great hooves shaking the dry earth. Seconds later, they were gone. Furious at being caught off guard and more furious still at missing her last chance to shoot Justice, she kicked a heel into Blade’s hip but with no real impact.

“Good to know,” Raven panted. “Because the minute I’m free, I intend to hurt you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

His quiet humor enraged her further, but she remained cautious. Creed had never been a real threat to her, but she could not say the same for this man, no matter what his reassurances to the contrary might be.

Dirt ground into the scrape on her shoulder as she continued to try to gain leverage while covertly studying his face. His skin was deeply browned, as if he’d spent weeks in the sun. High cheekbones and a firm, unsmiling mouth made him appear grim despite his amusement at their predicament. Straight hair, almost as black as hers but without the red highlights, and much longer, had come free of its restraint and now brushed her cheek, blocking her vision on one side. If she turned her head, her face would be buried in it. She already caught his scent, one of plain soap and sunshine, and her demon stirred with an interest in him that was far more sexual than violent in nature.

Shaken, Raven pushed it away. It was a challenge for her to read emotions in others when her own ran so high, but even without her demon’s pull toward him, she could sense that he held no true intent to hurt her. On one level that reassured her. On another it scared her to death, because she knew this man was also dark inside—complex and nearly impossible to understand.

Her human instincts warned her of danger, though not necessarily any direct threat to herself. Like Creed, Blade was capable of considerable violence, but he also possessed a great deal of self-control. Raven suspected they could remain in this position for hours and he would not relent.

Neither would she. If he forced her hand, she would use her demon to free herself. She hoped it wouldn’t come that—but for her sake, not his. Each time she unleashed her demon she lost a small sense of her humanity, something she wanted desperately to cling to.

“What were you planning to do with that arrow?” he asked, as if making polite conversation and they were not locked in a battle of strength and wills.

“I was hunting rabbits.”

“I see.” He tested the hold she had on his arms, still pinned to her sides. “I saved your life, then. If you’d killed the rabbit you had your sights on, every Godseeker assassin in the land would be after you. You’d be dead before the next shift of the moon.”

“I can look after myself,” she said.

His eyes, black and serious, did not waver from hers. “Like you did last night, you mean?”

He had been there, in the crowd. That was how she recognized him. Desperation shot through her. He knew what she was accused of. She saw no point in pretending otherwise. “Will you turn me in?”

There was a slight hesitation before his response. “No.”

She believed him, but she did not trust him. She could not afford to. “Let me up.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, after eyeing her carefully and reaching some sort of conclusion. “Not yet. You’re still far too angry.”

How dare he refuse her demand. He had no authority over her. No one did anymore. The knowledge was liberating. She wasn’t about to let this stranger, handsome or not, take her freedom from her. She had not escaped one man to become the possession of another.

“I’m not angry,” she said, forcing calm into her tone.

“No?” He was silent for another long moment. “Your stepfather tried to rape you—for all I know, he may have succeeded—and then blamed you for it. He tried to have you burned at the stake as a demon spawn. He destroyed every single thing you owned—and likely valued.” Despite the blunt cruelty of his words, compassion eased its way into his eyes. “Are you sure you aren’t angry?”

She had not needed the reminders.

Then, she absorbed what he said.

“How did you know he destroyed my belongings?” she asked, suspicion creeping across her flesh. Her eyes widened in renewed fury. “Have you been following me?” She brought her head up, aiming for his nose, and he swung his face to the side almost too late to avoid it. Her forehead connected with his cheekbone instead. “Let me up, you bastard!”

“Not yet.” His weight on her chest increased, pressing the air from her lungs as he held her down.

White-hot rage made her reckless and far more dangerous than he could possibly know. She channeled the heat of her anger inward. It shifted as it touched that other, separate part of her inner self, the one that could manipulate fire.

…

Blade had been entirely too distracted by the golden gleam of her skin and the full line of her mouth. That was why he barely evaded her attempt to break his nose.

Careless.

He flicked his gaze back to her pale, diamond-blue eyes, where it should have been, and was again caught by an unsettling surprise. They smoldered, filled with flames of desire where only seconds before he’d read outrage. One moment she exuded innocence. The next, she became this sultry seductress. Rather than trying to toss him off her, she now lifted her hips invitingly, then tilted her chin, beckoning him closer.

He immediately went hard, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d last enjoyed the heat of a woman. But the suddenness of her transformation put him on guard. He had heard the talk of her ability to lure men, and all his self-preservation instincts commanded he keep his eyes locked on hers.

He cursed under his breath. He’d let his own bad experiences with a Godseeker uncle cloud his interpretation of what was happening last night, and immediately assumed her stepfather was lying. He had not truly thought through what it might mean if the accusations against her were true.

He still had no idea.

He panted slightly, trying to shift his weight from his throbbing erection and calm it without giving her any room to escape. He caught a rock with one booted foot and tried to use it as leverage to help him free his arms, accidentally kicking it off the side of the ledge instead.

The blue flames in her eyes slowly died.

“Let me up,” she repeated. This time, much of the fight appeared to have left her. She looked young, weary, and more afraid than she probably wanted him to see. This appearance of vulnerability made her all the more dangerous, Blade reminded himself. She had a right to defend herself using whatever means possible, but if he were to fall into her lure, he would pay for it dearly.

Lust stabbed through him again as he studied her face. Then again, if she intended to deploy such means as this against men, she needed to know what it was that she risked. Last night had not, apparently, taught her enough of a lesson.

He dipped his head and captured her mouth with his. Her lips parted, shock filling her eyes, and he took swift advantage of her gasp. He swept his tongue lightly across hers, lingering, enjoying the taste of her.

Then, just as suddenly, everything changed again. Hot waves of desire encompassed him, stripping him of any ability to form a coherent plan of defense. But it was not his craving for her that left him reeling this time, even though that was heady enough. It was hers for him.

Her legs were tight around his waist, and in their struggle he had not noticed how her skirt had slipped almost to her hips. Little separated her warmth from the erection continuing to strain against his trousers, and she pressed more snugly against him, bringing them closer still. One small, bare foot caressed his hip, then rubbed along the length of his thigh, giving him an opening to break the physical hold she had on him. He reached beneath her and he danced his fingertips along the sensual line of her spine before deepening their kiss. He could think of nothing but a swelling, rampant need to be inside her, to join with her.

To belong to her.

Icy awareness blasted him like a fist to the face. He could finish this to their mutual satisfaction if he wished, but he was not the kind of man women approached in this manner, without any caution. Not unless sparked by desperation or money. This desire for him, although powerful, could be no more natural than the allure she used on other men as a defense, and it was obvious she had little to no control over it right now.

He broke off the kiss, his heart pounding. He did not understand how they had come to this point, nor did he trust his reaction to her. He would not take undue advantage of any woman, especially one under duress and fearing for her life, demon spawn or not.

She turned her head, exposing her neck, and at the same time released his arms. He slowly grazed his roughened chin along the sensitive flesh beneath her ear to rest his cheek in her soft curls, and he relaxed his heavier body so she could extract herself from beneath him. He was curious to see how she would retaliate.

He did not expect her to throw her head back and scream as if in sudden and excruciating pain. As she twisted to her side, he rocked back on his heels and released her completely.

She drew her knees to her chest with a shudder, and one slim hand went to her bare calf. The other covered her face as if to hide. Shock and concern immobilized him, desire forgotten.

Then he saw it. A goldthief slithered away, its quivering tail emitting a loud rattle of displeasure. A quick visual check of the ledge told Blade what had happened. The snake must have been resting beneath the rock he’d dislodged with his foot.

As he coaxed her fingers from her leg she whimpered in pain. Two angry red puncture wounds, already swelling, marred the creamy smooth skin of her calf. He sucked in a breath at the sight.

“It was only a goldthief,” he told her. “You’ll be all right.”

He captured her fingers and squeezed them, wanting to reassure her that she was not going to die, although for a few days she might wish to do so. Goldthief bites were painful, and extremely hallucinogenic because the toxin tapped into the victim’s subconscious, but rarely fatal to someone young and healthy.

She clawed at his sleeve with both hands.

“Please don’t leave me!” she begged him, her voice whisper thin as her words slurred together. Stark terror spilled from her eyes to run down her cheeks. She moaned as the venom worked its way deeper into her system.

He lifted her into his arms, feeling helpless as he held her. The heat from the sun’s rays beat against his back, and perspiration pooled beneath the heavy leather coat. This day had not gone well for him. Not one bit. He scrubbed a hand down his face. If he had not stopped to help her, none of this would have happened. How had he gone from bystander, to seducer, to protector in such a short span of time?

“I won’t leave you,” he promised finally, not knowing what else he could say.

“Thank you.” Relief filled her soft, fading voice. “My name is Raven.” Her eyelids drifted closed, those long, sooty lashes dusting her ashen cheeks. Her next words were merely a murmur, and he bent his head as she spoke. Even then, he was uncertain he heard them correctly.

Because he thought she said, “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Chapter Three

Raven clutched at the sleeve of Blade’s coat with both hands, clinging to the one connection she had left to the mortal world, but she knew he could not help her now.

No one could.

Numbness spread from her hands and feet, inching gradually up her arms and legs. As the goldthief venom stole the feeling from her extremities, and her vision of the mortal world, she slipped from consciousness into the haven she had constructed from her childhood dreams. But its peacefulness was long gone. Now, steaming clouds of reeking sulfur thickened the air. Streaks of lightning, accompanied by deafening rumbles of thunder, cracked the heavy black sky above her, waves of residual static electricity lifting the curls away from her face. Demons had found it somehow, and changed it, and now when she came here they sensed her presence and searched it for her.

One found her now. She watched him from the edge of a boiling lake as he approached her in mortal form.

He stepped lightly across a footpath of stones embedded in red-hot lava. He wore very little, only a simple pair of breeches made of supple leather, and with curling black hair and eyes the same glittering shade of blue as hers, she had no doubt who he was. She could see why her mother had once answered his call. On the surface, he was beautiful. What her mother had not seen was the monster inside him, while Raven could see it quite clearly. It made her shiver, setting her own demon on edge.

He leaped from the last rock of the footpath to the shore of the lake, then stood before her. When he reached for the amulet around her neck, curiosity in his icy eyes, her flesh recoiled at the thought of his touch, but she did not back away. Her demon warned that to run from him would mean certain death.

He did not touch her, however. Only the amulet.

“Where did you get this?” he asked as he examined it.

She dared not lie to him. “From my mother.”

But it seemed he did dare lie to her. He released it, letting it drop to the cleft between her breasts, dismissing it as of no further interest to him, which she knew was not the truth. He searched her face, then shrugged one bare shoulder.

“There were so many. I don’t remember her.”

His feigned indifference enraged Raven. Her mother had been a weak woman with unrealistic and romantic notions, and for years she had suffered because of him. She had married Justice when no one else would have her, despite her skill as an artisan and her unusual beauty. Her refusal to name her child’s father was one of the few things she had remained steadfast against.

Until Justice had beaten it from her.

Raven cared little for the pain her birthright had caused herself, but knowing this demon had stolen any joy her mother might possibly have hoped for in life, and his dismissal of her now was too much to tolerate.

She wanted to hurt him in return. “I doubt if she remembered you, either. She kept a number of these simple trinkets but tossed this one away because it’s so ugly. I only saved it because I like its color.”

Her words seemed to amuse him. “She would have remembered me. And she would not have thrown that away.” The confidence of the assertions took her breath from her. “What a surprise to discover she survived your birth, though. I thought she was dead. I’m equally surprised you’re a female.” His cold eyes scanned her, making her flesh crawl as he examined the demon inside her. An unspoken acknowledgment passed between them. “You should not be here.”

“This place is mine,” she said. He was the trespasser here, not she. “I built it from my dreams, not yours.”

That amused him even more. “It’s not yours, and it’s no dream. This is a tiny piece of the boundary between mortality and immortality that you’ve tried to claim. Your demon half has brought you here. You’re the one who doesn’t belong. Full demons will hunt you.” Despite the intense heat from the lake, Raven felt her stomach turn to ice at his words. He continued to assess her and did not seem impressed with what he saw. “You are too small. I should kill you. What can you do to protect yourself?”

Sweat soaked through her thin, dirty dress as she fought back her anger. If this was a boundary between mortality and immortality, as he claimed, then he had no more right to be here than she did.

She had no intention of dying. She had demon blood and some of its talents and no reason not to use them against him. While she might not be able to kill him, she could wound him.

“I can read the desires of others.” The words tripped off her tongue without thought. “I know what you want. You want to return to the mortal world. You want to experience its pleasures. You want to hunt men again.” She leaned forward, reckless despite the danger she courted. “I know that you haven’t forgotten my mother and won’t ever forget her. Her memory will haunt you throughout eternity because she was the one you pursued, who you believe was meant to belong to you.” Raven’s fingers went to the amulet around her neck. “That’s why you gave her this. To keep her safe from other demons when she wasn’t with you.” Triumph edged into her voice as she homed in on his weakness. “But it couldn’t protect her from mortals, and what you want more than anything now is to kill the mortal you believe took her from you.”

She had gone too far. Said too much. As she uttered the final words her father shifted before her eyes, his body enlarging, his flesh peeling away as his true form emerged. In seconds, he loomed above her as an angry, thick-skinned monster with gleaming red eyes and enormous, black-veined red wings that exploded from the bunched muscles between his shoulders. The ground shuddered beneath flat, widespread, clawed feet as he stalked around her on thighs as big as her waist. He glowered at her from his greater height, his generous lips drawn back to expose doubled rows of jagged teeth.

Although the top of her head barely reached his shining, bone-plated torso, Raven buried her fear deep and did not flinch. Her fingers tightened around the amulet, its edges pressing into her palm.

He reached out to drag a claw down the side of her cheek. It did not touch her, but passed through her flesh. He seemed as startled by that as she was at first, and then he smiled at her, those awful teeth gleaming.

“Goldthief,” he said. “The hallucinations have tapped into your mortal fears, but they haven’t touched your demon. Not yet.”

She clutched the amulet more tightly, grateful that the hallucinations from the snakebite had transferred only her subconscious. The rest of her remained on the ledge of a sun-drenched mesa, in the arms of a stranger named Blade who had promised not to leave her alone.

The amulet, however, had somehow crossed into the boundary. Her father had touched it.

“I hear the hallucinations at night are especially spectacular,” he continued. “Not even your demon will be able to fight off those. What do you suppose will happen to you once darkness falls? Where will you find yourself then? What protection will you have? You think you know so much.” His thick, ugly lips twisted. “You don’t even know how to use that amulet you wear. It’s not meant for you. It won’t protect you from demons. But if you can survive the night, then I think you might be of use to me.” He drew himself straight and brought his hands sharply together. “Until then, go back where you came from.”

The boom of his voice mixed with the thunder from the clap of his hands. Lightning tore open the blackened and bloodied sky of the boundary, and Raven squeezed her eyes tight against the bright flash of light.

When she opened them again, it was the sun that blinded her.

Blade’s face swam in and out of focus above hers, making her nauseated, his concern evident in what little she could read of his emotions past her own turbulent thoughts.

She rolled to her side and retched in the dirt, his rough palm smoothing her hair away from her hot face, until her stomach was empty and sore.

Blade asked her a question, but his lips did not move at the same speed as his words, and she could not make sense of it. The distortion unsettled her, and her stomach lurched again. Willing the world to remain still, she tried to sit up.

Behind him, from out of nowhere, a giant brown snake with yellow venom dripping off its pointed fangs reared its flat head.

Raven opened her mouth to cry out a warning, but Blade clapped his hand over her lips.

…

He moved with barely enough time to stifle the sounds of her screams from the riders passing below them. Blade had been sitting with her for the better part of an hour now, waiting for her to drift back into awareness, uncertain how long or how frequent her periods of lucidity were going to be.

Dampness soaked the glossy black curls around her face, and although her breathing had been panicked and shallow for quite some time, it now seemed even. This was the first time since she’d lost consciousness that she had opened her eyes, too.

It worried him. The hallucinations during the day were reputed to be bad enough. The ones experienced by the victim at night had the potential to drive them insane. He had hoped a woman who could hold her own in a wrestling match with a man his size would be less susceptible to the hallucinations, but he’d been wrong. He had no idea what she thought she had seen behind him, but whatever it was must have been bad.

Blade’s hand still covered her mouth, but it no longer mattered. The riders were gone, and she was quiet again. This time, however, her rest seemed more peaceful, although he had no idea how long it might last. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and tried to think what to do.

He had promised he wouldn’t leave her, and he did not intend to do so for any great length of time, but he needed to gather his belongings and purchase enough supplies to get them to safety.

He gently brushed a thumb across her beautiful lips, lost in thought. Even though his attraction to her had not abated, it was somewhat easier to ignore now that he was responsible for her safety. The fact that he understood her allure was a defense mechanism, and that she did not have complete control over it, helped, too.

It was her attraction to him, however, that had taken him so completely by surprise. But he would not again forget that she was half demon, or that demons hated men. Even her mortal half had no reason to like men that he could see. He would help her until she recovered, but to trust in a false fascination for each other would be suicide.

That didn’t mean he was immune to her other charms. Her courage, dangerous as it was, was admirable. He still could not quite believe her bold attempt on the Godseeker’s life.

He sighed, looking above and around them. In order to help her he had to get them off this mesa—it was too close to Goldrush and very exposed. She needed a place to rest, to regain her strength. The snakebite remained angry and red, her calf swollen to nearly twice its size so that she could not bend her knee if she tried. He couldn’t carry her across the desert in this condition, and even if she were lucid, she would not be able to walk very far on her own.

As much as he disliked the idea, he had to move her to a temporary shelter where he could tie her and gag her. He could see no other alternative. If he left her alone and unrestrained, she might wander off or make enough noise to alert her pursuers. He would only make a quick run into town and be back before nightfall—when the real terrors would begin.

He got to his feet, working a cramp from his leg with a wince. Then he lifted Raven into his arms. Despite her small size she was not light, and he grunted from both the physical effort and his faint surprise. He again wished he had left town while he’d had the chance. If he had not tried to interfere in her life, she would not have fought him and the snakebite would never have happened.

He had caused this, and he could not abandon her. Once, a long time ago, he had been left for dead, and if not for the intervention of strangers, he would have died. Instead, he had been crippled until a half demon had made him whole again, giving him back his life. So while he despised most demons and viewed their spawn with suspicion, he would give Raven the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

He settled her head in the crook of his shoulder and started up a narrow, natural footpath that led to the desert above.

Midday was never the best time to travel into the desert, although with winter fast approaching it was cooler than it might have been otherwise. Blade supposed he could be thankful for that.

Dust-covered mesquite and rough terrain stretched for miles. The low foothills and mountains on the other side of the town would have provided more ideal places to hide, but the majority of the searchers would have explored them for that very reason. The place he finally settled on for her was not perfect—a grove of spindly yucca brush at the base of a low, rock-tabled plateau carved by the wind, interspersed with creosote bush. It was obvious shelter that any search party would be inclined to explore, but the hideaway was so close to town and in the same direction from which the last riders had returned, it was very likely they had already checked the spot.

He deposited her in the shade, his back and shoulder muscles groaning with relief. The relief quickly turned to worry when he realized he had nothing to bind her with. He sat beside her beneath the long, leathery leaves of a graying yucca and rested a contemplative wrist on one knee as he surveyed her still form.

Around her neck she wore an amulet on a long, gold chain. He had seen such replicas before, although this was of higher quality than most. It was not a goddess amulet. Fashioned after the one the Demon Slayer possessed and made from common red soil hardened by desert varnish, people purchased them from corrupt dealers on the mistaken belief that they offered physical protection from demons.

He eyed her dress. It was already beyond salvation. He doubted if the plain, lightweight fabric could hold her if she truly wished to be free, but he suspected she would not be aware she was restrained unless she became coherent. It wasn’t likely to happen in such a short time after the bite and was a risk he would have to take. He gripped the hem of her dress and began to tear strips from it. When he got to town he would try to find her something more practical to wear to replace it.

The rapid movement of her eyes beneath their lids as he worked indicated she was hallucinating again, although this one didn’t seem as violent as the others. Once he tied her down, he covered her as best he could with his coat so she would not be so…exposed. Then, he stood and stared at her for a long moment. At the curve of her throat and the feverish blush to her cheek. At the short, soft riot of curls he had tucked behind one pretty ear. He breathed in her unique, subtle, and tantalizing scent—roses and warm desert sage.

Leaving her tied like this seemed cruel, but he had done far worse things in his life and for less noble reasons. He had no other choice. And she was not as delicate as she appeared.

He swallowed hard. He would return as quickly as possible.

…

Creed did not know what to make of the disturbing rumors of spawn that had reached the Temple of Immortal Right. All he knew was that the rumors meant trouble.

Despite the chill air that blew through the mountain range and into the valley, sweat rolled down his naked back and dripped off his face. He swiped at his forehead with the crook of his elbow, his eyes already stinging, and he blinked several times to clear them. As he circled the small enclosure, stalking the fierce trainer he faced, it was Raven he worried about. If personal experience was any indication, then the departure of full-blooded demons was turning out to be a mixed blessing for mortals. Yes, they were gone, but his demon talents had increased exponentially. And Raven was far more demon than he.

The trainer, deceptively agile for his advanced years, brought forward the long, heavy staff he carried in his gnarled fingers, smashing Creed across the side of his smooth-shaved head with it. The blow was not gentle, and Creed, although almost twice the trainer’s size and less than half his age, had trouble shaking it off.

“Pay attention,” Siege said, his voice laden with disapproval.

Creed blocked the next strike with a hand, then shot out his forearm in a blow aimed at the old man’s chin. Siege leaped aside even as he laid the staff whiplike along Creed’s back and shoulder. A loud crack filled the air. When the adrenaline wore off, Creed knew he would have a number of welts purpling all over his body.

A crowd had gathered to watch one of the temple’s brightest talents spar with the aged and well-respected leader of the Godseeker assassins. A Godseeker in his own right, it was said the old man had once survived an attack by three demons. Creed had no idea if the story was true or something that had simply been embellished over the years, but he did know one thing for certain—fights, even these training spars, could not be forfeited or ceded. If he did not tap into his demon, the old man would best him.

Standing head and shoulders above most men, losing a fight was not something Creed had much experience with. Even though Siege was armed and he was not, their size and age differences, and the rumor that the old man had a bad heart, made Creed heavily favored to win. Bets on the outcome had already been exchanged.

He had never called on his demon to help him in these sparring matches, though, and he would not start now. He had no inclination to take unfair advantage, regardless of the skill level of his opponent. Siege was the more experienced fighter today, plain and simple, and Creed wanted to learn from him more than he wanted to win.

With his usual good nature, Creed took the beating he received in stride. Siege showed him no mercy, and he expected none. Twenty minutes later, he was on the ground with Siege’s staff pressed against his windpipe. The ringmaster called the fight in the elderly assassin’s favor.

“A ten-year-old girl could have beaten you this morning,” Siege said. White eyebrows touched over the bridge of his hawked nose as he glared down at him in contempt before releasing the pressure on his throat. “Go get cleaned up. You’ll spend the afternoon reading in the library.”

As a punishment, this was meant to humiliate—many of the assassin trainees came here illiterate. But Creed was not one of them. Columbine, Raven’s mother, had taught him to read, and he enjoyed any time spent in the library. It was well stocked with books on Old World history and ancient technology from the period before the Demon Occupation.

He crossed the narrow compound to the showers.

Their entrance was carved from the valley’s natural rock walls. The entire temple existed as a series of such rooms, interconnected and flowing from one to the other. Each had an entry from the compound outside, as well, leaving everything open and giving the inhabitants very little privacy and no opportunity to keep secrets.

Low ceiling lighting flashed on in response to Creed passing through the door. At this time of the morning, when most men were at breakfast, the showers were usually empty. And yet as he entered, although he saw no one, he knew at once that he was not alone.

Creed had demon skills other than fighting that he did not hesitate to call upon when needed. He had always deflected attention from himself and influenced the thoughts of others with ease, making himself almost completely invisible if he wished. He also had a sixth sense for other half demons.

Those skills were growing too.

In the corner of the room, near shelves stacked with towels, he spied a teenage boy in grimy clothes who stared around the room trying to figure out where Creed had gone. The boy had no weapons on him, at least none to be seen. Neither did Creed sense that he meant any harm, although there was an overriding sense of urgency to him.

Creed crossed the room in a few long, silent strides, reached down to take the boy by the scruff of his ragged coat, and jerked him to his feet. “Are you crazy, coming here like this?” he asked. “Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you’re discovered?”

The boy’s eyes were wide and cautious, but also determined.

“I need your help,” he said.

Creed had to laugh. “You’ve come to the wrong place for that, my friend. Assassins work for Godseekers. They aren’t going to help a half demon.”

“Not help from assassins. I need it from you,” the boy said. He wiggled around inside his coat so that Creed’s hold on it did not strangle him. “And it’s not for me. It’s for Raven.”

Creed felt the smile fade from his lips at the mention of her name. The floor in the open showers was damp and slick with moisture, and he adjusted his footing so that he would not lose his hold on the interloper or be thrown off balance by him. “What’s wrong with her?”

He listened in disbelief as he learned of the judgment against her and her subsequent escape.

“What makes you think I can help her?” he asked. In fact, he couldn’t. He could not simply leave the temple without repercussion. She would understand that. He had to believe she’d learned something of survival from him.

“There’s a connection between you. She trusts you. Tracing you through her was easy.”

They did have a connection. One he had no wish for anyone to discover and had gone to great lengths to hide. Creed’s worry for her increased. Raven did not deflect attention, as he did. Instead, she drew it to herself, and usually in worrisome ways. If her talents had increased as much as Roam’s ability to find her suggested, and she could be traced back to Creed through them, she would bring trouble upon them both.

Creed needed to think.

“Who are you? And how did you get here?” he asked the boy.

“My name is Roam. I traveled here through the boundary.”

This was another revelation that caught Creed off guard. Hidden within the Godseeker Mountains, and protected by the temple, lay a boundary that the goddesses had put in place a long time ago in an attempt to confine demons to the desert regions of the mortal world. That boundary had remained impenetrable, even after the goddesses were forced from the world by the Demon Lord. What the boy said was impossible.

And yet, here he was.

“No demon could cross that boundary,” Creed said. “Not even a half demon. The goddesses saw to that.”

“The boundary is immortal,” the boy insisted. “If the goddesses can use it, why would it be impossible for demons, who are also immortal, to use it too?”

Creed ran a hand up the nape of his shaven head. Heat thrummed through the phoenix tattooed on his back and along his shoulders. He did not know what the tattoo represented, if anything—only that it had appeared with the departure of the demons and was not something noticed by others. He was changing. So were others like him.

So was the world.

“Why do you care what happens to her?” Creed asked. “Why involve yourself in someone else’s problems?”

“There’s safety in numbers, and half demons are already banding together.”

Creed did not like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Our talents are no longer as easy to hide. We’re no longer welcome. We make people nervous.” The boy shrugged. “We’ve got nowhere to go. Together, we can at least protect ourselves.”

He studied the boy. A plan began to formulate.

“If you help me, I will help you,” Creed said. “I need you to deliver a message for me.”

Chapter Four

Without food and adequate clothing, Raven could not get far.

Justice slid from the back of his hross and tossed the reins to one of the young stable hands. His leg throbbed fiercely where she had stabbed him, although he would never admit it out loud. Weakness was not to be tolerated.

Raven had made him look weak enough.

“Hold its head steady,” he instructed the boy, then bent to lift the hross’s front leg. He brushed aside long black feathers to explore the fetlock with his fingers. As he’d suspected, the joint was hot and inflamed.

He straightened, dusting his hands on his leather chaps as he did so. The long-legged, barrel-chested hross, suited for both drayage and riding, was a favorite. It would have carried him until it dropped of exhaustion rather than pull up lame.

“Wrap its leg and see that it rests,” he said. The boy nodded, then led the enormous animal off to the stable.

The other men in his search party had dismounted to join those who had already returned. All were awaiting his orders.

Justice considered his options. They had been up the entire night, which meant there was little point in sending them into the mines today. They were too tired to work. On the other hand, keeping them together would no doubt be wise. He could not risk taking a chance that Raven might convince one of the men to help her if he allowed them to go their separate ways. But neither could he risk rebellion by not letting them rest. Even though he was a Godseeker, his leadership in Goldrush was still precarious. The town was too new, and its inhabitants numbered less than two hundred—the majority of them men, all of whom would be susceptible to Raven’s demon charms.

“Until she’s captured, no man is safe from her,” Justice said to the gathered men. “Go home for now. If you see her, send word to me. Don’t approach her alone. Don’t let her touch you. If she does, she’ll claim your soul.” He relaxed his face into an expression of profound sorrow. “I’m sorry for bringing this trouble to your lives. This is my problem, and I’ll be the one to resolve it.”

Murmurs of sympathy swept through the crowd. It went without saying that women remained the responsibility of their men—even if they were spawn.

The men dispersed. Those who had already seen to their hross headed for home, fatigue and worry etched on their faces. Despite the fact that the immortals were gone from the world, demons had plagued mortal men for too many years for them to be comfortable with the thought of spawn taking root in their midst.

Justice walked the short distance to his own home, ignoring the pain in his thigh and tilting his hat to better shield his wind-burned face from the searing rays of the late-morning sun. Soon enough, the days would grow cold. Regardless, the mines would be fully productive long before winter. The men who had followed him to this new settlement were the best miners he could find, and the mines themselves well constructed and relatively safe. Security, both financial and physical, bred loyalty in people.

His hand tightened into a fist. Loyalty had never been a quality his dead wife or her daughter possessed. Despite everything he had done for them, Columbine had remained a demon’s whore at heart until the day she died.

And Raven…

He intended to break her. She reminded him far too much of the goddess who had once exercised such enormous power over him. Those days were now gone. Immortals were not meant to rule men. And men were not meant to be whores.

He climbed the front steps, spurs jingling as his riding boots struck the blackened, creosote-soaked wood. As soon as he entered the cool, dim interior of his house, he could tell that she had been here. The air reeked of rose oil. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in appreciation for a brief second before hanging his hat on a hook by the door.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called softly, although he also knew she was gone. Food and clothing were her priorities—she would not have lingered.

The front rooms, shuttered to keep out the worst of the heat, were untouched except for the food she had stolen from the kitchen. As he moved through the stillness to the bedrooms at the back of the house, he wished he could have seen her face when she discovered what he had done to her belongings.

He started past his bedroom, his attention focused on hers, when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his own door was partially open. It had not been left that way. He paused, listened, then pushed on it, the door swinging silently on its hinges.

He stared into the room for a long moment, a mixture of emotions rampaging through him. She had hidden something in the ceiling, something that she’d reclaimed. The open box on the floor indicated she’d also dared to steal money from him.

She’d also taken the amulet her mother had once worn, an ugly piece of desert varnish that had been given to Columbine by her demon lover. She had claimed it protected her from other demons. That when she wore it, they could not touch her. He’d proven to her that it was, in fact, worthless, and demons would never rule him either. He would prove the same to her half-demon daughter. If Raven thought the amulet could help her, she was mistaken as well. All he had to do was send word to the assassins and have them track her down.

He closed the box and slid it back under his bed. His jaw tightened when he saw the long scratch in the floor. He replaced the boards in the ceiling, his thoughts busy.

Raven might have money and a small supply of food, but he had destroyed every stitch of her clothing and she had no way to acquire any more. She could not spend money in town without it being reported to him, and there were no other settlements for many miles. That meant she would need help. No woman in Goldrush would dare risk giving it to her, so her only help would come from the men she managed to possess. The townsmen, too, were now cautious. Strangers, although rare, might prove more susceptible to her true nature. Justice would have to mend any possible holes in that particular fence.

The immortals were gone from the world—he did not want them back. But it gave him great pleasure to think of spawn serving man in their stead.

Servitude would start with his arrogant and willful stepdaughter.

…

It was late afternoon by the time Blade arrived back in Goldrush.

As soon as he reached the town limits, he headed straight for the general store. The main street was unusually quiet for the time of day. The men, he assumed, were either resting after the long hunt for Raven throughout the night or were at work, but he had to wonder what kept the women and children indoors. Everyday errands and chores would still need to be done.

The town had no saloon, something that did not surprise him. After the goddesses had been driven from the world by the demons, the Godseekers had taken to immortal worship in the hopes of bringing them back. After a demon cut short his career as an assassin, it had amused Blade to take ownership of a saloon in Freetown, the most lawless town he could find. His dead Godseeker uncle would have rolled in his grave. Some sects were more pious than others, even denying themselves pleasures that the goddesses had once enjoyed because the goddesses could no longer experience them.

That was what was missing here, Blade suddenly realized. He had seen no temple, and yet he would have expected a man like Justice, who had once been the favorite of a goddess if the amulet he wore was genuine, to erect one in his patroness’s honor. Perhaps he’d had no time since the settlement was so obviously new, but Blade did not think that was the reason. Considerable effort had been expended on the Godseeker’s own house that could as easily have been spent elsewhere. Intuition told Blade something was wrong with this town, and he had learned never to disregard his instincts.

As he walked down the street he exaggerated the limp that once had come naturally to him. A big man was more noticeable but less threatening if he had an obvious handicap, and likely to be dismissed. He entered the general store, a narrow frame building with a false front, low-slung veranda, and a backyard enclosed with picket fencing. Someone had taken the time to transplant two young blue spruce trees to either corner of the veranda. Inside, a single small window near the ceiling joists lit the murky room.

A thin, colorless woman with gray skin and hair was the store’s only occupant. She eyed him over her bony shoulder from behind the wooden countertop, suspicion darkening her expression at the sight of a stranger. She had been in the midst of wiping the interminable desert dust off some of the store’s merchandise and she paused when he entered, the cloth in her hand hovering above several boxes of tobacco on a high shelf.

Blade nodded a greeting as he limped past the counter toward a long rack of preserves lining the back wall. Some of the suspicion in her expression lessened as she followed his awkward progress.

“You were at the town gathering last night,” she called out to him after several moments of silent observation.

Blade glanced up from inspecting the preserves. So, the residents were calling it a town gathering, as if that somehow absolved them of any responsibility for its outcome. The euphemism irritated him. His first impression of the town had been accurate, that it was dirty beneath the cleanly exterior, and he could not wait to put it behind him. He wondered how Raven, who did not appear to lack either courage or vitality, had fit into the fiber of this place.

“Yes,” he said.

He made his response neither friendly nor hostile, yet managed to convey in the single-syllabled word his indifference for small talk because she looked as if she had more to say but kept silent. He wondered how many people had seen him the night before and if any of them would notice that he didn’t normally walk with a limp. Most had been too preoccupied with the Godseeker’s performance to pay attention to such details.

Blade grabbed several jars of preserves without reading their labels, three boxes of matches, and moved on to the packaged goods. The woman said no more to him and went back to wiping down the counter and shelves, her movements methodical and weary. Once he had all he needed, Blade carried everything to the cash register.

She took her time ringing him up. Every few minutes she would glance at him, then look away as if afraid. Finally, she gathered her courage. “You come from away. Have you heard the rumors? Do you know if it’s true what people are saying?”

“Saying about what?” he asked. His mind was on Raven and the passing of time as he packed the purchases in a sack after she rang each item through.

Her fingers trembled on a bag of dried beans, and her eyes went to the door. She lowered her voice and spoke faster, as if to get the words out before anyone else might overhear them. “That spawn are here in the mountains, burning down villages and killing people. That they’ve got demon abilities now that the demons are gone. And that we’re less safe now, without the demons, than we ever were before.”

Blade continued to fill the bag. “I don’t pay much attention to rumors,” he said. “And I don’t borrow trouble. You shouldn’t, either. If it’s true, let the Godseekers take care of it.”

Purchases in hand, he left the store far more troubled than he’d been when he entered.

The three-storied rooming house where he had been staying was the tallest building in town and not far from the store. Attached to it, as part of a small, gated complex, were the local bathhouse and laundry. A painted white sign announcing vacancies hung from hooks over the steps and creaked in the dry wind. It would not take him long to reclaim his belongings and settle his bill.

He shuffled along as if time was unimportant to him, when in reality, worry for Raven gnawed it him. He had assumed responsibility for her and had not done so lightly. He’d left her alone long enough already.

He had almost reached the rooming house when a lone man came out the front door and descended its steps.

…

When Raven finally pried open one throbbing eye, it was to the fading light of the day. Her head ached like crazy, and agony ripped through her arms and legs. Thousands of fire ants stripped her flesh from her bones, and she was helpless to stop them. She tried to move, but the heavy weight of a blanket or some similar cover pinned her in place.

No, not a blanket, but a long, wool-lined leather coat—Blade’s.

She tried to push it off and discovered her inability to move was not part of any hallucination. Her hands and feet were bound. The pain, too, was real. Pins and needles of fire ignited nerve endings in muscles gone to sleep. Her mouth was unbearably dry, partly because of the gag between her teeth. She bit it, enraged. The bastard.

She had trusted him based on her instincts, and that betrayal stung far worse than his. She did not expect much from others. She did, however, expect a lot of herself, and could not quite believe how her demon reacted to him. She had never, in her life, felt such desire for a man. She drew them to her—they did not draw her to them. It left her feeling even more vulnerable, as if her demon were somehow bound to him, and it made her uneasy.

She fought the bindings at first, too weak to tear them but desperate for freedom before the hallucinations started again. Then, exhausted, common sense whispered in her ear that Blade would not have tied her and left his coat behind if he’d intended to abandon her. He could simply have walked away. Instead, he had restrained her.

Why?

Her demon whispered the answer to her. Because he made you a promise, and he does not make them lightly. And because I claim him.

He’s mine.

Certainty edged out desperation. He would come back for her. She clung to her trust in her demon instincts as if it were a bobbing log on a flood-ravaged river. As for claiming him…

She ruled her demon. It did not rule her. She belonged to no man and had no need for one to belong to her.

Panting heavily, she struggled to regulate her breathing and remain clearheaded. She could not—would not—lose her sanity completely. It was all she had left. She didn’t want to think about the next round of terrors and what the night might bring.

She turned her head to the side and concentrated on identifying her surroundings. She was no longer on the narrow ledge of the mesa. Rough desert terrain bounded her now, and she was grateful Blade had at least taken the time to hide her in a dense thicket of brush. Wind rattled sand through the dry yucca leaves while the smell of sage and the faint, bitter aroma of creosote filled her nose and lungs. The fabric swatch in her mouth tasted faintly of dust, juniper, and a hint of rose oil. She knew immediately that he had bound her with strips from her dress.

A sharp rock dug into the flat plane of her back, and she shifted position by pushing at the ground with her bound feet. Her small pack of food, and her bow and quiver of arrows, lay nearby.

Assuming she could rely on her senses, the world around her was reassuringly real.

Although it would not be for much longer.

The sun dangled dangerously close to the red-and-indigo-hued horizon, and at the sight of it, Raven’s heart started to pound. Fine tremors seeped through her body, gaining momentum like water trickling down a steep hill. Already, her world was shimmering and shifting.

She shuddered. She did not want to open her eyes next time to darkness.

“Here.”

The sound of a voice, unexpectedly close to her, made her turn her head too sharply, and the ache behind her eyes threatened to crack open her skull.

The gag in her mouth was removed, and a cool, firm hand cupped the back of her head, lifting it, pressing a canteen of warm water to her dry lips.

“Drink this. Just a little.”

She sipped greedily, wanting more, but the canteen was withdrawn too soon. A boy, perhaps eighteen, crouched at her side with distress in his kind, coffee-colored eyes. His blond hair, dirtied to a ditchwater brown, touched his shoulders, and the plain laborer’s clothing covering his thin frame was badly in need of laundering. He looked half-starved.

Raven, however, was in no position to criticize the physical appearance of another. Almost as much as she wanted more water to drink, she longed to bathe and change her clothes.

“Are you real?” she whispered to him, the words causing her throat to ache even worse than her head. She remembered the flesh-eating fire ants and suspected her sore throat came from screaming.

The thought unnerved her.

He hesitated. “I didn’t want you to think you were alone.”

Her gaze sharpened. He had not answered her question. She could find out whether or not he was real. “Untie me.”

He shook his head in refusal, embarrassment staining his cheeks. His eyes slid from hers. “You were bitten by a goldthief. Until the hallucinations pass, or your friend returns, it’s perhaps best if you remain bound. I’m no safer from you than any other male would be. If it became necessary, I could never restrain you.” His voice, while gentle, held rueful humor as he scrubbed his brow with the rough of his thumb. “Your friend seems better able than most at protecting himself from you.”

By “friend,” she assumed he was referring to Blade. She did not bother to correct him. That man was not a friend. But he was not an enemy either.

The colors haloing the air around the boy signaled that the hallucinations were not far off. Dissecting his words gave her something to concentrate on in an effort to keep them at bay.

“How did you know I was bitten by a snake?” she managed to rasp.

“I’ve been following you. I felt your distress a few days ago and knew right away what you were, but it took me a few days to find you. By the time I did, your big friend had already decided to help you.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and balanced his torso more securely over his heels. “He can do more for you than I can right now, at least until I find the others.”

She did not understand. She had been so careful. How could this boy have followed her without being seen?

And who were the others he spoke of?

The swirls of color around the boy deepened, sharpened. Then long, orange maggots crawled out of the setting sun, and Raven drew in a harsh breath as they came for her.

She was not ready. She could not do this alone again. It was Blade and his dark, steady strength she wanted beside her now, when the colors and demon darkness threatened, and not this boy who readily acknowledged he had less to offer her by way of protection.

Although in truth, no one could save her. She knew what her demon father’s deepest desire had become, and not even her mother’s amulet could stop him from pursuing it. When darkness descended, demons would come for her.

Little demon, he had called her.

It was what Justice called her, too, but for very different reasons.

The boy’s lips moved, but Raven, caught in the beginnings of another hallucination, had trouble understanding him. She thought he said, “I have a message for you.” Then he half rose, turning his head as he did so. His next words were clear and unmistakable. “Someone’s coming.”

Hope flared, then as quickly died. If it was Blade, he was too late to help. The orange maggots had already reached her, swarming over her lower body, crawling under the coat that covered her and up her bare legs.

She writhed in pain, shrieking as the oily acid residue from their bodies burned into her skin. “Get them off me! Get them off me! Get them off me!”

The boy froze in mid-crouch, alarm and confusion as to what he should do transparent on his face. He stared stupidly at the gag grasped in one of his hands. His battle with indecision ended abruptly, and he vanished, the strip of cloth fluttering to the ground in his wake.

…

Blade would bet money that the man waiting for him in front of the rooming house was the Godseeker, Justice.

He estimated the remaining fingers of time until sunset, debated changing his course, then discarded the thought. He had no wish to speak with the Godseeker but could hardly avoid him without raising suspicion, and the fact that Justice was waiting for him meant he was suspicious of something already.

The older man was heavier set than Blade, although not as tall, but the bulk of his weight appeared to be muscle. The potential for cruelty creased his eyes and the corners of his mouth, unpleasantly reminiscent of Blade’s dead uncle. As a young boy he had not been able to defend himself. He remembered well the impotence of his situation.

A boy, however, eventually grew into a man. For a woman, there would be no hope of escape.

“Good afternoon,” the Godseeker said to him as Blade limped closer to the steps.

Blade saw the man’s glance flicker to his leg, then away, but not before he had registered the Godseeker’s contempt. He did not take offense from it. When Blade had first been crippled, he’d wished for death. He had resented the similar looks he’d received from men who dismissed him as having no real value because of his handicap. In truth, he had valued himself even less than they did. Long before his leg was healed, however, he had learned that the measure of a man was not based on the length of his stride.

He nodded to the Godseeker but did not stop as he passed him. He placed one foot on the bottom step and reached for the railing to help drag him upward.

“A moment, friend.”

Blade froze, turned, and met the man’s eyes. I am not your friend.

The unspoken correction hung in the air between them. Surprise punctured the Godseeker’s arrogance, and he reassessed his approach. A new look entered his eyes, as if he thought he should know Blade but could not quite place his face.

Blade’s infamy in this part of the world had once been legendary, but more than ten years had passed. He had changed.

He waited for the older man to speak again.

“What brings you to Goldrush?” the Godseeker asked.

Blade shrugged. “It was in my path.”

Justice folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a post as if settling in for a lengthy conversation, the movement placing his back to the sun. The wide brim of his hat cast his face into shadow.

“There are lots of things in people’s paths these days,” he said. Somewhere inside the rooming house, a door slammed. “Spawn, for example. Maybe you’ve seen some in your travels.”

“Not that I know of, but I’m told they favor their fathers.” Blade patted his leg. “And I’ve seen a demon up close. They’re exceptionally ugly, so their spawn shouldn’t be too difficult to identify.”

Justice was watching him the way a snake watched a crippled rat. “You were at the town meeting last night and saw the female spawn escape.”

Blade did not deny it. The woman at the store had remarked on his presence already, and he did not want to raise more suspicion. He was losing time.

He hitched the bag of goods he had purchased higher on his shoulder. “I walked across the entire desert and saw no signs of either demon or spawn.” He kept his tone flat, unemotional. “The last time I got too close to a demon it tried to eat me alive. I learned to stay as far away from them as possible. Whatever this woman is, she’s your problem, not mine.”

He climbed the last few steps, indicating the conversation was finished, at least from his perspective.

“You’re an assassin,” Justice said to his retreating back.

Blade stiffened. At first, he thought he had been recognized. Then he realized, from the angle of the other man’s head, that one of his knives was poking out of his clothing. He could not believe his carelessness. His weapons were not as well hidden in his new clothing as they would have been in the coat he left with Raven. In the past, such a mistake would have cost him his life. The thought left him uneasy.

“A long time ago. Not anymore,” he replied.

Justice was regarding him in a different light now. A well-trained assassin would not need two good legs to be deadly. Blade could almost see his brain calculating the possibilities.

“Once an assassin, always an assassin. Each of you has a duty to defend the territory of the goddesses from demons. That includes demon spawn.”

“Goddesses don’t have territory here anymore, and neither do demons. My only duty is to myself, and as I’ve already told you, I’ve seen no sign of spawn. Your stepdaughter is your problem.”

Recognition finally dawned on Justice’s face. “I know who you are,” he said, arrogance returning to his manner. “I’ll pay you to bring her back to me, but I want her alive. I know your reputation.”

I know your reputation.

In those early days, when Blade had been an untested boy unable to be selective about the work he accepted, he had been forced to hunt down two desperate women who’d run from slavery. He had not returned them to their owners alive—not because he’d wanted to kill them but because death had been preferable to them. Neither would have survived for long on her own. They faced starvation at the very least. At the worst, the demons would have gotten them. Killing the women had been a kindness on his part. They had begged him for it. That did not mean he had enjoyed it or was proud of the reputation he’d earned because of it.

Raven was a different type of woman altogether. She could survive on her own. But not in her current situation.

“Keep your money,” he said. “I don’t like demons. If she’s spawn, and she crosses my path, she’s as good as dead.”

The Godseeker’s face darkened and his jaw tightened, but he did not press Blade further. He took a step back to signal he was done. “It’s your choice. If you kill her, there’s a reward for her body. If she’s returned alive, the reward will be greater.”

A bounty had been placed on Raven’s head. Blade steeled his expression even as unease ran through him. The sun was inching toward the deepening skyline—he had been gone too long.

He did not pause this time, or otherwise acknowledge the Godseeker’s parting words, but opened the door at the top of the steps and entered the rooming house.

He collected his things, settled his bill, and limped slowly and carefully from the town.

When he was well out of sight and certain he had not been followed, he broke into a slow, sustainable jog.

The return journey took him longer than expected with the weight of his purchases. Rather than worry about what he might find when he reached Raven as he trekked, he occupied his thoughts with plans for what to do once he did.

They needed a water supply and somewhere to sleep. A place for them to hide for a few days. In the morning he would circle to the other side of the town where the mountain streams flowed into the valley. There would be plenty of shelter in those parts. The problem then became wolven, but Blade had dealt with worse.

The horizon glowed a deep, rich purple by the time he reached the copse of yucca where he had left her. He found no indication of trespassers or animal scavengers, and his chest relaxed. All was peaceful and quiet.

Too quiet. Blade tried to pinpoint just what was wrong.

The sudden sound of ear-piercing screams had him dropping his packs, and his slow jog turned into a run.

Chapter Five

Raven panted through the tremors racking her frame, her throat raw and sore. This time, she knew she had been screaming.

Shadows shifted and the orange maggots disappeared. A black shape loomed over her, and she threw her head back, too exhausted to care that the demons had found her. But a part of her did not want to die, and she dug deep to summon another scream.

Hands untied her bonds and she was wrapped in warm, un-demon-like arms, surrounded by a calming strength of will. Immediately, the desire to scream disappeared.

Solid fingers grasped her chin. “Raven!” their owner commanded. The voice held neither warmth nor compassion, at odds with the emotions she sensed. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

That was something she did not wish to do. Not for any reason. What if this was some game being played by a demon?

The flat of a palm struck her, not hard, but enough to induce a reaction. Her eyes flew open, and she could have wept with relief when she saw a familiar mortal face.

Blade had returned for her.

He cradled her awkwardly in his arms. At once, her demon responded to his presence. She felt it prowling inside her, the strong pull of its desire for him, and she was too tired to contain it. Its attraction to Blade was the least of her worries.

“Where’s the boy?” she asked. She looked around, but the shadows were upon her again and she could not see very far.

“What boy?”

“I don’t know him.” Her anxiety grew. She twisted the front of Blade’s shirt, trying to draw herself upright. “We have to run.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair as he held her down. “It’s the snake venom,” he said to her. “Whatever you see isn’t real.”

“I see you,” she said.

His steady gaze never wavered from her face. He gently squeezed his fingers around the fist she had clenched in his shirtfront, pressing her hand to his beating heart. “I’m real enough. See? The rest is just the poison.”

She wanted to believe him. But then a current of cool, nocturnal air chased across her hot skin before rattling through the dry yucca above them. “So are the demons.” Her breath hitched. “And they’re coming.”

She had to get past this fear so they couldn’t find her. She relaxed her fist and spiked her fingers through his, absorbing his strength. Even as she clung to his hand, the brilliant night shadows reclaimed her and the mortal world slipped away.

The lava-filled lake from earlier was gone. This time jagged, barren cliffs and scattered craters surrounded her. Lightning streaked across the lavender sky, igniting the blue-green, rocky terrain of the boundary. A bolt of white flame struck a boulder, blasting it to pieces, and she flinched as chunks of debris flew past her face. The harsh smell of rotten eggs stung her nose and scratched her raw throat, making her gag.

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she discovered she had not come here alone.

Blade stood beside her, exuding the air of a caged animal—watchful, alert, and ready to strike at the first sign of danger. She lowered her hand to see a thin line of red appear through a tear in his shirtsleeve. One of the sharp rock projectiles had cut him.

Her breath caught. Blood in the vicinity of demons was not good.

He flexed the fingers she had been holding as if they pained him. She had not realized how tightly she’d clung to him. Enough to create problems, it seemed. She had not known that she could bring someone with her.

“What is this place?” he asked, sounding both tense and grim.

“This,” she replied, apprehension a tightening knot around her aching throat, “is the boundary.” She tore a small strip off her ruined dress and dabbed at the blood on his arm. The cut was not deep and had already stopped bleeding, and relief softened her creased brow. She balled up the bloodied wad of fabric and threw it as far away as she could. “If you had any doubts before as to what I am, then this place should convince you.”

“I didn’t need any convincing of that.” His jaw worked. “But this can’t be the boundary.”

“It doesn’t belong to the goddesses,” she said. “This is the boundary that demons pass through. It’s as close as they can get to the mortal world, now that they’ve been banished.”

He looked around, his expression closed and forbidding. “Is it a nightmare? Or is it real?”

“It’s real. Very much so.” And she was no longer in control of what she might find in it, she remembered with a shudder.

She pushed emotion aside, mindful of where she was, and scanned the eerie, luminescent terrain. Demons would be coming for her.

For them both.

She shoved a hand through her tangled curls. Her father had not yet made an appearance, which could be either good or bad. Her fingers went to her throat. Even though he had said the amulet was of no use to her, it offered her comfort.

She did not know how the goldthief-induced hallucinations would affect her ability to survive, or if she could protect Blade. She did not know what thoughts the hallucinations had captured from her, or how they might manifest, only that when they did, it would be impossible for her to distinguish them from reality.

She did know that she could not show fear here.

To make matters worse, her demon was restless, hungering for Blade, leaving Raven both frustrated and uneasy. Ripples of desire she could not stanch turned her into a beacon for demons.

Blade’s hands lingered at his lean hips, his wide shoulders relaxed and elbows slightly bent as if he waited for something to happen. He managed to appear both calm and menacing.

She caught a movement from the corner of her eye. A multi-armed, low-bodied shape skittered around a large rock, then skirted the edge of a glowing crater before slipping into a crevice several feet from where they stood.

Blade’s hand moved in a blur. One minute it hovered above his hip. The next, a knife sang through the air and shot into the crevice. A high-pitched squeal rose from the narrow gap before dying abruptly away.

As Blade started toward the crevice, Raven reached out to stop him. When her fingers closed on his wrist, her demon reacted, urging her to touch him more intimately, to slide her hands inside his shirt, to feel the heat of his flesh against hers.

He brushed her hand off, although gently, as if he knew her thoughts and wished to save her the embarrassment, and she felt her face heat. She tucked her hands under her arms and fought back against her darker instincts.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m retrieving my knife. And making certain that thing, whatever it is, is dead.”

He sounded so calm. Raven had sensed strength in Blade already, had even sought to use it as protection against the hallucinations, but she had not fully comprehended until now how dangerous he could be if provoked.

The combination of danger, restraint, and compassion in him intrigued her. She could see why her demon wanted him, but despite his strengths, he was a mortal man who would not last long if demons discovered them. The thought left her trembling, and she cast her eyes over the bluffs above them.

“We need to find a place to hide until this nightmare passes,” Raven said.

Blade reached a hand into the crevice and withdrew his knife. He wiped it clean on the blue-green, gritty soil. He looked up at her, the expression on his high-cheek-boned, angular face unreadable. “Now I know why you’re afraid of the dark.”

With effort, Raven stilled her shaky, rebellious limbs. “Listen carefully to me.” She whispered the words quickly. “Whatever happens, you can’t show fear. Don’t even talk about it. Not in this place.”

He slipped the knife into a hidden seam in the leg of his snug trousers and stood. A long rumble of thunder punctuated the movement.

Urgency sharpened her manner. “We need to hide.”

“Why?” he demanded. Another flash of lightning captured him in a haze of bluish-green light. “Are you afraid?”

Of course she was, but she would not admit it. She buried her fear as deep as she could and willed for him to do the same. She did not want to die. And she did not want him to die because of her.

“No.” The lie slid easily from her lips. “And neither are you,” she added, hoping he would pick up on her meaning. “But the hallucinations are creating a complication in both worlds for me now. Until they pass, hiding is the wisest option.”

Blade’s jaw muscles worked. “I won’t hide from demons. Not for any reason.”

Her heart sank. He might not show it on his face or in his manner, but he reeked of fear—and if she could smell it, he would never be able to hide it from them. If they caught him, they would delight in breaking him, and she doubted if he would be easily broken.

She stepped close to him, and putting all her strength in it, slapped his face so hard his head rocked back.

Surprise lit his eyes. The fear she had smelled in him retracted but was not replaced by anger as she had hoped. He did not retaliate for the blow either. He had an impressive control of himself and the majority of his emotions, from what she could tell. She wondered what had happened to him to make him fear demons so much, because he didn’t seem to fear much else.

The mark of her palm showed clearly on his reddened cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked.

She grasped the front of his shirt and pulled his head down near her mouth, disliking having to utter words that should never be voiced in this place.

“I smell your fear,” she breathed into his ear. “Contain it. Bury it. Then we’ll hide from them because we don’t want to give them a chance to provoke it. If you’re afraid of them, they’ll kill you, and it won’t be merciful. Do you understand?”

His fear of demons clearly did not extend to her, and for a few seconds, she thought he would disregard her warning. Then, reluctantly, he nodded, and she released the front of his shirt.

“Do you know a place we can hide?” he asked, equally quiet.

“I think so.”

She reached for his hand, intending to guide him through the gloomy light, but he shied away from her touch. While she understood why he did not want her to touch him again, hurt from the slight lanced her heart. She quickly suppressed it but not before he saw.

He tapped the hilt of one of his knives. He had a lot of them hidden in his clothing—more than she’d noted earlier, when he’d had her pinned to the ground on the ledge.

“I need my hands free,” he said.

She fought back a gasp. She should have known he was an assassin. That explained his ability to control his emotions and why he was so difficult to read.

She did not know how she felt about the discovery. Certainly not safer. Assassins belonged to the Godseekers. But even an assassin would have a difficult time against demons, particularly here, in a boundary they had claimed.

Raven picked up a small stone and tossed it a few paces away from them. The ground opened up as it landed. Green puffs of foul-smelling steam erupted skyward.

She watched Blade’s face closely as the stone disappeared, swallowed by the fissure. The crack vanished, leaving smoothly stable earth where it had gaped open just a moment ago. Other than a slight tightening of the skin around Blade’s dark eyes, he did not react.

Again, she was impressed with his control.

“These sinkholes can appear without warning,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t step from the path I set.”

She did not tell him that she’d crafted the sinkholes as a way of protecting herself when she’d been a child—not from demons, but from Justice. She’d come here to hide from him. Back then, she had been too young to understand where she was.

Blade nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

They picked their way through the craters and crevices, instinct and memory guiding Raven. Her leg ached from the snakebite, and she could not fully bend her knee. Although the venom seemed to have less of a hallucinogenic effect on her here—presumably because of her demon heritage—she could not be sure that what she saw was real. Or that it was harmless. Any misstep or error in judgment could prove fatal.

A short while later, Blade dropped a hand to her shoulder.

“Something is following us,” he mouthed when she turned to see what he wanted.

Behind him she caught a glimpse of a shadow, then another. A few more appeared on the bluffs above them, and resignation settled into her soul.

They had been discovered.

…

“We’ll have to fight them,” Raven said.

It was not what Blade wanted to hear but more or less what he had expected.

This place made his skin crawl. The odd, watery lighting, the unrelenting storm of lightning and thunder…

The presence of demons.

And yet a part of Raven loved this. He could see it in the sparkle of her brilliant, diamond-fired eyes. Did she know that they glowed blue in the dim light of their surroundings?

The effect was startling. Mesmerizing. Erotic.

Blade shook off the thought, taking her warning about exhibiting weakness and fear here to heart. Desire was a definite weakness, more so because it was unlikely this feeling was natural. He forced himself to focus on the danger, the more immediate concern. Raven might be half demon, but she’d be no match for a full-blooded one. Her size alone worked against her. So did the fact she was female and still suffering from the goldthief bite, although the hallucinations seemed to have abated.

Perhaps this boundary worked in her favor in that regard.

“I’ll handle the fighting,” Blade said. “You’re going to hide.”

He silently drafted a plan. In his head he ran through the location of each of his knives in his new clothing, wishing he’d had time to become more familiar with them. A demon’s vulnerability when in demon form was between the chinks in their bone plating.

He would have to allow them to come within throwing range, a thought that did not appeal to him. The horror of being eaten alive by a demon was a difficult memory to submerge. At the time, shock had numbed any pain. Wet, tearing sounds were what he recalled most.

“You’ll never defeat them without me,” she said.

Already, he could see the bright anticipation of battle in her eyes. She had no idea what she faced. He wasn’t going to be able to convince her to leave the fighting to him.

He would have to keep as close an eye on her as possible. If she died, it would not be because he had not done his best to protect her. But he would kill her himself rather than abandon her to demons.

“Very well,” he conceded as he pressed one of his knives into her palm. She wrapped her fingers around its hilt, her fingertips brushing his knuckles and sending shocks through his skin. For a second he lost his train of thought. He scrambled to recover it. “We’ll have to let them get close to us. It’s the only way to—”

A demon leaped from the top of a cliff, interrupting his instructions, and landed on rock-solid legs with an earth-shuddering thud. Blade’s knife pierced the joint of bone plating between its chest and the vulnerable area under its arm. Another of his knives caught it in the shoulder.

Unfortunately, he was not close enough to do it any real harm. It brushed off the two knives as if they were dust, little more than a minor annoyance. Stalking forward, its flaming-red eyes latched on Raven. As it approached her, it shifted into human form.

The shift disconcerted Blade. He saw that it startled Raven, too. Why would the demon make itself vulnerable?

“Well, well,” the man-demon said to her, interest alive in his expression. “What have we here?”

Other demons arrived as he spoke. Blade counted ten in all, but none of them paid him any attention. All eyes were on Raven. It was as if Blade didn’t exist. He went to reach for another knife but could not move his arms and legs.

Alarm rose in him, more difficult to suppress. He refused to stand back, helpless, and watch what they did to her. He would not lose this battle.

The first demon, the closest, glanced his way. Blade’s hand moved an inch before freezing again.

“Run!” Blade shouted at Raven.

“No.” She sounded calm, unalarmed. She had the knife he’d given her curled in one fist. With the other hand, she touched her fingertips to the amulet at her throat as if in prayer. “I can protect us. They want me, not you. And as long as they’re close, but not interested in you, you’ll stay paralyzed. If they intend to harm you, you’ll be free to defend yourself.”

More than any other sensation Blade disliked that of helplessness, and he did not want to place his life in her hands.

Perhaps she feels the same way about her life and you.

The flash of insight cleared his head. She knew this world. She was part of it. He should trust her.

He had no other choice.

Forcing himself to watch as the man-demon reached for her was not easy. It touched the smooth, golden curve of breast subtly peeking from the bodice of her ragged, dirty dress. Short black-and-red ringlets framed the perfection of her face. In the peculiar half dusk, her sparkling eyes glowed with blue fire. Sensuality emanated from her in palpable waves.

Then, Blade knew for certain what it was that she did, and why she was safe. She lured demons the same way she did men. And once she touched them, she owned them—exactly as her stepfather had said.

With lightning swiftness, she seized the demon’s hand where it rested against her exposed flesh. As she did, she drove the knife Blade had given her into its heart with her other hand.

The expression on the man-demon’s face changed from desire, to confusion, then shock. Its eyes rolled back in its head, and as it sank to its knees, its hold on Blade broke and he was free. He fired off three knives in rapid succession and three more demons fell before they could get close enough to restrict his movements.

Four demons down. Six to go.

Number five advanced on Raven, the desire and determination in its eyes accompanied by caution now. It had no interest in Blade, not even glancing his way, and again, he found himself frozen in place and unable to help her.

When she stabbed demon number five, the paralysis on Blade broke again. He threw two more knives with unerring accuracy, and two more demons fell.

He had only one knife left, and there were three demons remaining.

This time, as the demons advanced, he did not lose the use of his arms and legs. If Raven was right about how the immobilization worked, it meant they were coming for him. He held his position, reconciling himself to hand-to-hand combat and probable death. He hoped it would be swift.

“Stay close to me,” Raven said to him.

Blade rolled the knife in his palms, calculating its weight and balance. They could not seem to hold their demon forms in her presence. If he stayed close to her, he would be fighting men. The odds were still not great, but they were far better than before. Demons were unused to fighting in mortal form—Blade would have the advantage now.

Except that Raven sent lust shivering through him in waves, and he had to fight that, too. He was no more immune than the demons, only better prepared for it.

“Keep your back against mine,” he instructed Raven. “You don’t need to touch me”— it was best if she didn’t—“but you do need to stay close enough that they can’t get between us.”

She nodded, not speaking, her knife held at the ready.

He did not take his eyes off the man-demons now circling them. “Don’t attack them with the knife. Wait for one to get close to you and then touch him, like you did with the first two. Leave the others to me.”

They came at Blade and Raven as a single unit.

If they’d hoped to overwhelm them, they were mistaken. Blade drove his knife into the neck of one man-demon. Raven did not attack either of the remaining two as he had been afraid she might. Instead, she dropped her knife at the last moment and touched both of them with her palms. The demons stopped dead in their tracks, their expressions twisted by a conflicting excitement at her touch and frustrated awareness of what was to come. Raven turned her face away, closing her eyes and biting the inside of her cheek while Blade finished them off.

The danger was gone, at least for the moment.

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” Raven said. Her breath came in harsh, strangled gasps.

He was surprised that it affected her so deeply. Only that morning, he had prevented her from murdering her stepfather in a cold-blooded ambush. Did she not understand what that meant?

If she hadn’t known before, she did now.

He did not dare touch her. The sensuality she exuded remained at such a high level he doubted she had it under control, leaving him heavily aroused as it was. Adrenaline from the fight would not help tame it.

“Sit down and put your head between your knees,” he suggested.

She stumbled to an outcropping of rock nearby and did as he’d said. He stooped to pick up the knife she had dropped, then reclaimed the rest, giving her a few minutes of privacy. One by one, with loud sucking sounds, the bodies of the dead demons sank into the soil, swallowed by the sinkholes she had warned him of.

He wiped the knives clean, first on the ground, then on the leg of his trousers, before carefully testing each edge with his thumb. Then, they disappeared into his clothing.

Once they were safely hidden, he examined the landscape around them. She claimed this was a demon boundary. If so he wondered where it led, and if it had any connection at all to the boundary set in place by the goddesses.

The goddess boundary, however, had been established in the mortal world. This one was not, and he had no wish to travel it farther. He would restrict his explorations of the unknown to the world where he belonged.

As he mused, his arousal gradually diminished, although it did not disappear. But he had given her too long to recover already.

“The smell of blood will draw more demons to us,” he finally said, scanning the cliff tops stacked against the jagged sky.

She lifted her head, faint pink staining her cheeks.

“No,” she replied, raking her hands through her curls. “They’ll leave us alone, at least for tonight. The immortals aren’t so great in number anymore that they can afford to surrender this many.”

Some good had come from this, then. Blade could not be sorry she had drawn him into this world if depleting their numbers was the result. “All the more reason to kill as many of them as we can while we’re here.”

She looked at him in disbelief. Distress filled her eyes. “You don’t understand. I’ve done a terrible thing.” Tension quivered in her voice and she turned her face away. “I’ve proved I belong here.”

Chapter Six

She had not wanted for any of this to happen. She had not wanted to fight demons. The one she carried inside her was battle enough. All she’d wanted was to find Creed and safety and to rid the world of Justice and be free.

Her independence was far more dubious here than in the mortal world. The amulet her father had given her mother throbbed where it rested against the bare skin above her heart. Whether she liked it or not, she had a connection to him that was gaining in strength. She could not lure him as she had the others. He was one demon she could not fight. She rubbed her arms. He had said if she survived the night he might have a use for her.

But the night was not over yet.

While nothing in Blade’s expression gave away what he was thinking, whatever it was, it could not be flattering. She watched him as he stared at the tops of the cliffs, monitoring for danger while giving her time to recover, pretending he was unaware of the desire for him that she could not seem to get under control. She was almost as puzzled by that as he.

But not quite.

He was too hard to be beautiful. His face, all sharp angles and dark, shadowed planes, could best be described as ruthless. He wore his black hair with no-nonsense severity, pulled back and restrained with a leather tie so that the stark lines of his cheekbones were more pronounced. Yet her artist’s fingers itched to explore the evenness of those harsh features. She saw such richness and depth in those intelligent, black-coffee eyes. She caught his thoughts and emotions in rare, brief, unguarded moments when something surprised him, and knew there was so much more to him. Her demon clawed with impatience to be near him. To touch him. To possess him.

And he hated demons.

“I’m not a demon,” she said out loud.

Blade’s flat expression did not change. “I never said you were.”

He could not help but think it though—she was sure of it. She sighed. Exhaustion settled in, and her leg throbbed, still angry and swollen when she looked down at her puncture wound. A place to hide—from everything—would be more than welcome right now.

“We should get moving,” she said. “Find a place to rest for a bit.”

He nodded and followed her through the murky light and broken terrain to a small cave she knew well. She eased into a small fracture in the rock, its edges expanding when she pushed against them and contracting once she passed through. Blade shouldered his way in behind her.

The interior of the cave was open and roomy and glowed with the same blue-green light as the rest of the demon world. Raven collapsed on the soft, dry, sandy floor as Blade explored the deeper recesses of the cave. She had to turn in order to keep him in her line of sight. He hunched his shoulders where the ceiling narrowed, his broad frame filling the shrinking space. Caged energy coiled around him.

He was putting distance between them, as aware of her as she was of him. Never had she reacted to a man in this way, as if she could not get enough of him, could not breathe if he was not near.

“What are you doing?” she asked, hoping to distract herself.

Blade looked up from his studious examination of the pliant walls. “How much longer do you think we’ll be stranded here?”

“Until the night is over, or I wake up,” she said. This was her demon’s domain. When she slept, or hallucinated as she did now, she had less control over its natural instincts to bring her here.

Blade frowned. “Can we be sure that when you do, I’ll still be with you?”

Raven had not considered any alternate possibility. Guilt assailed her. Despite how he had fought them, and no matter how deep he buried it, she had felt his fear of demons. He would not survive here without her for long. She had begged him not to abandon her, and he had not, and she could not abandon him either. She tried to think of some solution.

“We were touching when the demon world called me,” she said.

A subtle shift in the dark depths of his eyes told her he recognized the danger she could cause and he did not want to touch her again. After what she had done to the demons she could hardly blame him. But she could not leave him here. She would never forgive herself.

She braced a hand on the wall and levered awkwardly to her feet, hampered by her aching leg. He made no move to help her, although his body tensed as if prepared to do so if necessary.

She smoothed her tattered dress over her hips and limped to stand in front of him. Compared to her, he seemed a giant. She had to tilt her chin in order to read his face, and therefore his emotions, with greater accuracy, but she did not try to touch him.

That move would have to be his.

“The mortal world and this boundary are two distinct places,” she said. “Both are real, but I can’t guarantee that what happens in one remains true in the other. I won’t apologize to anyone for what I am,” she added. “I didn’t plan my birth. I didn’t choose my parents. I will, however, own any decisions I make and the consequences of them. I asked you not to leave me alone, and for that, I accept full responsibility for you being here. I’m trying to ensure I don’t leave you behind. You can either face your fears and take my hand and increase our odds for success, or you can take your chances without me. That decision is yours.”

Curiosity entered his gaze as well as desire—hot, but carefully contained. Anticipation she could not suppress licked up the insides of her thighs. The man was complex, exciting. Attractive, in spite of that thick layer of harshness—or perhaps because of it.

“Do you think I’m afraid to touch you because you’re half demon?” Blade asked her, his voice dangerously soft. “Or to have you touch me?” She stood too close to him, becoming caught in the tangle of his conflicting emotions, and could not back away. Need spiked through her. He dipped his head so that his breath feathered her neck and ear, sending eager shivers curling through her core. He reached out to stroke a light palm down her hip, then drew her against him so that her face rested against his chest. “After you warned me not to show fear in this place?”

No, he was not afraid. A different, more intense emotion caused the hesitation she sensed—desire. Need. The male, mortal scent of him left her light-headed. Her demon could not help but react with pleasure at the blinding certainty that she could have him if she wanted him.

And she did. But she did not want him to think she had somehow claimed him against his will. That accusation had been leveled against her too many times in the past.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a steady, reassuring vibration of sound that spoke of strength and confidence, until her own heart rate returned to normal and her demon had calmed.

“You don’t frighten me,” Blade said, his words rumbling through her.

She did not dare speak. Her own emotions remained too chaotic. Instead, she withdrew an arm from around his waist to slide her palm down his forearm until she touched his hand. She laced her fingers through his, his fist swallowing hers. His other hand pressed at the small of her back, continuing to hold her to him.

His head, slightly bent over hers, encouraged her to stretch to the tips of her toes and drop a kiss at the corner of his mouth. He shifted his face so that her kiss encountered his lips.

Shivers of desire snaked through her abdomen at the heat of the connection between them. The tight knot in her stomach slowly unclenched as the chaos of uncertainty inside her settled to breathless anticipation.

Blade deepened the kiss, one hand holding hers, the other trailing upward to the nape of her neck so that his fingers tangled in her short-cropped curls. She sighed softly, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensations he aroused. His hand fell from her hair to ease into the front of her dress. Cupping her breast, he rolled its nipple between his thumb and one finger, the delicate motion eliciting small sounds of pleasure she could not believe were her own.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered when he drew his hand away. When he did not respond, Raven opened her eyes. She caught caution and regret swelling in his.

“This isn’t the time or place,” he said, although he made no move to release her.

She knew he would let her go if she asked him to. She had but to say the word.

She could not blame her reluctance to do so entirely on her demon. “When would be a better time?” she asked. “When I’m in the middle of another hallucination? When I’m running from Godseeker assassins?” She paused, unsettled. “Or perhaps you really are afraid of what I am.”

“What you are is a brave, beautiful, and desirable woman.” His words came out soft but emphatic, and the palm he placed on her cheek was softer still. “I’m not afraid of you. Not here or anywhere else. I think you’re the one who has something to fear right now.”

…

Between the goldthief bite and the lingering effects of adrenaline, she wasn’t entirely in control of her own actions.

He had no such excuse. He opened his mouth to say more. To put a stop to this.

She tugged the tail of his shirt from his trousers and slipped her fingers along the hard, bare plane of his stomach, then lowered her head to press her lips to the flesh she had exposed. He struggled to breathe, to find a way to extricate them both from a situation that was already too far out of hand. Instead he smelled the freshness of her hair and felt the smooth softness of her skin beneath his hands as her warm lips skimmed across the sensitive flesh above his navel.

His body thrummed with pleasure, and he pulled her toward him so he could take her mouth with his. When she parted her lips for him, ever so slightly, he edged his tongue between them to sweep against hers. She tasted sweetly innocent, despite her bold words.

The thought of her possible innocence gave him pause. He was uncertain of her true level of experience and suspected it was not high, although he had nothing on which to base the assumption other than instinct. But he found her exciting, and that was something that had been missing from his life for a very long time. He felt more alive than he had in a decade.

He wouldn’t rush her, or take more than she wanted to give, but he longed to feel her.

He took her face in his palms and kissed her again, but with more passion this time. As he felt her relax, he let his hands drift slowly down the delicate curves of her throat to the neck of her dress. The tattered remains slid from her shoulders to pool at her narrow waist. Slowly, allowing her time to protest if she wished, he eased it over her rounded hips and let it drop to the cave floor.

She closed her eyes, not out of modesty, but with a slight sigh of pleasure on her lips. He had to admire how lovely she looked, bathed in the unusual lighting. He tucked a wild curl behind her ear, allowing his fingers to track the line of her jaw. She drew in a sharp breath.

And still, she did not call a halt.

Hands trembling from exercising restraint, he drew his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She slid her hands down to unbutton his trousers. Soon they were touching, his heated flesh to hers. She opened her eyes and murmured his name. As he lifted her into his arms she wrapped her legs around him, and he rested her slender back against the cave’s soft wall. Bracing her against him with one hand he guided his erection to her cleft with the other, then had a fleeting moment of concern.

She might look delicate, but she was not. She’d escaped her stepfather. Had held her own when he’d stopped her from killing the Godseeker with her arrow. She’d overpowered demons. Her air of innocence was part of her protection. She was confident and fought for what she wanted.

As she clung to him her breath came in small ragged pants, and when she looked at him he saw raw, undisguised hunger in her heavy-lidded eyes. He touched the tip of his erection to her opening, feeling her dampness, and could not contain a low growl of need.

“I want you,” she said, her voice husky.

That was all the invitation he needed. He thrust upward and she gasped, her tightness clenching around him like a fist. He dared not move, not even to withdraw. Resting his forehead against hers, he struggled to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Are you—”

“Don’t.” Determination gleamed in her eyes as if she prepared for battle. “I need a moment, that’s all.”

She started to move her hips against his a moment later, and he moved at her pace, stroking himself inside her as gently as he could, until her quick breaths turned to quiet cries of pleasure.

It became impossible to think of anything but the physical sensations she aroused in him. Slow tremors of release built inside her—he could feel them mounting, rippling along his erection until he groaned aloud with anticipation. He cupped her smooth buttocks in his hands, thrusting with greater intensity, and felt the heat of her release when it came. He shuddered, his own quickly erupting in response.

He held her close, steadying them against the cave wall until her shivering stopped and their breathing grew normal. Sweat-slickened skin glistened in the faint light. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Blade couldn’t tell if her silence meant regret. But then she opened her eyes, pale blue, glittering diamonds shining with faint surprise and intense satisfaction.

“Raven,” he began, then stopped as the world shifted around them without warning.

They were no longer in the cave in the boundary. They were back in the desert, fully clothed, as if they had never left.

Except night had passed. The dull sting of a thin cut on one arm, and the remnants of spent lust ebbing from his groin, also told him the evening’s events had not been a dream. He couldn’t pretend that their lovemaking hadn’t happened. Somehow, he had to deal with its aftermath, whatever it was.

He braced her unconscious, rag-doll body between his thighs, her head on his arm as he crouched in the grove of yucca and sage. The sounds of the awakening desert were audible in the cold, calm morning.

He had been her first. She had been even more of an innocent than he’d thought. Somehow, in the back of his mind, when he had heard the villagers speaking, he had assumed Creed was her lover. Guilt rippled beneath his skin and in his throat, leaving a poor taste in his mouth. His assumption and subsequent actions made him little better than the Godseeker who had tried to possess her by force.

He would be lying to himself, and to her, if he pretended it did not matter to him that she was half demon. It was not something she could easily overcome or that he could readily forget. But she had not tried to lie to him or pretend to be anything other than who she was. He could not make the same claim. He had long known he lacked moral fiber—killing came too easily to him—but he had not realized until now how low he had sunk, or that he could prey on an innocent—half demon, or not.

He had been in a position of trust. She had deserved far better from him.

I will not apologize to anyone for what I am.

She was beautiful and strong-willed, a survivor in two worlds—neither of which were kind to women. They would not be kind to the opposing sides of her nature—demon and mortal—either.

She was right when she said that she was not responsible for her birthright, only how she chose to deal with it. The same was true of anyone. He stroked his fingers through her damp ringlets, combing them away from her face.

Whatever the future brought, he sincerely hoped her two worlds, between them, did not destroy her.

Chapter Seven

Justice guided his hross through the first of the three mountain passes that led to the Temple of Immortal Right, the training ground of the Godseekers’ servants and protectors.

He wasn’t going to waste any more time searching for Raven so close to home. The whore would be brazen enough to approach the assassins in her search for sanctuary, believing Creed would help her. She had thrown the name in his face more than once. Justice was certain it was where she’d go, and he intended to close that venue of escape for her.

He could not shake his suspicion that the assassin Blade was now involved with her. Justice knew how tempting Raven could be, how potentially dangerous, and if she had the assassin helping her, he did not want to run into them on his own in the mountains. Therefore, accompanying Justice were two of his oldest and most loyal friends and companions, Cage and Might.

Cage, a thin and wiry man, was an expert at tracking. He believed Raven was not alone, confirming Justice’s suspicions regarding the cold-eyed assassin and that she was headed into the mountains.

The second man, Might, was a bald-headed, heavily tattooed giant. He straddled his broad-footed hross like a mountain balanced on a tabletop. His boots dangled bare inches above the rocky ground, forcing the animal beneath him to struggle despite its own impressive size, so that they had to stop for frequent rests.

They had been on the road for two days now. From this first pass, the men had a good view of the mountains as well as the valleys between them. Many of these valleys housed Godseeker-led settlements like his own, long dedicated to the mining of precious metals and the fabrication of jewelry and trinkets that had once pleased the goddesses. Over time, with their departure, mining production increased to include coins and various objects for trade.

The path Justice and his companions traveled was well worn by time but not often used anymore. So far, they had seen no one else.

Might drew his laboring mount to a halt and pointed a long, thick finger toward a valley ahead and slightly below them. A fine plume of dark-gray smoke spiraled lazily into the still, crisp morning air.

Justice and Cage reined in their hross beside him.

“It could be nothing,” Justice said, staring at the smoke, but he did not believe it. “We’ll check it out, just in case.”

It took them the rest of the morning to reach the settlement. Although juniper and pine were little more than scrub at this elevation and provided minimal concealment, wolven were known to hunt from many of the rocky nooks, crannies, and hidden crevasses. Caution was required.

As they approached the town, its emptiness soon became apparent. Abandoned buildings were all that greeted them. They rode through the narrow, cobbled streets, the hross becoming increasingly nervous in the eerie silence. The smoke they had observed from the mountain pass drifted from a smoldering pyre that had once been a temple to the goddesses. The smell wafting through the air was worse than anything Justice had ever experienced, and he pulled his neckerchief over his mouth and nose.

“Only demon fire could burn hot enough to do such a thing as this,” Cage said, his eyes flat and cold.

All three men glanced around, uneasy, but if it had been the work of demons, they were long gone. Something about this scene felt wrong to Justice. His amulet remained cold and dark, giving no warning of the presence of immortals, however residual. His attention fixed on the smoking remains of the temple, and he wondered if Raven were somehow responsible for this devastation.

He did not believe so. As much as he hated her for her arrogance and wanted her brought to her knees, he could not see her doing this. She had not been able to kill him when she’d had the chance but buried the knife in his leg rather than his heart.

Still, he could use this to his advantage. People believed her to be a demon. While no ability to use demon fire had ever been established, who was he to say whether or not Raven could raise it with absolute certainty?

“Demons are gone from the world,” he said. “Even if they weren’t, they couldn’t have traveled this far into lands the goddesses had claimed. Spawn are another matter. We have no idea what harm they can do. If this is any indication”—he swept his hand in a broad arc—“then it’s imperative the Godseekers take action against them.”

Might’s deep, gravelly voice rolled like a slow-moving rockslide from his throat as he, too, stared at the smoldering pyre. “Raven couldn’t have done such a thing. She’s little more than a girl.”

Justice narrowed his eyes in displeasure at his companion’s defensive comment. “On her own, most likely she couldn’t,” he said. “But she’s half demon. Who knows what her connection to them is? What she’s asked them to do, or what strength she draws from them?” He pushed a bit harder, planting more seeds of doubt regarding her innocence. “Why do you suppose these people were burned not three days after Raven was sentenced to the same fate?” He looked around them at the deserted streets. “How many more like her might there be amongst us, going undetected? Her mother was far from the only mortal woman to lie with a demon.”

Cage’s hross shied sideways beneath him, spooked by wind-driven debris tumbling past on the cobblestones. “Demons hate spawn,” he said, once he had his mount under control.

“They hate men, too,” Might replied.

“Demons or spawn, or a combination of the two, this isn’t a place I care to linger,” Justice said. What was important right now was to put as much distance between them and this travesty as possible, in case those responsible should happen to return. “We can’t help these people.”

He turned his mount around with a nudge of his knee and a tightening of the reins. A week on a hross would get them to the temple. Once there, he would enlist the aid of the assassins.

But no matter what, he would make certain Raven was brought back alive. Her mother had learned it was best not to defy him, and that was a lesson her daughter needed to be taught as well.

…

Raven awoke to a dry mouth, an aching head, and unfamiliar surroundings, but also with the certainty that this world was her own.

Daylight seeped through interwoven branches of fresh-cut, sharp-scented pinion. Someone—Blade—had constructed a crude shelter above her. From the front of the lean-to she could see jutting rock, spindly shrubs, and a sparkle of running water in a streambed. They were in the foothills, or very near them. A thin, scratchy blanket covered her, and everything hurt when she moved.

A rush of images flashed through her head. Her hands on his naked shoulders. His jaw clenched, head back and eyes closed, as he moved inside her.

Mortification seared her. Her demon had pursued and seduced him. She hoped he had not placed too much importance on that. In the boundary, to a demon, it meant little. Here, in the mortal world, it granted him legal rights over her if he chose to pursue them. It also meant Justice, a Godseeker, could charge him with theft if he did.

But they had not been intimate in this world. And in the boundary, it was her father whose claim on her she feared more than any other. It was best not to think about that.

She wondered how she could face Blade, how she should react. Maybe they would simply pretend that nothing had happened.

That was her preference. If he did not mention it, neither would she.

She must have made a noise. A long shadow fell across the opening of the shelter, and Blade’s head and shoulders appeared to block out the light.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone neutral.

She waited for everything to stop spinning, terrified the hallucinations would strike again, but the world slowly settled. She pried her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“Three days.” She could scarcely believe it.

Or that he had stayed with her, as he had promised.

He disappeared briefly from the lean-to. When he returned, he held a tin cup in his hand. He lifted her head and tipped the cup against her lips. Cool water slid down her parched throat, taking away much of the fiery agony.

He withdrew the cup before it was empty and set it aside. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

He brought her a plain piece of dried bread, which he broke in pieces and dipped in the remaining water before feeding to her.

She dozed off and on for the rest of the day.

By late afternoon she was awake again, and restless, and more observant. She wore a man’s shirt. Blade’s, she assumed. It reached her knees, baring her calves to the cold. When she checked, the swelling from the snakebite had dissipated, leaving only a slight discoloration and two tiny scabs.

Except for her hair, she felt remarkably clean. Something else it was best not to mention or contemplate too deeply.

“Ready to try and get up?” Blade asked, startling her. She had not heard him approach.

She nodded, and he helped her from the shelter.

They were, indeed, somewhere in the foothills, near one of the many mountain streams and surrounded by thin forest. Broken, rock-strewn terrain rose abruptly above them. Blade had built a small, smokeless fire on dry, well-swept ground near the stream, and he guided her to sit beside it as if she were elderly and fragile. A kettle of something wonderful-smelling hung on a tripod over the low flames. He scooped a little of the food into a tin plate and passed it to her.

“After you’ve eaten,” he said, “you can bathe if you’d like. You’ll sleep better for it. I can help if you still need it.”

She froze with the spoon halfway between the plate and her mouth. He revealed more to her by what he did not say than what he did. They were both well aware they had been intimate, and that he had seen to her personal needs for the past three days. In his practicality, he saw no further need for modesty. Raven, however, did not like feeling helpless. She had always been healthy.

“I can manage on my own,” she said.

They did not speak again until after she had finished the last of her meal and he had taken the plate from her and rinsed it in the stream.

She watched him as he worked. Physically, she felt better for having eaten. Emotionally, her thoughts remained chaotic. Proximity to him filled her with a deep longing, like the dull, gnawing pangs of an insatiable hunger. She wondered if he felt it, too.

If so, he hid it well.

He had his back to her as he stored the cleaned plate in one of his packs. “Who is Creed?” he asked.

The question was blunt and not at all casual. Caution kept her silent at first, wondering how best to answer and why he wanted to know. “Where did you hear that name?”

“You called for him.”

She knew she had not. During the long hours of hallucination after their lovemaking, Blade’s was the only presence she had clung to or sought. The terrors remained too fresh in her memory for her to forget such an important detail.

“Who else did I call for?” she asked.

He did not answer.

It was as she thought. She had called only for Blade, and it disturbed him. It disturbed her, too.

“Creed is an old friend,” she said. Her heart ached with a sudden longing, because whatever Blade might be at this moment, friend was not how she would classify him. “After I killed Justice, I planned to go to him for help.”

Blade set the pack aside. The sun had dropped behind the stooped treetops, coloring the world in deepening shades of purple and gray. His expression when he glanced at her was unreadable. “Where is Creed right now?”

“Somewhere in the mountains.”

“You were planning to go to him, but you don’t know where he is?”

She bit her lip, forced to admit that her plan was flawed and somewhat desperate. “Not for certain.”

“Is he by any chance a Godseeker assassin?”

While Raven could not read Blade as accurately as other people, she had no doubt that if she lied to him now, he would know. And that it would matter.

“He was called into training.” That was the truth. She had no idea if he’d progressed to assassin, although could not imagine that he hadn’t. Creed was like Blade in some respects—competent and larger than life.

Except Creed drew people to him. Blade pushed them away.

Blade reached for another tin plate. This one had been sitting on the ground, filled with crushed and moistened soap-root bulbs. He passed it to her. “Go bathe. Call me if you need help.”

He walked away from the fire, his tall, broad-shouldered figure sliding silently into the brush. She knew he would not go far in the same way she sensed he continued to want her. Blade was not a man to be ruled by emotion, but that did not mean he had none. The ones that involved her were easy enough to isolate, although not necessarily so simple to interpret.

The shallow stream trickled through wide fissures in the craggy mountain granite, its waters cold but not unbearably so. Raven peeled off Blade’s shirt before wading into a quiet, sheltered pool. She then sat on a rock, still warm from the day’s sun, while she lathered her hair and skin with the crushed soap root. She rinsed herself with handfuls of the clear water.

Feeling completely clean for the first time in days was beyond glorious. The threat of the lengthening shadows, however, filled her with dread. The terrors of the hallucinations had not faded, and likely would not for quite some time.

She shook out her short mass of ringlets, tidying them with her fingers before dropping Blade’s shirt over her head. It smelled of him, very masculine, and felt slightly oily from storage in the weatherproof canvas pack.

She had nothing of her own to wear. She had nothing at all that belonged to her anymore, other than the demon amulet around her neck and her bow and arrows. She felt a sharp pang of loss and a sense of uncertainty as to her future.

Blade reappeared as she approached the campfire, three fat quail swinging by their legs from his hand. Her heart quickened with relief at the sight of him. Despite the uneasiness between them he had become an anchor to her, someone she trusted, even more so than Creed.

Because Creed, no matter how much she loved him, had been more like a brother and did not stir the demon inside her the way this man did.

Blade held the quail upside down, plucking them quickly. Once they’d been gutted and cleaned, he threaded them onto long wooden skewers that he propped over the flames.

Raven sat on the other side of the fire, wrapped in her blanket. She held her bare feet out to the heated rocks lining the fire pit.

“We can either talk about your demon boundary now,” he finally said to her as he crouched on his heels by the fire, “or wait until you’re stronger.”

Dread fluttered through her. She hoped this was not going to be the discussion she wished to avoid. She studied her toes. “What about it?”

“When did you first discover it?”

His question relaxed her. He was interested in the boundary itself, not all that had happened in it. “When I was a little girl—around the same time Justice came into my mother’s life.” The darkness of those early days touched her, and she braced herself against the rush of memories. “It was a refuge for me at night. Then, about three months ago, demons began to appear in it. They’d call to me in my sleep, trying to summon me to them. Now it’s a nightmare.”

Raven watched Blade’s face as he sifted through what she had told him.

His dark-eyed expression gave nothing away, although his jumbled emotions, including the thread of a fast-suppressed fear, were what she would expect given such a conclusion.

“So demons can summon you,” he said.

“No. I said they tried,” she corrected him, though she did not know if that remained true now that her father knew of her existence. She had given him something. Some hold over her. She did not know what it might be.

“Then they must believe it’s a possibility.” He spoke to himself, as if puzzling out the logic. “Why wouldn’t it be possible? Back in Freetown I saw a priestess summon demons. Why couldn’t demons summon spawn?”

Grease from the roasting birds dripped into the hungry flames. The severe lines of his face softened and blurred in a blaze of light, like the smudgings made by a charcoal pencil on vellum when rubbed by an artist’s thumb.

Raven drew up her knees beneath the blanket and rested her chin on her kneecaps. She hugged her shins as she stared into the fire. “I didn’t escape from one form of servitude to have it replaced by another. I won’t be summoned.”

Blade balanced on his heels, his forearms braced against the tops of his thighs, and relaxed his strong hands between them. Always, she noted, he kept his hands unimpeded.

“You haven’t escaped anything yet,” he said. “If you’d killed your stepfather—who is one of the goddesses’ chosen—and then had gone into the Godseeker Mountains, their assassins would have had no choice but to kill you, too. Your friend Creed couldn’t have saved you. He probably can’t, even now.” Blade’s gaze remained steady, forthright. “Becoming one of their assassins changes a man, Raven. They’re killers, nothing more. I think you’re placing too much faith in your friend.”

“You’re an assassin,” Raven countered. She saw by the tightening of the fine lines around his lips that her assumption was correct. “Yet you stopped me from killing Justice even though you didn’t know me. You stayed with me and cared for me for three days. You fought demons with me.” You made love to me because I asked it of you, even though it was not what you wanted. “That makes you more than a killer.”

“I received the Godseekers’ training because I needed it, but I never became one of them. When it was obvious to them that I wouldn’t be what they wanted, they plotted to kill me.”

“Yet you survived.”

“It wasn’t easy. And the first chance I got, I attempted to cross the desert alone—through demon territory—to escape them completely.”

He had said attempted, not succeeded.

Raven had heard the stories of what demons did to the mortals they captured. She wondered if this was why Blade feared them so much. How had he managed to survive?

She did not ask. She, too, had things too difficult to discuss.

“Creed is more than a killer, too,” she said. “He’d never harm me or let anyone else do so.”

“I know you believe that.” Blade adjusted the quail skewers and added more kindling to the fire. “But I assure you, the training will change him. Going to him will be taking too much of a risk if you truly want to survive.” He looked up from his task. Deep brown eyes met hers. “Two nights ago, three Godseekers passed not far from here on their way into the mountains. One of them was your stepfather. Either he suspects that’s where you’ll head, or he plans to use the assassins against you. Probably both. He’s placed a bounty on you, you know. I found that out when I went back to Goldrush for supplies.” Sympathy crept into his eyes. “He’s offered to pay more if you’re brought to him alive.”

She would never go back. But Justice was two days ahead of her, and he knew the way to the temple. He would get to it first. Except… Blade knew how to get there, too. On foot, they could travel through shortcuts that a hross could not possibly navigate. There still might be time.

She would not give up hope. “Creed would never refuse to help me,” she said. “All I need to do is get to him. Would you guide me?”

He did not answer right away.

“I didn’t keep you alive for three days only to help you commit suicide,” Blade finally said. “I’d be willing to find a place for you to hide where you’ll be safe, but I won’t lead you to the temple. There are a number of small, isolated communities in the mountains.” A muscle contracted in his jaw. Other than that, he did not move as he continued to watch her. “But first, you’d have to guarantee me that demons won’t be able to harm the mortal world through you if I do.”

More than the raw, pine-scented wind chilled her now. She understood his silent message. He would not hesitate to do what he believed necessary in order to keep demons away from this world. That put her life in peril—she could give him no such guarantee.

She contemplated her stupidity. She was the one who had placed too much meaning on their lovemaking, not he. He owed her nothing, while she owed him far more than she could hope to repay. It would be best if she were done with him now and went her own way. She’d have to find Creed herself. Even if she could not join the assassins, he would find a way to help her.

Before the words had time to form on her lips, however, Blade twisted on his heels. His hand flashed to his hip.

“Whoever, you are, show yourself,” he commanded the shadows.

A thicket of rabbitbrush rustled as the blond boy who had sat with her during Blade’s absence crawled out from hiding. He was even dirtier and thinner than she recalled, and Raven’s breath caught at the sight of him. He faced Blade bravely, something she doubted many full-grown, healthy men could have done.

He lifted his chin a bit higher, looking Blade in the eye. “Demons aren’t what threaten this world.”

…

Instinct alone stayed Blade’s hand, and he did not remove it from the hilt of the knife at his hip. This half-starved boy did not realize how close he had come to death. Blade had no idea how he had gotten so close, only that it had not been by natural means. He narrowed his eyes at the implications of that.

“You’re spawn,” he said.

The boy stiffened, insulted. “My name is Roam.”

Roam’s attention shifted to Raven, with her untidy curls and bared legs. The interest in his eyes warned Blade he was too close to manhood to be trusted around her.

Frustration left Blade ill-tempered and dangerous. Rationale and past experience said that the demon in Raven could not be trusted either, but male instinct drove him to protect her, counteracting his usual common sense. He felt no such indecisiveness toward this boy or the demon blood in him. While Blade did not want to kill him in front of Raven, he would if given a reason.

A single step in her direction would be reason enough.

“You’re feeling better?” Roam was asking, the question directed at Raven.

She nodded, tugging the blanket tighter as if uncomfortable with the raw male scrutiny. It did not concern Blade as much as the discovery that Roam seemed to know of her recent illness. He remembered her asking him a question about a boy. At the time he had thought it part of a hallucination.

“Do you know him?” Blade asked her.

Her eyes, so bright they sparkled even in the gloom of approaching nightfall, fixed on him. “He stayed with me that first day, while you were gone.”

She had not intended any criticism, he knew. She understood he’d had no choice but to tie her. Still, an unpleasant knot formed in his chest. He had known that any number of things could have happened to her while he was gone and judged it worth the risk. Fortunately, nothing had. But the fact that Roam had managed to find her meant the danger had been greater than he’d suspected, and that did not sit well.

Roam again spoke to Raven. “Do you remember how I told you there are others like you and me? It seems some are less like us and more like our fathers.” Half turning, he lifted the tail of his shirt to expose the flesh above his bony ribs, which had been torn and bore partially healed, livid red scar tissue. Raven sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

Blade looked between Roam and Raven. “One of you had better explain this to me right now.”

Roam lowered his shirttail and faced him. “All my life I thought I was alone in the world. Then three months ago, everything changed. I began picking up the presence of others like me, so I set out to find them. Most seem to blend in well enough with their communities and don’t have any unusual abilities. They might not even know what they are. But some of us don’t blend in at all. I thought there might be safety in numbers, so I’ve been approaching a few who have obvious talents.” His chin, with its faint, scruffy-blond, adolescent growth of hair, trembled slightly as his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I discovered that some of them don’t need protection. Or want it. And that others are banding together, but not always for safety.”

It was as Blade feared, and the Godseeker, Justice, had claimed. Spawn were more common than anyone suspected, and with the demons gone, some of them had grown into their abilities.

Roam turned back to Raven. “Someone has attacked some of the smaller outlying towns. They’ve tried to make it look like demons, but it won’t be long before people realize the truth. Already, rumors are spreading.”

Blade had heard those rumors. He considered the further implications of what he was hearing. Raven had not answered him when he’d asked her for reassurance that the world would not be threatened by demons if he helped her, especially since they were trying to summon her to the demon boundary for some reason.

And who was to say that she was the only spawn being summoned? He looked at Raven as she worried the edge of the thick wool blanket with her fingers. The low flames in the fire flickered. Soon he would have to extinguish it so it would not be visible in the night.

“A man named Creed asked me to give you a message,” Roam said to Raven. “I spoke with him a few days ago, in the mountains. He said it’s too dangerous for him to come for you and wanted me to tell you of a place where you can hide. By the time I found you, you were hallucinating and couldn’t understand me.” He shifted his gaze to Blade. “Her hallucinations have been acting like a beacon. Combine that with how she…defends herself, and she’s attracted a lot of attention from other half demons.” His expression grew boyishly awkward, and he evaded Blade’s eyes. “A lot.”

Blade, too, was aware that her natural defenses had been working overtime the past few days, particularly when the Godseekers had passed so close to them. He had worried they would sense her and be drawn to investigate. Now he had the additional concern that spawn would be drawn to her, too.

She turned in his direction, her gaze sharp and bright, as if she could read his apprehension. Perhaps she could. He did not yet know the extent of her abilities. He had an even greater fear, however, and he didn’t want to alarm her with it, but once word spread that spawn did exist and irrefutable proof was presented, the Godseeker assassins would become involved. Despite her faith in Creed, her friend would have no choice but to hunt for spawn too, and he already knew about Raven. It would not matter to the Godseekers if some of the half demons were peaceful. They would all be exterminated. Blade could see the sense in such an approach, and it was the one he would have taken.

But he was neither a Godseeker nor one of their assassins, and Raven remained his sole concern.

“You’re supposed to tell me where I’m to wait for Creed,” she said to Roam.

That was not the exact message Creed sent her, but Blade did not miss the way hope and longing lit her beautiful, golden face as she spoke and so he did not correct her interpretation. An unwanted thought occurred to him. Maybe she and her friend had not been lovers, but that didn’t mean they never would be. He knew she could defend herself from unwelcome attention—she had done so her entire life—but what if not all the male attention she received remained unwelcome? Particularly from a man who was willing to accept her for what she was?

Desire for Raven, along with the memories of how she had felt naked beneath his palms, of him inside her, filled his thoughts. He did not like the idea of another man touching her so intimately—or that she might respond to him as willingly. He was not yet ready to give her up and leave her in someone else’s care. The thought was not honorable, but he had done little enough in his life that was, so it hardly mattered.

Again, her head cocked abruptly toward him. This time he allowed his thoughts to creep into his eyes, passing a silent message from his gaze to hers. He watched as a slow blush crept from the collar of her shirt to stain her cheeks. If she could read his thoughts and emotions, she did not get to pick and choose what she liked. If she took some of them, she had to take them all.

Roam began to draw a map in the dirt with a stick. “Creed said that this abandoned village could be safe for more of us if we agree to lay low and not draw unwanted attention.” He looked up at Raven and grinned. “Apparently, it’s close enough to the Temple of Immortal Right that we’d be hiding right under the Godseekers’ noses. I plan to round up a few people who can travel like I do, undetected, and head there for the winter. Others who are slower can join us in the spring, after the snows melt.” The grin faded. “But you’ll have to get there on your own.”

He did not include Blade in his invitation. Raven did not agree or disagree to it, or answer his unspoken question about her ability to travel, but listened attentively as he gave her directions to go with the map sketched in the dirt by the fire.

Blade knew where the village was. He had grown up very near it. And the goddesses’ boundary would be on the far side of this mountain range. He had come here to see if he could pass through it, although it, too, was dangerously close to the Temple of Immortal Right. But Raven would have him to protect her. And there were other places along the way to leave her where she’d be safer than in a village a Godseeker assassin had chosen.

As Blade rotated the quail again, he noted the way the boy’s hungry eyes followed his movements. He drew one from the fire, tested it for doneness, then passed it to him. The boy accepted it with an awkward nod of thanks.

Blade removed the remaining quail from the fire and set them aside to cool. They would save the birds for the morning with the last of the bread Raven had taken from her stepfather’s house.

He watched Roam eat. “What kinds of abilities do the half demons you’ve seen have?”

“For the most part, they’re all different. I can sense others with demon blood, and I can travel long distances without being seen in a fraction of normal time. Some have two talents, others have three. I haven’t seen any more than that. A lot of talents are hybrids and unique to the individual. So far, no one seems to have inherited full demon strength.”

“How many have Raven’s ability to defend herself?” Blade asked.

“All of the females seem to, even the ones who don’t have any other talents,” Roam said around a mouthful of meat. “It’s a common demon trait. But to the extent she possesses, so far, I’ve seen none.” He swallowed, sending her a shy smile. “She’s unique.”

“How fortunate for me.” Raven’s dry tone indicated she thought the opposite.

Roam finished his meal and lingered a while longer before disappearing into the shadows, but Blade did not suggest that he spend the night. He knew that while Raven probably would have liked to, she would not offer Blade’s hospitality for him.

But the visit disturbed Blade and he wanted time to think. While Roam seemed harmless enough, if he could find them so easily, others could too. And they might not be as benign. Blade itched to be moving.

“Are you strong enough to walk?” he asked Raven once Roam was gone.

“Yes.”

He did not know if he should believe her, but he would watch her and stop if he thought she was becoming too tired. They had to leave this place.

“We may as well climb as far as we can while the moon is up,” he said. If they traveled at night and she did not sleep, the demons might not try to reach her. He began to scoop dirt onto the fire. “Roam had the right idea. Hiding under their noses is a good enough plan, at least for the winter.”

Stubbornness etched the line of her delicate, lifted chin. “I’m going to the temple first, as we planned. I’ll hear those directions from Creed and no one else.”

He finished with the fire, then wrapped the cooked quail in broadleaves and tucked them into one of the packs. They dismantled the shelter together and packed up the last of the campsite. He strapped on extra weapons because knives were not enough in the dark. As far as he could tell, she seemed recovered enough to walk for at least a few hours if they went slow.

He did not argue with her as they set out, even though she had overlooked two minor details of her plan.

Creed had not said for her to wait for him. And Blade had never agreed to take her to Creed.

Chapter Eight

Raven followed Blade through moonlit mountain terrain that grew steadily steeper as they progressed. Her eyesight was better than his, so she would occasionally point out an obstacle or hazard he hadn’t noticed. In return, he would grunt his thanks.

As they climbed, she worried about Roam. Judging by the wounds he bore, he had received an unduly harsh lesson regarding life and trusting others. And yet he had delivered Creed’s message to her without thought to his safety. Blade easily could have killed him.

She had her bow and quiver of arrows slung across her shoulder, but Blade would let her carry nothing else. While she had been unconscious, he had cut down clothes for her and crafted makeshift shoes from worn-out leather. They were far from beautiful, but comfortable and warm, and she was grateful to him and touched by his thoughtfulness.

She had not intended to continue to rely on him but had been unable to refuse. She blamed it on the prospect of seeing Creed again, so tantalizingly within her reach, but that was not the true reason.

They understood each other now. He knew she was half demon. She knew he hated and feared them, and would do what he had to in order to keep them from the mortal world.

And still, a quiet but insistent part of her could not bear the thought of being parted from him.

Perhaps when she reached Creed, this blossoming hunger she felt for Blade would diminish.

The path Blade was forging led them through a deep mountain gap. High walls of jagged rock encased them on either side.

As the bright sliver of moon passed behind a thick bank of cloud, plunging the world into smothering blackness, Raven’s flesh prickled. A faint whisper of sound—a stirring of the air—brought her up short.

Blade gripped her elbow and bent his head close to hers. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” She angled her head to the side, straining to hear if the faint whisper would repeat itself, but all was still. Unnaturally so. The demon inside her stirred, a clear indication of danger. Blade unsheathed the short sword he had strapped to his hip, the sound of metal slithering against leather alarmingly loud.

The tangy scent of something wild stung her nose. Something was definitely not right. She shrugged the bow from her shoulder and eased an arrow from its quiver, snagging the fletching between her fingers.

A pebble, dislodged from a rock shelf, clattered loudly down the cliff wall, and Raven glanced upward just as Blade slammed her aside with his shoulder. She heard him swear, then something sharp, like claws, dragged along rock. Thick, coarse fur brushed her arm.

Wolven.

More than one, judging by the rustling movements now clearly audible in the night.

As the moon reemerged from the clouds she saw Blade slash upward with his arm, slicing open the belly of an enormous, four-legged creature. The wolven hunched and snarled, but despite its wound, did not retreat as it continued to face him. Fangs as long as Blade’s hand jutted from the jaws of its muzzle.

Raven nocked the arrow and drew back her elbow, steadying the fletching against her cheek. The bolt she let loose embedded itself solidly in the wolven’s temple, and it dropped to the ground with a heavy, sodden thump.

The scent of fresh blood settled, thick and sharp, on Raven’s tongue, drenching the air flowing into her lungs. Her vision blurred as an intense, unexpected craving struck. The provocative smell sent all rational thought from Raven’s head except one.

Her demon was gaining strength.

She should be horrified. And a part of her was, but overriding any terror was the need to draw more blood.

Three more wolven crouched not far from Blade, their hungry, unwavering eyes fixated on him as he stood between them and Raven. Genetically modified by Old World scientists long ago to fight demons, they worked well together and hunted in packs. She clawed for another arrow as one of the wolven attacked, letting loose as it went for Blade’s throat. The remaining two separated, circling to either side of Blade, and Raven saw that they planned to attack him as a team.

Her demon went wild inside her at the threat to him. It was impossible for Raven to control it and concentrate on Blade at the same time. Faint glimmers of blue-green fire, drawn to her demon from its connection to the demon boundary, seeped through Raven’s pores to illuminate the narrow funnel of rock in which they stood. As she slid an arrow from the quiver, she sent out a silent and fervent prayer for help. She was unprepared for the response she received.

Summon me, her father commanded. I will come to your aid.

Her fingers froze on the fletching. Dismay slid like a finely honed knife between her ribs and into her lungs at the sound of his voice in her thoughts. She was half demon. Who else but a demon would answer her prayers?

And there would be a price for it. Demons did nothing for free.

The danger to Blade—and the agitation of her inner demon—would not let her dismiss her father as she knew she should. If he could save Blade, then she should summon him. But that would mean bringing him into the mortal world. Blade would not forgive her for that.

Indecision tore at her. The only thing she was sure of was that she could not stand here and watch him die.

Reaching through the connection to the boundary her demon had tapped, she called to her father. It was an invitation he did not hesitate to accept. She felt him reach out to her in return, his triumph palpable, to follow her back to the mortal world.

As she brought him through the connection, however, Raven pulled part of the demon boundary along with him so that within the mortal world, she created an overlap in a broad circle around her feet. Although she had done something similar as a child, only in the opposite direction, she discovered her imagination as an adult was not so vivid or unrestrained. This section of boundary was less stable and much smaller, barely large enough to encompass her, Blade, and the wolven.

But also her father, enormous in his demon form. Heady elation, as well as relief at her success, filled her. Here, in this small piece of demon boundary, he could not fully cross into the mortal world. Not as long as it held. If she released it, he would be drawn back with it.

But she had not yet gotten cooperation from him. Nor did she have complete control of her own demon. Fire continued to blaze from her skin as it fought her for the freedom to reach Blade. She could not hold the section of boundary for long.

“Help him!” Raven said to her father.

Her father grinned. “As you command.”

He caught one wolven by the neck as it sprang for Blade. The claws on his hand tightened, and Raven heard a pop as it crushed the wolven’s throat, then tossed its limp body aside.

When Blade registered the demon’s presence, he lunged for Raven, throwing himself on top of her and covering her with his body. He swore through clenched teeth at the heat from the flames. As soon as he touched her, however, the fire emanating from her skin receded.

The last wolven loped off, disappearing into the mortal night with its tail between its legs.

“Explain this to me,” Blade said to her, his voice grim and low in her ear. He clutched his sword, bloodied with gore from the wolven he’d killed, and held it ready to defend them against her father.

She could not yet speak. Intense emotions coursed unchecked through her body and mind, from both her and her demon, as well as the knowledge that there would be repercussions for summoning her father and commanding him in this manner.

The beat of Blade’s heart was steady and reassuring where he pressed against her back, and the ground cold and solid against her hands and her cheek. She pushed upward, but was still weakened from three days of hallucinations and he was too heavy for her to dislodge easily.

“Let me up,” she said. “I need to speak with him.”

Blade got slowly to his feet and extended a hand to help her rise. When he had time to think about this night, to understand what she had done, she wondered how he would feel about it all. About her.

The demon’s head turned. A subtle shift in the pressure of Blade’s hand on hers was the only sign that it affected him.

Her father shifted from demon to mortal form. Blade would surely see the resemblance between them. While she looked most like her mother, there were enough similarities between her and her father, most notably in their hair and eyes, to make the relationship obvious.

“You asked for my help, and I gave it to you,” her father said. “There’s a price to be paid.”

She had known there would be. Dread slithered through her. “What do you I owe you?”

His attention fixed, cold and predatory, on Blade, then shifted to their linked hands. “First, send the mortal away, or I’ll kill him.”

Blade’s expression grew harder. He shook off her hand so both of his would be free. “You can try, demon.”

She did not dare try to force Blade to leave. “He stays,” Raven said. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Her father looked at her. “I want Justice.”

At first, she was relieved. The price was not as high as she had expected. And then, after the first heady wave of euphoria passed, cold reality settled in and she knew it was impossible. For her to give her father someone she already hated would increase her obligation to him, not pay off any debt, because her demon warned that it was more than Justice he wanted. She did not dare trust him, even to pay him what he claimed he was owed.

And while she wanted Justice dead too, it would not be at the hands of any demon. She could not allow this other side of her nature to touch her mortal existence. She did not like the thought of what she would become if she did. When she killed him it had to be by mortal means. And at a price she could afford.

Blade watched her without comment. Not a single word of protest. He, too, wondered what her response would be, and how deep her hatred for Justice ran.

“I won’t give him to you,” she said.

Her father’s beautiful face twisted to reveal the ugliness it disguised. “You don’t get to set the price for my help.”

“I think I do,” she said slowly. “Demons and mortal men hate each other too much to ever work together. A son would never summon a demon father, but I’ve just proved that a daughter will. You need me. So I do get to name the price, and I will, but not yet.”

She sensed his fascination at her refusal and worked hard to fight back a shudder. At some point, she would not be able to refuse him. He was prepared to wait for that moment. This was a game she did not know all the rules to, and he enjoyed playing it with her.

“We’ll see who needs whom, little demon.” His eyes flickered to her amulet, then to Blade, before returning to her face. “Remember me in your prayers.”

He did not wait for her to release him, but withdrew on his own from this temporary, in-between boundary to return to the other.

Raven remained where she was, conscious of Blade and his simmering anger as he stood beside her, but needing a few moments in which to reclaim her own emotions. Demons pursued her, as did Justice. And soon the Godseeker assassins would as well. On top of that, she was now indebted to her demon father.

She couldn’t bear to be afraid of Blade too, on top of everything else.

She took a deep breath and turned to face him.

…

She had summoned a demon.

Blade had known a demon fathered her, but to be presented with irrefutable proof had come as a greater shock than he had expected. Worse, now she owed it a favor because of him.

He took a deep breath, trying to think reasonably. He was not angry with her for wanting to save him. It was his inability to stand between her and a demon—and the sensation of helplessness he’d experienced—that infuriated him with such intensity that it left him shaking.

For ten long years, he’d had no choice but to accept helplessness. He did not have to accept it now. He was not as inexperienced at fighting demons as he had been back then.

He only wished it were not her father.

By the time she turned to him, with the last of those faint, blue-green shimmers of fire flaring through her skin slowly fading, he had calmed himself.

“Do not, ever again, summon a demon to help me,” he said. “I won’t be indebted to one.” His hands still shook as he spoke. He had not calmed as much as he’d thought, after all.

Total darkness settled around them as the last of the demon fire vanished beneath her fresh-scrubbed skin. The scent of soap root still clung to her, despite the acrid smoke that hit his nostrils.

She rested her palm lightly against his chest, as if she was carefully examining his emotions. Warmth inundated him at her touch—but it was not caused by any remnants of demon flame.

Awareness of her as a woman struck him sharply.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she said. “I couldn’t stand back and let anything happen to you. I’d never be able to live with myself if I did.”

All remnants of the anger he had been nurturing filtered from his lungs. She did not know him. If she did, she would have known not to worry. He had cheated death too many times already. When it finally caught up with him, it would be no more than he deserved.

Covering her hand with his own, he clasped it against him so that she could not pull away. Their circumstances demanded he think beyond the visceral to the practical. He knew demons hated Godseekers—and men—as a whole. But this demon had asked for Justice by name.

Blade would not let her pay such a price. Not even Justice deserved to be turned over to demons. No mortal did.

“Why would the demon want you to give him your stepfather?” Blade asked.

“Because of my mother. He believes she belonged to him and that Justice destroyed her.”

Blade knew of the bond created between an immortal and the one that it claimed. His friend Hunter, the Demon Slayer, had been more than content to have Airie—his half demon, half goddess wife—claim him.

But Raven’s mother was now dead. Any bond between her and a demon would be broken, would it not?

Her cheek was against his chest now, and he lowered his chin to rest on her hair. A sudden hunger for her left his mind in utter chaos. He slid his other arm around her waist to hold her closer, sensing she needed comfort, and although unused to offering it, found it easier to do than he expected.

“I understand you meant well, but that’s a dangerous thing you did tonight, Raven. Don’t do it again. Stay away from demons,” he added.

“I try.”

She sounded tired and out of sorts, so he did not pursue it further. She was still recovering from the snakebite, and tonight’s battle must have taken a great deal out of her.

The nightlife resumed around them now that the danger had passed. Tiny, sharp-nailed feet could be heard burrowing between bits of broken rock, and above Blade’s head, a rippling of air preceded a winged predator circling the carcasses of the dead wolven.

Blade’s hunger for Raven grew stronger. He rubbed the knuckles of her clasped hand with the pad of his thumb. The desire flaring in him was not ignited by any protective instincts on her part, but the natural response of a man intent on making a beautiful woman his own.

She withdrew both her hand and her warmth, pulling away from him, and made a small noise of disgust as she cradled her elbows in a tight hug.

“I don’t want to stay here any longer,” she said. “It stinks of blood and wolven.”

Blade scooped up the packs. At least her disgust was not for him, although it should be. While it was too dark in the mountains now for safe travel, he agreed with her. They would find another place to spend the remainder of the night.

They skirted the bloodied carcasses and walked for several miles before he finally found a place to camp that seemed secure. The pale moon had reemerged from the clouds, casting thin white light onto the earth.

Blade made as soft a bed as he could manage with what he could find in the underbrush, shook out their blankets, then sat down to remove his boots.

Raven watched him. “Where will I sleep?” she asked.

He paused, one boot in his hand, to look up at her. Their relationship was an unusual one—and complicated beyond words—but one thing about it remained simple. She was a woman, and he was a man. His awareness of her in that regard had not diminished, and he knew she was equally aware of him. They had already relinquished any need for modesty between them.

“The same place you slept for the past few nights.” He tossed the first boot aside and reached for the other. “We’re both tired, and I’m taking no chances. I don’t see any reason to alter the arrangement.” He felt her reluctance to join him, palpable in the darkness, and the reason for it pained him. He took little pride in the memory of their lovemaking. She had deserved better, but it could not be undone.

His second boot followed the first. “Perhaps we should talk first,” he said. “About what happened between us.”

He did not need to explain. She understood what he meant. The tension between them grew thicker.

“I should apologize to you for that,” she said. Her frank tone did not disguise her discomfort.

He studied her as he sat at her feet. While he could not see her face clearly her stiff posture conveyed volumes, and instinct warned him to tread carefully. She was not the one who should be apologizing.

“Neither one of us was thinking clearly that night,” he said. “It was hardly the right time or place. Nothing more needs to be said. We should get some sleep,” he added gently. “What’s done is done.”

Still, she did not move.

“I’m not a whore,” she said.

He wished he could read her as easily as she read him. The ice on which he stood seemed to have become very brittle and thin somehow. “Traveling with a man doesn’t make a woman a whore.”

“Sleeping with him because she’s indebted to him does.”

He was surprised at how much those words stung. They made him think of Ruby, who’d once been his closest friend and occasional bedmate. She was a whore by profession, and even though he had never considered her one, not when she was with him, had Ruby felt indebted to him? Had he made her feel like a whore when they were together?

Was that why she had turned down his offer of marriage?

Whatever the reason, it was plain to him now that he had not made her feel as if he valued her. Pain froze the muscles in his chest, making it difficult for his lungs to expand and contract. Ruby had deserved better from him.

Raven deserved better from him now.

“You saved my life in the demon world and again tonight,” he said, choosing his words with great care. “Am I indebted to you for that? Does that make me your whore? Is that what you think?”

She was too taken aback by the unexpected twist in argument to reply.

Weary, he gentled his tone. “You either owe me nothing or I owe you in equal measure. Whichever it is, in the future I suggest we negotiate the terms in advance of lovemaking because right now I’m too tired to haggle over them with you.”

An owl settled into the sagging branches of a nearby juniper.

“You’re angry,” Raven said.

Blade stretched out on the rough bed and jerked the blankets over him. “Not with you.” He was angry about circumstances that he did not wish to explain.

She crawled in beside him. When she would have put distance between them Blade slung an arm over her shoulders, drawing her close so that her back was snug against his stomach. She was soft and warm, and if he had not known how tired she, too, must be, and that she had been ill, he might have given more thought to negotiating those terms now.

Gradually, the tension in her body seeped away.

“Blade?” she whispered, her voice drowsy.

He longed to kiss the side of her neck as he had done each night previous when she had been unaware of his presence. “Yes?”

She shifted beneath the weight of his arm so that she faced him. One of her knees slid between his thighs to steady herself, and he dragged in a breath at the intimacy of the action.

“Why have you been so kind to me?” she asked.

His attention was diverted more by her unintended provocativeness than her words. “I’m hardly kind.”

“You are. You say I don’t owe you anything. If not, why are you helping me?”

“I was the cause of the snakebite and hallucinations.”

“Before that.” She draped her arm over his waist. Her fingertips rested between the blades of his shoulders, her elbow on his hip. “You followed me from town. You said I would have been making a mistake by killing my stepfather, and you stopped me. Why did you do that?”

There were so many reasons. The simplest one was also the most complicated. “Because you wanted to live.”

“Most people do.”

She was not going to let it go. He stared, unseeing, into the black night. He did not often explain himself. “Once, a long time ago, strangers saved my life. I wasn’t used to kindness. I suppose I recognized that you weren’t used to it, either, and I didn’t believe there was any harm in helping you.”

“And now?”

“Now I do.”

“I see.”

He could tell by the pain he heard in her voice that his bluntness had hurt her. He had not meant for it to do so. Gripping her knee between his thighs so that she could not turn away from him, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “While I believe you don’t purposely intend to bring danger to others, through no fault of your own you have…abilities…that are beyond those of the people around you. I know very well what can happen when circumstances force a person to use whatever means are at their disposal in order to survive. I’d be the last one to blame you for it, and I’d also be the only one who wouldn’t.” He ran a thumb across her cheek and felt her slight quiver of response. “The night I first saw you, when Justice denounced you in front of the town, did anyone step forward to help you? Even knowing or suspecting what he had most likely done to you?” She remained very still, absorbing his words. “I watched you hesitate. You hadn’t wanted to free yourself. You hoped someone would save you,” he added. “Am I right?”

He had to bend his head forward to hear her whispered reply.

“Yes.”

“Yet you were forced to reveal yourself to them because no one came to your aid.”

“No,” Raven said. “I didn’t reveal any more of myself than I had to, and what I did that night could be rationalized by them. Perhaps the links in the cuffs were weak or not properly set. Fear might have given me extra strength. I was also used to working with metals. Perhaps I knew some special trick.” She paused. He felt the deep breath she drew in, then again as she exhaled against his skin. “What I didn’t want to reveal was that I wouldn’t have burned in that fire. That is what Justice knew and wanted everyone to see.”

Blade pondered the ramifications of that. The Godseeker wanted Raven alive. He also wanted to prove that spawn truly existed. But he could not have both by exposing her to the Godseekers, could he? They would never allow her to live.

There had to be more to this. Blade did not know what it might be and was at a loss as to how to extricate her from her current position.

She had enormous faith in her friend Creed’s ability to do so, however. She seemed to have no doubts at all that he would be willing to protect her. Roam’s message reinforced her conviction. Blade wished he could share in her confidence, but he had learned long ago that few people deserved such a high level of trust.

“Why were you there?” she asked him, interrupting his thoughts. “In Goldrush, that night?”

They were again approaching murky areas he had no wish to explore. “I needed supplies,” he hedged. “And a bath.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d spent several months crossing the desert, and I didn’t smell very good.”

She continued to press him. “I mean, why were you crossing the desert in the first place?”

“I had nothing better to do, so I thought I might look for the goddesses’ boundary and see if it can be crossed. I’ve always been curious about what’s on the other side, and if anything of the Old World remains.”

“That’s not the real reason you came here,” she said.

She was intuitive and knew too many things about him already. He discovered it did not bother him as much as it might if she were anyone else.

“What do you think the reason is?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

He knew she was frowning. By the subtle tightening of her body against his, he also knew she had just lied to him.

“I’ll let us both know if I find out, then,” he said. “Go to sleep.” He tucked the blanket more securely over them both.

If her father came for her again tonight, he would not find her alone.

Chapter Nine

Raven lay with her cheek pillowed on Blade’s arm, the rise and fall of his chest steady against her upper back. Despite his efforts to make her comfortable and her overwhelming fatigue, she could not find sleep. He had said she owed him nothing, and she believed he’d meant it, but the cost to him for helping her was too large to ignore.

She knew he searched for peace, and that was something a man like Blade would never find by helping a woman who was half demon.

Black mountain peaks cloaked in midnight leered over her. Every breath of beating wings or rustle of leaves and grass left her heart racing. She shifted, not wanting to wake Blade, but she had not yet overcome her fear of the dark and all that it harbored. In the demon world she had no choice but to repress it. Here, she slid her fingers into his hand, burying her face into the crook of the arm nestled beneath her. With his body wrapped protectively around hers, she permitted herself to acknowledge the true source of her fear.

The blackness of night was isolating. And she did not want to be alone in it for the rest of her life.

Blade’s hand tightened over hers. His other fingers touched the curve of her cheek, tucking a curl behind her ear. He did not sleep either, then.

He freed his arm, braced himself on one palm, and pushed up to examine her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She rolled to her back and gazed up at the harsh, shadowy outline of his face, and wondered what had led him to become an assassin. Despite his facade, the role did not suit him. He was a caregiver by nature, someone who looked after others. Not much wonder he had run from such a life. The real question was why had he come back here, especially if it was inner peace he sought?

“What was your childhood like?” she asked.

She felt him retract the memories that surfaced at her question, to bury them even deeper than before so she could not explore them. He was very good at hiding what he did not want her to know.

“It was difficult,” he said. “But no more so than yours.”

She suspected that was not true, although hers had been difficult enough.

The fingers that explored the curve of her cheek dipped to her neckline, then wandered along her collarbone. A sharp, delicious thrill shot through her midsection.

He was trying to distract her from her questions. That made their answers all the more significant. She wanted to know him, to understand him better. She had only the short time until they reached Creed to do so. “Do you remember your mother? Your father?”

His fingers stopped their casual exploration. He did not want to answer, but she knew he would.

“No,” he said. “I don’t remember them at all. I was raised by an uncle.”

“What was your uncle like?”

“He was a Godseeker. A favorite. A lot like your stepfather.”

“You hated him,” Raven said. She could feel it in him, which told her the extent of the emotion he carried.

“Very much,” he admitted. His hand had curled into a tight fist where it rested near the base of her throat. She doubted he knew he had clenched it. “I eventually grew too big for the beatings, and when I was fourteen, I killed him. Unfortunately, he was a successful mine owner. After his death, the mines failed, jobs were lost, and I was blamed. So I left.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact when he spoke that Raven decided it was the memory of those beatings she sensed he was having difficulty dealing with. His treatment by people who should have helped an abused child and the fact that he had murdered his uncle did not seem to trouble him as much. She understood.

“That was when the assassin trainers recruited you?” she asked.

“Not exactly. I trained on my own at first, taking work a Godseeker assassin wouldn’t touch.”

She drew her fingertips over the back of his fist. Fractured memories came through to her now, whispers of things of which he didn’t speak but chose to share with her now. Her heart ached for him. “You were a boy. Alone at fourteen.”

“I knew right from wrong. I wanted to live.”

“If you only wanted to live, why did you leave the security of the temple after the trainers recruited you? You could have had a good life with them.”

“I never formally left them,” he said. “I went off to fight demons and never returned.”

“That was brave of you.”

“No. It was arrogant and ungrateful of me.”

He turned his face to her in the darkness, and she knew whatever had happened to him during that period of time was the root of the fear he had found so difficult to suppress in the demon world. One name drifted to the surface of his thoughts.

Ruby.

Raven caught an image of a lovely, red-haired woman, somewhat older than Blade, and a little rough, perhaps, in demeanor. She doubted if the name and image came to her by accident. Blade had his thoughts and emotions under tight control.

This was meant as another distraction.

She decided to allow it. “Who is Ruby?”

“The woman who helped save my life.”

Raven did not know him well enough to be jealous, although she did feel a twinge of an unpleasant, similar emotion. She wondered if Ruby was still important to him. If so, it made what had happened between them in the demon world more awkward, not less, and she felt guilty for it. “Tell me about her.”

“There is little to tell. We were friends. In the end, friendship wasn’t enough for either one of us, and we saw no hope for anything more than that in what we felt for each other.”

So Blade had left Ruby behind and started across the desert toward his boyhood home in search of…

Peace, just as she had thought.

To Raven, that did not seem as if he had wanted only friendship from Ruby. The unpleasant sensation that was not jealousy spread. She did not want to know any more about this other woman. Not when Raven was the one lying in his arms.

“If she helped save your life, I assume the demon fighting did not go well,” she said.

“No,” he admitted. “It didn’t. As I said, I was arrogant.”

Until three months past, demons had enforced isolation upon the lands of the Godseekers, the place where goddesses had once deigned to walk. It had made the favorites, like Justice, overconfident and secure in their positions. They believed demons would not touch them, especially on goddess land. Many who tried to pass through demon territory had been proven wrong. While the goddess amulets they wore warned of a demon’s presence or approach, it did not give them protection.

Blade was too young to have been a favorite, though. To her his attempt to cross demon territory spoke more of desperation than arrogance, and he had suffered for it.

And Raven knew that while he did not blame her for being half demon, or even seem to hold it against her, he would never forget it. It tangled at the edge of his consciousness with the other memories she knew haunted him. He did not hide any of it from her or try to obstruct the fact that he wanted her in spite of it.

Heat shot through her belly and thighs, and all she could feel was his skin against hers. She wanted him, too.

His hand unclenched. Turning her cheek slightly, she pressed a kiss to his palm.

He froze, his other palm splayed above her breast, and she arched her back so that her shirt gaped open, exposing her skin to the faint moonlight.

He looked at her for a long time. Then, he gathered the edges of the fabric closed and rolled away from her.

She moved with him so that her upper body draped across his chest, her mouth hovering close to his.

“You don’t need to do this,” he said.

“Is it so difficult for you to believe I might want you?” she whispered.

She felt him assessing her words in the darkness. “Considering you just told me you aren’t a whore, then yes.”

“You told me I owe you nothing,” she said. “Therefore, this is something I give freely because it’s something I want, too.” She hesitated, suddenly uncertain, wondering if she had misread him. “Unless this is something you don’t?”

“I want it. I want you.” One hand cupped her chin, the other her hip.

Tendrils of excitement crept through her limbs in response to his touch. She lowered her head, taking his mouth with hers in a hesitant kiss. His fingers tightened, holding her to him as he deepened the exchange. He exerted slight pressure, parting her lips with his, and then his tongue found hers, stroking and caressing until she was shaking with need.

The first time she had been the aggressor. But only because he had permitted it, she now realized. Any tenderness she had sensed in him earlier was gone, replaced by a single-minded desire on his part to possess. Her inner demon stirred with anticipation.

Blade eased her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, its raw-cotton whiteness stark against the blanket of night. Gooseflesh pebbled her arms as the cool air brushed her naked skin, but Blade shifted beneath her, radiating such heat that she instantly warmed. As he trailed his lips from her jaw to the curve of her breast, she did not know what to do for him. Lust was hardly foreign to her, but acting on it was still new.

“Touch me,” he said, his breath chasing chills where his mouth had dampened one taut nipple.

She pressed her hands to his waist, slipping them beneath his clothes. His skin rippled over hard layers of muscle, and he murmured words of quiet encouragement that increased her boldness.

His palms browsed her ribs, his fingers unlacing the string at the waist of her trousers before peeling them from her hips. Eagerness quickened her breath, and she helped him remove his clothing. Soon they were tangled in bare flesh and earthy heat. The length of his arousal against her inner thigh ignited a blazing fire of anticipation in her abdomen.

The first time they had made love, she had sought to confirm to both him and herself that she was no different from any other woman, with the same need for the intimate touch of a man she desired. That it had nothing to do with her demon allure.

Now, she thought blindly of pleasure.

She arched her back when his fingers dipped in her slick heat to stroke her, enjoying his touch. When his mouth caressed the sensitive curve of her neck, she drew a sharp breath as her demon clawed at her in a desperate need to respond.

A niggle of fear nudged at her consciousness. She felt her body tense. She did not want her demon unleashed. Not right now.

Blade did not pull away from her or stop the soft caress of his fingers, although he misunderstood her hesitation. “It won’t hurt this time.” He kissed her with an arrogant assurance that made her smile against his mouth. “Touch me,” he said again. He guided her hand to his erection, thick and hard between them, and she curled her fingers around him. “Like this.” He helped her establish a rhythm, his eyes closing with pleasure.

The feel of him in her hand and the way he moved beneath her touch gave her a soothing sense of power. Having that measure of control took away much of her fear that her demon might somehow escape her.

She slid her hand lower, to the base of him, and cupped the tender rounds of flesh. The backs of her fingers brushed against twisted ridges of skin marring the surface of his upper leg, and she frowned. Thick ropes of scar tissue extended as far as her probing fingertips could reach.

“They’re very old,” he said, dismissing the scars, although she could feel an anxiety building in him over what her reaction to them would be. “They’re nothing.”

She did not need to know any details. A part of her already knew how he had gotten them. Instead, she kissed him, long and deep.

While he allowed her to set the pace, his own explorations of her body did not cease. He shifted her weight so that her knees rested on either side of him. One of his palms slid the length of her torso, coming to rest on the soft swell of her bottom as she rocked against him.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice came out low and strained. “Tell me what you’d like me to do.”

She stroked the heavy length of him as explosive heat built in the lower regions of her stomach and raced to her thighs. “I need you inside me.”

He positioned himself, helping her guide him, raising her hips slightly, then entering slowly. Raven sucked in a breath of sheer bliss when they joined.

He had told her the truth. This time there was only exquisitely mounting ripples of pleasure that she could not contain. Throaty, guttural cries drifted in the night and dimly, Raven realized they came from them both.

She sprawled across him after, with her limbs threaded through his, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She had not expected this connection, this possessiveness on her part, or the sudden, languid melting of her bones.

He ran his fingers in a lazy pattern up and down her spine as if his thoughts were far away. She did not trespass on them.

She had begun to drift off to sleep when he broke the silence that had settled between them.

“Your eyes glow,” he said quietly. “When your emotions are…intense. They shine like blue diamonds.”

The observation was unexpected, and she did not know what else she could say.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s a unique quality. And very…appealing.” He sounded as if he found it amazing.

It was odd, she thought, that his hatred of demons did not seem to extend to her, even though he never quite forgot what she was.

She did not forget it, either. “You got the scars on your leg from fighting a demon,” she said. “Am I right?”

His fingers ceased their languorous movements. “There was very little fighting involved,” Blade replied. “I challenged it, and as a reward for arrogance, it tried to eat me alive. If a friend hadn’t come to my rescue, I would have died.”

Some of her pleasure died as the reality of his past sank in. Blade might find Raven’s glowing eyes appealing right now, but in the long run they would serve as a reminder to him of people and events he would rather forget. There would be no peace for him while they were together. Turning to Creed for protection would be a kindness to him.

The mood had broken. She nestled beside him, not bothering to dress because he did not, and went to sleep with a silent hope that she would not dream.

She said no prayers, however. Now that she knew who received them, she would never do so again.

…

They had crossed through yet another narrow mountain pass when Blade suddenly stopped. He could see nothing out of the ordinary. The sun shone brightly in a brilliant blue, cloudless sky. Birds sang from the trees. The air was crisp and clear. Yet something didn’t feel right.

That was the problem. He had grown up in these mountains and once knew them well. There should be smoke drifting from chimneys, and the sounds of people at work rising from the valleys.

Behind him, Raven’s hand instinctively went to her quiver and the shaft of an arrow.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There used to be a village in the valley beyond that ridge,” Blade replied, pointing.

Her fingers dropped from the arrow she’d partially drawn from its quiver. “It’s difficult to say from this distance. Perhaps there still is.”

“Perhaps.” He did not believe it, however. He tried to conceal his concern from her, but Raven was beginning to know him better. She read his emotions. As a consequence he hid things from her less. Or at least, he hid them less well.

“An entire village wouldn’t have emigrated, would it?” she asked. “When we settled in Goldrush, only a small portion of our old town followed Justice. Most of its first settlers came from neighboring villages through word of mouth, because of the new mines and opportunities.”

“I don’t think this village emigrated anywhere.”

Again, his uneasiness seemed to transmit to her, and a faint hint of worry entered her beautiful eyes.

“Do you want to see for yourself if something is wrong?” she asked him.

He did not like the thought of leaving her alone while he did, but he did not want her to see what he suspected he was going to find in the valley.

“Yes,” he said. “I want to see what we should be preparing ourselves for, if anything. You should wait for me here.”

Her worry deepened, the color of her crystalline eyes shifting to a deeper shade of blue. “I’m staying with you.”

He was hardly surprised by her response since he knew how much she did not like to be alone. He also knew she was neither helpless nor fearful. She had fought him when they first met. She’d battled demons. She had survived horrendous hallucinations that would have driven a hardened assassin insane. She was not shy about letting him know what she liked when he touched her and had not permitted him to dominate their lovemaking.

A stray puff of wind ruffled her red-streaked black curls, and he’d never seen anyone more lovely.

Abruptly, he wanted her again.

She turned and smiled at him as if reading his thoughts, sunshine and heat in her eyes, and his heart beat a little faster. Even when crippled, he had been a man women tended to avoid. The depth and intensity of his appetite for Raven, however, was unlikely to frighten a woman who faced demons, and this morning he felt like the luckiest man alive—a sensation he was not certain he trusted. Happiness was a foreign emotion to him, and he viewed it with suspicion.

That did not stop him from reaching for her. He cupped his hand at the nape of her neck and lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss both fierce and possessive—and one she returned with equal fervor.

Regretfully, he dared not linger. The coming night, when he could give her his full attention, was something to anticipate, but right now, whatever was waiting in that valley tugged at him with a gnawing and unrelenting urgency that he hoped Raven did not sense. Roam’s warnings of spawn attacking villages had not been forgotten.

He tried to stay calm until he knew more, and made a pretense of helping Raven navigate through the many rocks hidden by long, yellow-tipped grass. She was more than capable but he simply wanted to touch her as he guided her down the mountain slope beside him.

Shortly before noon, on the edge of a bluff above the valley, he bent to examine the ground. “Hross dung. Not fresh.”

He searched the area and found traces of more than one animal. Hross were uncommon in the mountains, adapted more for desert travel. These ones easily could have belonged to Justice and his party. It was possible Justice waited in the village in the belief Raven might be forced to stop there if she needed supplies, but Blade thought it unlikely.

As he and Raven crested the ridge, his suspicions were confirmed. Nothing moved in the village except for odd bits of debris that rattled through the cobbled streets, carried like tumbleweeds on the cold wind.

She reached for his hand with ice-cold fingers, then gave up her grip on him with only a slight hesitation. They would need their hands free for their weapons.

“Ready?” he asked her, and she nodded.

They cached their packs among some juniper and alders, then approached the outermost boundary of the village. Small homesteads with attached gardens already tidied for the coming winter were all that met them. As Blade and Raven passed, they saw that the houses and outbuildings were empty. Not even livestock remained. Somewhere, a door creaked on its hinges and a shutter banged.

A sour, rancid smell assaulted them as they entered the town and the wind shifted in their direction. Blade recognized it at once.

“This way,” he said, pointing toward the town center.

Despite the strong, telltale odor, Raven did not falter—not even when they rounded a corner and discovered its source.

Sick anger settled in Blade’s gut, along with that old, familiar sense of helplessness he disliked so much. He had lived in demon territory for a very long time and had seen the results of demon fire before.

Raven, however, had not. She had grown up in the Godseeker Mountains, raised as a mortal and protected from such demon atrocities. Her experience with them came only through the boundary, and that was limited. Comprehension had not yet dawned as she turned in a circle, trying to absorb the extent of the catastrophe.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Where is everyone? What happened here?”

Looking around, Blade’s best guess was that the villagers had been rounded up, herded into a former temple, and the temple set on fire. Only blackened rubble now remained, but the sheer amount of rubble and ash was telling. No smoke rose from the cold cinders, which by rights should have smoldered for many days. The morning, once sunny and holding great promise, was overshadowed now by ominous, snow-tipped mountain peaks and the restless spirits of the dead, bound forever by demon fire to the ruins of an abandoned temple to some forgotten goddess.

“Dead,” he replied in response to her question. “Demon fire happened to them.”

“That’s not possible. Demons can’t cross beyond the boundary into this world anymore. They’ve been banished.”

Raven was adamant, but Blade knew she didn’t believe her own words. She herself had brought a demon at least part way to this world. That was not all. He remembered the blue flames beneath her skin. He did not know the full extent of her demon abilities.

“You can command fire,” he said slowly, thinking out loud. “Could you have done something like this with it?”

Confusion and hurt clouded her eyes. “You think I’m capable of doing something like this?”

He did not want to, but he could not afford to assume otherwise. She had two sides to her heritage. Blade had seen her demon side, and while it was one she controlled very well, what might happen if, for some reason, she lost that control?

The questions were ugly, but necessity demanded he learn the answers to them. “I believe anyone, pushed beyond their limits, will use whatever means they possess to strike back. Even mortals. I’m living proof of it.” He stared into the ashes rather than her eyes. “Everyone has limits. We have no way of knowing what happened here. Perhaps whoever did this felt threatened.”

Or simply hatred.

Despite the passage of years, Blade could not deny that he’d retained no love for Godseekers, or for any of the people who had turned a blind eye to the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his uncle. How might spawn, with recently discovered demon abilities, react if they had led a life similar to his?

It was better for Raven if she acknowledged this potential instead of pretending it did not exist. At least they both would know what they were up against—unlike these poor people, who would have been caught unaware.

“What I’m asking you,” Blade continued, “is if you think spawn could have commanded demon fire to the level this would have required.”

Her tone cooled. “I only know what I can do, what I’m capable of. I can’t speak for others.”

“What can you do?” he persisted. “What do you believe you’re capable of?”

“Nothing like this.” She started to walk away from him, and the charred and blackened rubble.

He grabbed her arm. He would not let her ignore this. “These people died in a temple once dedicated to the goddesses, burned by what was undoubtedly demon fire. Do you not believe there’s any significance to it?”

She shook free of his hold on her. “How could I know that?” Her eyes began to glow with a faint but discernible bluish light. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He could not let any feelings he had for her interfere with finding out what had happened to these people, and keeping it from happening again. He pushed guilt aside. “You’ve sifted through my thoughts and emotions. My memories. It’s your turn to share. Show me what you can do with fire.”

She didn’t want to. She did not wish to acknowledge it. He could see it in her face. “You’ve already seen it.”

“I’ve seen you defend yourself,” he said. “I’ve seen you react to danger. I have no idea of your limitations or the extent of your control over your demon abilities. What happens if you lose it?” He gestured at the burned out temple. “Who else is in danger then?”

“Do you think I haven’t asked myself those questions?” The glow in her eyes intensified. “I can control myself.”

He did not know which of them she was trying to convince. “Prove it to me,” Blade said. “Show me what you can do.”

The diamond fire in her eyes sparked to flame. Her gleaming curls bobbed on a whisper of air as her entire demeanor changed. Hardened.

“I can tell people’s fears. I know you fear demons,” she said softly. “Are you afraid of me, too?”

Raven the mortal, he did not doubt. But the demon side of her was an unknown and seemingly separate entity, and she was not in as much control of it as she seemed to think. She was the one feeling fear now, and when Raven was afraid, her demon half surfaced.

How long could she fight it?

“No,” he said, allowing the truth behind his statement to surface for her to read more easily. “I don’t fear you.”

Her expression darkened. “Perhaps you should.”

From head to toe, she burst into blue flame. The sudden, intense heat drove him back a few steps, but she did not direct the fire outward.

Instead, he watched her struggle to contain it.

A mistake on her part, he saw almost immediately. She was burning from the inside out. If she did not release it, the fire would consume her.

She could die.

“Let it go!” he shouted at her. “Release it!”

He reached for her through the flames, his blood roaring in his ears and pounding hard in his temples. The sleeve of his leather coat heated and cracked as his scorched fingers snagged her arm.

The flames died away the instant he touched her. Then he had her in his arms. She shuddered, the spasms affecting him, too, as he cradled her against his aching chest and rocked her. The fire in her eyes was the last of it to fade, its bright embers lingering as he examined her for signs of injury.

“I hurt you,” she said, her breathing ragged and voice hoarse.

“No,” he assured her, ignoring the searing pain of the blisters rising on his burned hand. Not deliberately and not as much as he had hurt her. He kissed her cheek, still flushed from the fire, although her skin felt cool beneath his lips. A needle of ice pricked his spine as he understood what she had done. She had directed the fire inward in an effort to subdue her demon instincts, and without his intervention she would have died in the attempt.

And he had pushed her to it. He closed his eyes tight, imagining what could happen to Raven if she ever truly lost control.

“I’m not afraid of the demon in you,” he repeated, over and over. He held her tighter, the breath whooshing out of him as he realized that he would never be the same if he lost her. In the past, he had always stayed detached from other people’s lives—it was how he had survived all these years. But now that he had this woman, he could not extricate himself from her, no matter what her lineage. He could never harm her, or see harm come to her, because of him.

Her shaking gradually subsided. Blade released her, although he kept the blackened ruins from her line of vision. The rest of the town was devoid of life, its remote valley deserted. Whoever had done this terrible thing was long gone.

He thought of all the empty houses whose owners would never return. While Blade had gained greater insight into Raven—and at a cost—he had not learned much of real value with regard to spawn other than that they could, indeed, have caused this fire.

“We may as well fill our packs with the supplies we need before we leave,” he said. “These people won’t miss them.”

Chapter Ten

“Hold it like this.”

Raven listened carefully to Blade’s instructions, grasping the sword the way he showed her. The day was overcast, and her breath puffed in small clouds. With the taste and feel of snow in the air, she knew a storm was fast approaching.

It had been several days now since they had left the burned-out and decimated village behind them and eight since the night she had fled the fire in Goldrush. It felt like a lifetime had passed. Blade set a more difficult travel pace now that she was fully recovered from the goldthief bite, but this morning, when they rose from their blankets, he had looked at the heavy sky and called a break.

He was not letting the day go to waste, however.

She positioned her feet, adjusting her posture to account for the uneven ground and her small stature. Using both hands, she grasped the sword he had found for her in the village.

She had more bruises from his instruction than she wished to think about, but she enjoyed the fact he did not hold back as they sparred. It had been the same way with Creed. While neither man tried to injure her, they saw no benefit in teaching her to defend herself by sowing false confidence either.

Blade eyed her form critically. “You’re too small to try to stroke downward against me. How do you think you should compensate for that?”

She took aim at his knee, but he blocked her sword easily with a deft anticipation of the move.

“Very good. But don’t let me see what you intend to do. And go for the hamstrings, like this.” He demonstrated with fluid movements far more graceful than hers. “You want to incapacitate your opponent as quickly as possible. Once he’s down, you have to kill him. Don’t overthink it. Don’t hesitate. A wounded adversary is a desperate one.”

Despite the chill in the air, a trickle of sweat rolled from Raven’s hairline and down the nape of her neck. Blade had worked her hard all morning.

Brooding eyes met hers. As always, a thrill of excitement slithered through her when he looked at her with so much concentrated intensity. Although he continued to hold her against him in the night, he had not touched her intimately since before they came across the village. Emotionally he had distanced himself, and the knowledge left her bereft. He had said he was not afraid of the demon in her. While he might not fear it, it was plain that he did not welcome or accept it either.

She allowed the tip of her sword to greet the ground and wrapped her fingers around its pommel. “I won’t hesitate,” she said.

“Killing a man isn’t the same as killing a demon,” he said.

She shrugged. “A threat is a threat.”

“There are varying degrees. What if the threat comes from a man who believes he’s defending himself and his property? What if it’s based on ignorance, not malice?”

“All I have to do is believe the threat is real. Regret will have to come later.”

“You should put some thought into dealing with the regret when it does come,” Blade advised. “Because it will.” He took her sword from her, sheathing both it and his.

Raven gazed across the craggy spread of mountains and valleys, to the distant desert far beyond. He was right in some ways, but wrong in others. Killing demons and killing men were the same things to her.

The first flakes of snow brushed her cheek as she continued to take in the landscape. With the approaching storm she was grateful Blade had insisted they take what they needed from the village. The thick clothing and sturdy, well-fitting boots were welcome and would become even more so in the next few days when the snow piled up. She had not been able to resist taking a few more feminine pieces, too. Her mother had raised her to appreciate beauty and fine craftsmanship, even in fashion, and the artisan in her could no more be denied than the demon.

Despite having lived in the desert for the past ten years, Blade seemed to remember the layout of the broad mountain range very well. They had been moving farther and higher into it, crossing no other towns, and Raven could only assume he avoided them on purpose.

Blade looked at the heavy sky. “Take the corner of the tarpaulin. We’re going to need better shelter than we had last night.”

She grasped the heavy canvas and helped fasten it more securely around a deep shelf of rock, creating a roomy, artificial cave. Once that was accomplished, they moved their belongings inside.

“When will we reach the assassins’ temple?” she asked as Blade stacked the supply of deadwood they had gathered against one outer wall of their shelter.

They stood on the leeward side of the rising wind, but although they were protected from the worst of it, already it howled around the mountain so that they had to raise their voices to be heard.

He took his time answering her. “Does it matter?”

“Winter’s coming. The sooner I find Creed the better,” Raven said.

Blade dropped the last armful of wood on the pile. “Have you given any thought as to what helping you will mean for him?”

The cold bit through her clothing. Had she really not thought about the impact on Creed if he took on her problems? Raven passed a hand over her face. Her friend had never feared anything or anyone, but their world in Goldrush under Justice’s rule had been a very small one. She no longer knew what challenges he faced. She felt as if a great trap were about to be sprung, and she could find no way to avoid it.

Blade’s eyes remained thoughtful on her. “Justice may have already discovered that he has greater troubles than you. He’ll have to head out of the mountains soon or be trapped here. We could find that village Roam spoke of—you could stay there, at least for the winter. By spring, Justice will have forgotten about you, or no longer care.”

She had known Blade did not plan to stay with her forever—she would always be spawn and he would never forget that—but even so, the disappointment hit her hard. Because if Blade, who feared so little, could not look past her demon blood, how could she expect it of anyone else?

Despite her disappointment, his suggestion was tempting. Many of the passes would be inaccessible during the winter months, and she could have that period as a respite from running.

She pushed the temptation away. Justice did not like to lose. He would want her captured or dead before winter set in completely, and she could not bring that trouble on Roam and the others. They already faced the same obstacles she did. They did not need this one thrust on them.

“I’d be bringing Justice to their door, and that,” she said, “I’d really regret.”

Blade drew another canvas tarpaulin over the pile of deadwood to protect it from the weather. He rubbed his hands together, then tucked them under his arms for warmth. His cheeks had reddened from the cold, and the snow fell faster in soft, thick flakes that quickly coated his dark hair and lashes. The sky was now completely obscured, with no visibility at all beyond their small encampment.

He did not contradict her as she had secretly hoped he might. Nor did he suggest he stay the winter, too, and offer his added protection to both her and the others. Of course he would not.

“I’d like to speak with your friend Creed,” Blade said, his brow creasing as if he were deep in thought. “If the assassin trainers were to ally with Roam and the others, they could use them to hunt whoever or whatever destroyed that village.”

She could not quite hide her surprise at his suggestion, but the more she thought about it, the more enthusiastic she became. She had already considered joining the assassins. He offered her one more reason for why it might work.

“Creed’s very persuasive. He could convince the trainers to teach us to fight,” she said.

Although Blade’s expression did not reveal his reaction she could sense his displeasure, and was unsure of the cause. This had been his suggestion, not hers.

“That’s not what I meant. They won’t train spawn to fight. Roam can track the spawn and lead the assassins to them. That’s what would be most useful to the Godseekers—and you don’t have that ability. You’d be nothing to them.” He dusted the gathering snow from his arms, then reached for his crossbow. “Get inside the shelter. I’m going to take one last look around to make certain we won’t have any unwelcome visitors before this storm blows over.”

He disappeared into a wall of white.

Raven stared after him for several long moments. Their physical safety was more important right now than a pointless argument, although no matter what he said, she would propose training to Creed. She, too, had abilities the assassins could use. The conversation was not over, at least not from her perspective, but if the heavy sky was any indication, there would be plenty of time to finish it later.

Parting the flaps, she ducked inside the shelter and began to assemble a small fire to warm Blade when he returned.

…

Blade did not dare venture too far from their shelter for fear of losing his way in the storm. It would be far too easy to walk off a cliff.

He had not anticipated Raven would wish to train with assassins and felt stupid for the oversight. Of course, she would want that. But she had no concept of what it would mean for her. She might have demon in her, but she was not a cold-blooded killer and he would not have her become one.

He still did not like the idea of taking her to Creed. It meant exposing her to assassins and Godseekers, and therefore, certain danger. Whether she agreed with him or not, she would be better off with Roam and others like her. They offered her a type of protection she had not fully considered and one he could not provide. Besides, half demons could not hide from the world forever. Sooner or later, regardless of whether or not she was with them, they would face exposure.

Crooking an elbow over his face, he rounded a bluff and was buffeted by the rising wind. The flakes of gentle snow had turned to stinging sleet, hitting his body like splinters of glass.

The snow stopped and the sky lightened briefly as he pushed forward, the sun a dull white orb in the bleak sky. The break would be no more than a temporary lull. He did a quick search for fresh tracks in the slippery white skiff already coating the ground, worried wolven might be on the hunt before the weather worsened. When he found no signs of them, he circled back toward shelter.

A few hundred feet from their camp, he spotted smoke curling into the air and quickened his pace. Raven likely thought the snow was falling thick enough that a fire would not be noticed. While the assumption was reasonable, experience warned him to be more cautious.

He did not take the most direct route, which would give him away if anyone was watching. Instead, he worked his way slowly through sparse brush and around the remnants of an old rockslide. As the wind shifted, the snow again began to fall, and with more determination this time.

Blade only saw the dark form hiding in a shallow rock cleft because he knew where to look. The man’s attention remained intent on the shelter where Raven waited. Had his focus wavered, he would have spotted Blade, too.

If the man were simply being cautious, he would not be observing from hiding for so long. Neither would an ordinary hunter be out in this weather. The storm’s approach had been obvious since very early that morning.

Blade thought about confronting him. He could be harmless, but he could also be spawn. Or he could be an assassin, sent by her stepfather. Blade was not taking chances. He would kill him and throw his body over the cliff’s edge so that Raven need never know of it. There was enough death in her life already—he did not want her to become hardened to it.

Carefully easing the crossbow from his back, Blade brought the weapon up and sighted his target. As his finger tightened on the trigger, one foot slipped on an icy rock. The bolt he released sailed wide of its mark.

His target did not run away, however. Instead, he came at Blade with a pistol in one hand.

But that did not mean the weapon was loaded. Ammunition was expensive. He could be bluffing.

Then Blade felt the soft brush of air as the bullet flew past his face to shatter into fragments against the cliff. Several sharp pieces grazed his cheek and embedded into the thick shoulder padding of his wool-lined coat.

If the man had bullets, he had to be an assassin. Here in the mountains, this close to their temple, he could be nothing else. Blade wondered again if Raven’s stepfather had sent him after her, and if so, what they could be walking into by searching for Creed.

The crack of gunfire had not been completely swallowed by the storm, but still, Blade nurtured a faint hope that Raven had not heard it. But his hope died as the pale golden shadow of her face appeared at the flap in the tarpaulin, and she emerged, her bow in her hands, an arrow nocked.

The assassin had seen Blade look to the shelter and swung his pistol in her direction. Blade saw the shock on his face shift to lust in reaction to her defenses.

Blue fire flared in Raven’s eyes as she loosed her arrow. With a sodden thud, it buried its head high on the right side of the assassin’s chest, near his shoulder.

That injury would slow down but not incapacitate a trained killer. Fear for her made Blade less wary, and he dove from his hiding place and charged the assassin, who remained disciplined enough to shift targets and take another shot at him. This time, the bullet struck Blade high on his left arm, spinning him in a half circle and knocking him partially off balance.

Adrenaline numbed the injury, but he knew from past experience that if it was serious, he would suffer for it later. The threat of coming pain did not trouble him. The possibility of harm to Raven wiped all other matters from his head.

He let momentum carry him to the ground, then rolled to a crouch. As he did, he used the hand of his injured arm to seize one of his knives from his clothing, releasing it in a smooth, well-practiced motion. He followed it with a knife thrown from the other hand.

Both found their marks. One struck the assassin’s pistol hand, the other, his throat. The assassin dropped his weapon, the fingers on that hand useless now, and clawed at the knife impeding his breath. Gurgling noises bubbled from around the knife’s hilt, along with pale red foam, as his lungs filled with fluid. Blade would have liked to question him, but it was too late for that, and he doubted he would have received answers in any event.

He should finish this quickly. The assassin was dying, and he had no desire to make him suffer.

Raven tossed her weapon aside and hurried toward Blade. She did not look at the dying man on the ground.

“Go back inside,” he said, not wanting her to see the ending to this.

She wavered, her gleaming gaze fixated on his upper arm, which had begun to sting and throb. Warmth seeped down his sleeve, and he knew he was bleeding, but it didn’t feel too severe.

Her eyes, blue-diamond bright and revealing the depth of her worry, shifted to his face.

“You’re injured,” she said.

“It’s nothing.” He met her gaze. “Please,” he added. “Leave this to me.”

He could read her expression. She wanted to plead for the man’s life, but thankfully she did not. He didn’t want to have to refuse her. Her lips trembled, but no further sound emerged from them.

Instead, she fled.

He grabbed the knife handle protruding from the assassin’s throat and jerked its edge from one side of his neck to the other. Blood gushed over Blade’s hand, steaming at first, then rapidly cooling and coagulating. He dragged the body to the edge of the cliff and pushed it over. The assassin’s remains tumbled into a swirling maelstrom of white and disappeared.

Blade cleaned his hands, scrubbing them thoroughly with wet snow and taking his time with the process. He checked his arm and found both an entrance and exit wound, but no hidden pieces of shrapnel. The bleeding had stopped, the flesh appeared clean, and he could move the arm without difficulty.

He was procrastinating because he had no idea what to say to Raven about what had just happened. She had been in danger and he had dealt with the threat, but there was more to it than that. He did not want her to learn to kill with the same ease he did, or develop a lack of regard for mortal life, which was what would happen if her friend Creed somehow did persuade the trainers to accept her. They would strip away her conscience and empathy and all that made her unique, for their own purposes.

But he did not really believe she would become like him if she received an assassin’s training. Without a conscience or empathy for others to temper the demon in her, it was entirely possible she could become something more terrible.

And if she could not relinquish her conscience, as she had been unable to do in the burned-out village when he had pushed the limits of her demon, an assassin’s training might very well destroy her. Either way, she could not win.

That, in turn, raised a disquieting question for him. If an assassin’s training destroyed her, what might being with him do to her?

Troubled, he returned to the shelter.

…

The shelter was quite roomy inside, with the small but adequate fire Raven had built giving off both heat and light. A crack in the rock ceiling above it created a natural chimney.

She sat by the fire and waited for Blade.

He pushed aside the flaps on the tarpaulin and entered the shelter on a flurry of wet snow. He tied the flaps behind him, shutting out the storm. There wasn’t enough clearance for him to stand upright, forcing him to stoop awkwardly as he removed his damp outer clothing, which he hung to dry. He was left wearing trousers of heavy denim tucked inside tall leather boots, and a high-collared shirt of tightly woven raw linen, now unbuttoned to mid-chest. The clothing would not be enough of a barrier against the numbing cold, and Raven scrabbled through one of their packs for a wool blanket.

As she looked back at him, she noticed the sleeve of his shirt was soaked in blood. The scent of it hit her nostrils, leaving her light-headed.

When he saw what she was staring at, he mistook her fascination for concern. “It’s nothing,” he said as he unbuttoned the shirt the rest of the way and slipped it off his shoulders. He wadded it into a ball and tossed it aside. After he cleaned and packed the wound with scraps of cotton lint, she helped him wrap it.

He hunched his large frame around to face her in the confined space. He took the fresh shirt and blanket she handed him.

“I hadn’t intended for you to be part of that,” he said.

She blamed the sudden chill pebbling her flesh on the rising wind that seeped beneath the tarpaulin’s skirts. He thought she found killing difficult, when the opposite was true.

She had no trouble with it when it was necessary. It was her demon’s reaction to it that she found so repugnant. It enjoyed blood. It craved it. But she couldn’t speak the words.

Kindling in the fire splintered to pieces, the glowing embers settling into the pit with a sigh. Blade took a seat with his back to the fire so that he faced her, both of them now cross-legged on the cold ground. He slid his arms into the sleeves of his shirt but did not fasten it, drawing the blanket over his shoulders instead.

“How long have you known you were half demon?” he asked.

Surprisingly, his quiet question held no judgment or recrimination. She’d been wrong. He was well aware she had no trouble with killing.

She considered her answer carefully. She could not remember a time when she had not known that a demon lived inside her, a part of her but also separate, possessing an existence and a will of its own. It waited for her weak moments and preyed on them. Outside, when she had hesitated, her demon had seen a threat to Blade and surged to the surface to protect him when she could not do so.

“I’ve always known,” she said.

“You must remember some specific moment, or event, when it manifested,” Blade persisted. “Otherwise, it would forever remain a suspicion to you, not a fact.”

“No. Nothing.”

He sat very still, his eyes locked on her face. She passed a hand over her forehead, sweeping away her sticky curls. He could easily outwait her. He had a great deal more patience, and there was nowhere for her to go. The storm could last for several days.

“All right,” she said. Her fingers had begun to tremble, and she linked them together in her lap. “I was maybe five years old. My mother was working on a particular piece of jewelry that required soldering enamel to silver, so she had a fire burning in her shop.” Raven remembered the sweltering heat of the day in vivid detail, but she’d always enjoyed watching her mother create beautiful things and would rather stay with her than join the other children outside. “I was playing on the floor in front of it. I stood up to grab my ball after it rolled away, and I caught my foot in the hem of my dress. I fell into the fire.” She could still remember her mother’s screams of terror and then the conflict of relief and dawning horror in her eyes when she discovered that Raven was unharmed, even though her clothing was ruined.

You’re a demon, her mother had whispered.

For years, Raven had burned with the guilt and shame of that moment. It was not until Justice entered their lives that she understood that her mother must have known all along who had fathered her but was unwilling to acknowledge it.

“Ordinary fire doesn’t harm you,” Blade said thoughtfully, “but demon fire can.”

That was an understatement. She had almost consumed herself with it.

“The demon fire is new to me. It seems to be brought on by strong emotions, and that makes it hard to control.” And when her emotions ran high, her demon emerged, compounding the problem.

Reaching for her across the short distance between them, Blade took her hand and drew her against him, the top of her head settling beneath his chin, her cheek in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her so that the blanket at his shoulders covered them both, his heart rate strong and reassuring beneath one of her palms. He slid a hand under the thick, waxed-cotton jacket she wore over her lighter, feminine underclothing and stroked her spine with warm fingers.

“I didn’t want you to be a part of what happened outside because I didn’t want you to see how easy it is to be cold-blooded about killing,” he said. “It has nothing to do with whether or not you’re half demon. You control that part of your nature far better than you believe. It makes you stronger, not weaker.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, his breath ruffling the soft curls of her hair. “You aren’t a killer, Raven. I’d prefer you to stay this way. You aren’t a demon, either. You’re so much more than either of those things. So much better. Working with assassins isn’t the right future for you, and if I thought it a real possibility, I’d fight anyone, including your friend Creed, to keep it from happening.”

While his faith in her warmed her, the struggle to keep her demon under control would never end for her. She could not dismiss or deny it the way he thought she could. At any time, the balance could tip. Sooner or later he’d come to hate her. She already felt the distance he had placed between them since they left the village.

He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. His lean face, shadowed with a day’s growth of beard, was as unsmiling as ever, but its edges had softened.

“I’m going to find your friend Creed and reassure myself that you’ll be safe if I leave you with him. Then I’m walking away.” His low voice made her shiver. “It has nothing to do with demons and everything as to what I can and can’t offer you. If working with assassins isn’t the right future for you, being with me would be far worse. You deserve better.”

Need coiled through her. Her demon disagreed. This was the man it wanted. And this was one battle with her demon she saw no reason to fight.

She slipped one knee to the ground and swung the other to straddle his thighs, taking his roughened cheeks between her palms to kiss his mouth. He tasted of fresh air and smoke from the fire.

“You have no idea what I deserve,” Raven said. “You have even less of an idea about what your own value is. Walk away once we find Creed if you want—I won’t stop you. But until that time comes, don’t push me away.”

She shed her coat.

He did nothing at first, and then, slowly, his hands went to her hips. The scratch of his unshaven jaw scraped like sandpaper along the tender flesh of her throat as he trailed hot kisses to her ear.

Fumbling with the buttons of her blouse, Blade untucked it from the waist of her trousers. She drew a quivering breath as his rough fingertips grazed the smooth flesh of her abdomen. The demon inside her surged again, this time seeking pleasure, and she saw no reason to deny that, either.

She could not stop him from walking away from her, and in fact, agreed it was best. But for him, not her. They both had their demons to fight, and while she knew hers, she did not believe he knew his.

Chapter Eleven

Justice and his companions rode through the open gates and into the courtyard of the Temple of Immortal Right ahead of the storm. Although they had not been challenged at the valley’s entrance, Justice knew their movements were being monitored.

The temple was not one single structure but a complex of rooms burrowed warren-like into the steep basin walls of one of the mountain’s many craggy valleys. Its courtyard ran the length of the valley floor, with a cordoned-off training yard occupying center stage. Inside it, assassin trainers, bared to the waist without regard for the bitter cold, bludgeoned the novices.

Justice slid from his hross, slapped dried, crusted mud from his chaps, and stretched the cramps from his injured leg. Having seen the training before, he had little interest in watching it now. They were rarely well matched. Cage and Might, however, nudged their hross closer to the sweating and bloodied fighters.

Justice passed his reins to one of the assassin attendants.

“Where’s Siege?” he asked.

The pimple-faced young man gestured over his shoulder toward the row of entrances leading to the temple’s inner maze of chambers, his attention occupied by the shying hross displaying its dislike of unfamiliar hands on its reins. “The library.”

Justice passed the lecture hall and refectory before reaching the entry to a long, low room. Shelves lined the stone walls, filled to capacity with well-worn books, and the room held the unmistakable smell of dry, ancient paper. A trim, elderly man sat, straight-backed and frowning in concentration, his white-haired head bent over a desk strewn with reams of bound volumes. A soft, eternal light radiated from the low ceiling, a gift to the temple’s servants from the goddesses.

Siege was a Godseeker as well as an assassin, but it was the name he had earned when still a young man that won him undying respect. He had once fended off three demons that had been hunting him in one of the retired mines, unworkable since before the time of the immortals. He had escaped through an old, caved-in shaft and made his way back from the desert to the protection of the goddesses’ mountains.

He had also been carrying his weight in pure gold.

Now that demons were gone, Justice intended to bring some of those lucrative old mining claims back into production.

The old man looked up when Justice’s shadow filled the doorway.

“Justice,” Siege said. His voice held no surprise, and no welcome either.

Justice bowed a greeting out of deference to the man’s age and status. While he might be old—and rumor had it his heart was no longer strong—his years had not softened him. Siege remained one of the best instructors and a passionate defender of the goddesses.

Justice hated him. He suspected the feeling was mutual.

“This is a poor time of year for travel in the mountains,” Siege added. “What brings you here?”

“Goddess business.”

Siege set down the pen he’d been holding. “Have a seat.”

Justice removed a stack of books from a spindle-back chair and nudged it closer to Siege’s desk with his knee before he sat down.

Siege began to spin the pen beneath his fingertips, around and around on the desk’s polished surface until Justice itched to take it from him.

“What might that business be?” Siege asked.

“Have you heard the reports of spawn in mortal form? Have you seen what’s been happening in the mountains?” Justice asked.

The old man’s expressionless face hid his thoughts. “I’ve heard. So far, I’ve seen no firsthand proof.”

“I have.” Justice told Siege of the destroyed village he and his companions had passed on the trail.

Siege’s creased face did not betray him. “How can you know spawn were responsible?”

The question was valid. The mountains had been under the protection of the goddesses since their first coming, longer than any living mortal could remember. To acknowledge that half demons could enter here meant the goddesses held no power over them anymore. To any Godseeker, it was an ugly possibility. Spawn, unlike their immortal fathers, were born to this world. What if that meant they had no restrictions within it?

If they did not, that made them more dangerous to mortals than full-blooded demons.

Female spawn would be an even greater problem. No one knew how the immortals came into being, and Siege might view them as half goddess, not half demon, based on their gender.

Justice himself believed there was no true difference between the immortals—he despised them all equally.

He answered Siege’s question with care. “I’ve witnessed house fires, barn fires, and fires in the mines where people and animals burned to death. A goddess temple was burned to the ground with everyone in it, leaving nothing but smoke and ash behind. It would take demon fire to cause that type of destruction.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve also seen the devastation a spawn can cause when it gets too close to mortal men. I’m afraid my stepdaughter may be one of them. She uses seduction to entice and enslave them, just as a demon would. She tried it on me, a Godseeker.” He tapped his amulet and looked at the one Siege wore. “This is all that saved me. If I were a weaker man, not even an amulet invoked by an immortal could have done so.”

“That’s your stepdaughter’s sole demon ability?” Siege asked. “Seduction?” He smiled as if greatly amused. “Take it from an old man. That ability proves nothing other than that she’s a woman.”

Good. Justice did not want Siege too suspicious of her just yet, only willing to have an assassin bring her to him.

“I was once favored by a goddess,” Justice said. “I would hope that an ordinary woman could hold no such power over me. This one’s mother slept with a demon. I heard that from her mother’s own lips. And after my stepdaughter escaped lawful custody, I followed her into the mountains. While I don’t wish to believe it, it’s possible she brought the demon fire against those villagers. She could have enslaved the men, then used her control over them to round the villagers up and lock them in the temple before burning it. She’s even touched one of your recruits,” he added. “Creed. It’s possible she can make him do her bidding, too.” He could not resist a bitter jibe aimed at the goddesses’ faithful, one of which he would forever remain whether he wished to or not. “Once a slave, always a slave.”

The smile on the old man’s face vanished. “Creed is hardly weak-minded.”

Justice fought to keep his own opinions on that concealed. It seemed Raven’s friend was already earning a reputation for himself, even amongst the seasoned assassins. It had always been this way with Creed. He inspired the trust of others in him.

“Then let him prove he’s not owned by her, or that she doesn’t have the ability to own him,” Justice said. “Have him track her down and return her to me. Of everyone here, he would stand the best chance of capturing her—she trusts him.”

Suspicion glittered in the old man’s eyes. “If she’s spawn, why do you want her?”

“As her stepfather, I own her and am responsible for her. I also believe that the stories about spawn are true. It’s the duty of the Godseekers and their assassins to ensure the safety of the mortal world from demons in the goddesses’ absence,” he said. “I want to discover the extent of the capabilities she’s kept so carefully hidden.”

Siege stared at his blue-veined hands, which had begun an intricate manipulation of his pen back and forth between his nimble fingers while he deliberated over Justice’s arguments.

“What do you believe the assassins should do?” he finally asked. “Once I have more proof,” he added. “I would need to see for myself that she’s truly half demon.”

“Of course.” Justice felt his excitement mount. “I think the Godseekers and assassins need to provide a service to the rest of the world in the name of the goddesses. We can use my stepdaughter to examine what a spawn’s weaknesses might be. Then, we begin to hunt them. But we start with her.”

Siege reached for a bell. At once, a servant appeared. “Send for Creed,” he said to him.

The servant bowed and left.

It had been many months since the last time Justice saw the young man. When Creed entered the room a short while later, Justice might not have recognized him if he had not been expecting him.

Wearing soft-soled, brushed-leather boots that extended to the knee over tight denim trousers and a thick shirt of coarse wool, Creed had hardened in both appearance and manner. The black hair he’d always kept short was gone, his head clean-shaven and smooth. He’d also filled out. Once lean in appearance, he now had the bulky shoulder and thigh muscles associated with long days of weapons training and hand-to-hand combat. He made Justice aware of his own thickening waistline and advancing years, and Justice clenched his jaw at the unflattering comparison.

Creed had grown more dangerous, too. A threat prowled beneath the surface of those implacable eyes, and it was apparent that his fondness for Justice had not improved with time and distance.

But Justice did not care what the younger man thought. As an assassin, Creed was now forced to do the bidding of a Godseeker, and Justice intended to pit him against Raven.

“You’re looking well,” Justice said to him.

Creed gave the small bow of respect required by assassin tradition and the enforcing presence of Siege, but he did not respond directly. He turned to the elderly assassin instead. “You wanted to see me?”

“Justice claims we have a spawn loose in the mountains. He’s requesting you hunt for her.”

Justice saw the man’s faint start, then a flicker of wariness enter Creed’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Raven has exposed herself as a spawn,” Justice said. He enjoyed having unsettled her longtime defender. “But she managed to escape. I tracked her into the mountains.”

“How did she expose herself?” Creed asked. “How did it become apparent she’s spawn, after so many years?”

“She tried to entice me.”

Creed started toward him, one tight fist held low at his side. “You lying bastard.”

“Creed!” Siege’s voice lashed out with enough force to drag him to a halt.

Justice did not show his relief at the old man’s intervention, but he knew—Creed’s eyes told him—that the younger assassin would have killed him if he had not been checked. It was also noteworthy to him that the old man did not make Creed apologize for the insult and threat.

“You’ll find her,” the old man said to Creed. “When you do, you’ll bring her here for judgment. Other Godseekers will be summoned so that any decision regarding her is final.” His gaze shot to Justice. “And fair.”

This was not at all what Justice wanted. It took the control from his hands. His chin went up. “She’s my daughter. Her fate should be determined by me.”

Siege dismissed his protest. “You claim she was spawned by a demon. Therefore, she’s the responsibility of all the Godseekers, not one.” Siege addressed Creed again, whose anger had not diminished but at least seemed to be better regulated. “Find her. I want her alive. But if that’s not possible, given what it’s claimed she is, then her body will do.”

If Justice had not known Creed for so many years, he might never have noticed the sudden rigidity in the young man’s demeanor. His mouth compressed, and he did not meet Siege’s eyes, instead staring at a point just past the assassin leader’s shoulder.

Obviously this was not the decision he wanted, either.

“Weather permitting,” Creed said, “I’ll set out in search of her tomorrow.”

Siege dismissed him.

Justice watched him go, doubting very much if Creed would obey Siege’s command. At least, not to the letter.

It made him worth watching.

…

Inside the sweltering smithy, Creed dipped the cherry-red blade of the knife he was forging into brine. He had a talent for the finer blacksmithing work thanks to Columbine’s teachings.

Sweat trailed down his back to collect at the laces of the sturdy leather apron he wore. This was a delicate task that required intense concentration, and it helped keep his mind off matters he could do nothing about. The storm meant he could not set out at once to find Raven, as he wished—he had to wait it out. He maintained his normal calm, friendly demeanor as he went about his training and daily chores. Inside, however, he chafed at the delay. Worse, he worried for Raven’s physical safety. Was she out there, unprotected, in this weather? Had Justice touched her? Was that why she ran?

Creed’s mistake was that he had never dreamed that Justice, a man who had once been the favorite of a goddess, would see her as anything other than his daughter. Now he knew that he should never have left her. The recruiters had come for him, yes, but he could have persuaded them to leave without him.

But no one denied the recruiters. Not even he could have kept such a story from spreading if he’d succeeded, and it would have revealed more about him than he cared for anyone to discover.

And now Raven was alone in the mountains, searching for him in a storm that showed no signs of relenting. Already, the drifts were waist deep in places. When it was safe to leave the temple, if he found her, he had to somehow get her to safety. That would create further problems for him. If he did not return with her—and soon—Justice would have Siege send someone else to comb the mountains for her.

And there would be other half demons to worry over before too long. Creed had told Roam of the mining village not far from the temple that had houses fit to live in for the winter, but it was no longer such a good idea to have them so close.

He had led them into danger, not away from it.

“Creed?” He looked up from his task. An attendant stood in the door of the smithy. “Siege wants to speak with you.”

Creed set aside his work and went to find the elderly assassin in the library.

Siege looked up from his desk when Creed entered. “Tell me you have no idea where this woman might be hiding.”

“None,” Creed said, thankful to be able to speak with truth. He had followed the possible paths she might take in his head and there were too many. He was also certain she did not know how to get here—not unless new talents had emerged over the past months.

“Good.” Siege steepled his fingers and tapped his chin. “I’ve learned in the past not to give in to Justice’s demands without first understanding why he makes them. Can you enlighten me as to any other reasons why he might want this girl?”

Creed had the highest respect for Siege and his fairness. He also had a great fear for Raven, because she was indeed what Justice claimed her to be.

He walked a fine line at the moment.

“Justice hated her mother, and Raven looks very much like her,” Creed said. He could not hold back a faint smile. “Although Raven has a great deal more spirit, as her circumstances should indicate.”

“What happened to the mother?”

“Justice says she died in her sleep. Raven claims he beat her and she died of internal bleeding.”

“Becoming a favorite was a mixed blessing for men such as Justice.” Siege passed a hand over his eyes and sighed as if weary. “It gave them standing with other men. With the goddesses, however, they were always servants. Male whores, some people called them, and men like Justice still take out their resentment of that on mortal women.” All at once Siege looked very old to Creed. “Unless the girl’s a doctor, she has no way of proving her allegations against him. Even if she could, Justice didn’t break any laws.”

“No.”

But Creed had loved Columbine, and he loved Raven, too. He could do nothing for her mother, but he would help Raven. The laws Siege spoke of were in need of change. They had been created by men who took out their bitterness on anyone weaker than themselves.

Siege was frowning as he stared at Creed. “I’d like you to wait at least a day after the storm ends before setting out. Find some tasks in the temple that need completing. I’d like to see how impatient Justice is to find her. If he complains about the delay, I’ll remind him that once an assassin is given a task, how he completes it is up to him.”

Creed did not want to wait any longer than necessary. He, too, was anxious to find Raven—which led him to wonder if, perhaps, it was his own patience that was being tested.

He assured Siege he had several important matters to attend to before he could leave the temple. Then he excused himself and returned to the smithy.

Raven was tough and resourceful.

He decided to wait two days, not one, before setting out.

…

It was two full days before the storm ended.

Several times, Blade had been forced outside to ensure they were not buried alive, or that their makeshift chimney did not plug with packed snow and suffocate them in their sleep.

Two days trapped inside together had been no hardship for him. Long periods of silence did not trouble Raven, and she knew a number of small games to play in which to pass the time. Between them, they had mended and cleaned the clothing and equipment they carried. He told her of the saloon he once owned in Freetown and of the world beyond the mountains she had never seen. In return, she told him of the jewelry she crafted. He had most likely seen pieces of it in the Freetown market and paid no attention, but he would look for it in the future. She had a particular identifying mark she made in her pieces. She smiled often and easily, and he enjoyed holding her against him as he watched over her while she slept. He would miss her when the time came for them to part.

It would come too soon.

The morning of the third day dawned bright and crisp and sharp. Jagged mountain peaks, steeped in white, thrust upward through a bed of intense blue sky. Peering from the drawn-back flaps of the shelter, Raven’s eyes widened. The tip of her nose reddened in the sere cold.

“Beautiful,” she breathed.

Blade had viewed the pristine drifts piled around them as nothing other than an impediment to travel but found that her perspective, and wonder, helped him see unexpected pleasure in the world. He inhaled fresh air and let his breath out slowly.

The Temple of Immortal Right, if he remembered correctly, was a half-day’s walk from here. The fallen snow would lengthen that time. But while the snow might slow his progress, the aggressive winds would help wipe away his footprints.

He had already decided that Raven would not accompany him any farther. There was too great a chance that Justice anticipated her arrival at the temple, knowing she would go looking for Creed. And while getting into the temple alone would not be a problem for Blade, exiting it alive was of significant concern. The best solution was to leave Raven here where she was warm and secure and bring Creed to her. She had not dreamed of the demon boundary in days and would be alone for one night only.

He did not want her with him for another reason. If he was not satisfied that Creed could dissuade her from training, then he would not relinquish her to him. He had meant it when he said he would do whatever it took to protect her.

He did not yet know what he might have to do.

Raven was not pleased when she was unable to change his decision to leave her behind. The pleading in her eyes almost swayed him, but he was coming to know her too well. She was not afraid for herself. She worried for him, and it was unnecessary. But that didn’t mean he was not warmed by her concern. He simply had no intention of allowing it to stop him.

He fastened his coat, rolling the collar high at the back of his neck to ward off the wind, and checked his weapons.

“If you have reason to believe that Creed might not welcome me, tell me now,” he said.

“He’ll do everything he can to help me.”

She sounded so confident that Blade was perhaps a little jealous of her faith in her friend, but he buried his reaction as unimportant compared to what needed to be achieved.

“Tell me what he looks like,” he said.

She rubbed her nose with one knitted glove, making its tip even redder. “Big. As tall as you, but broader. He has hair the color of mine, and he wears it short to hide the curl. There’s a thin, straight scar beside his left ear that runs to his jaw, but you have to look for it. It’s hardly noticeable.” She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with fun. “He’s also very handsome.”

Her own short, black, shining ringlets poked out from under her hood to frame her face, glistening like newborn lamb’s wool in the blinding sun. Blade stroked a finger down her cheek, tucking back some of the wayward curls. If he allowed Creed to assume responsibility for her safety, this could very well be the last time he got to touch her.

He did not kiss her, although he wanted to. “Can you give me a message for him? Something that only the two of you could know?”

Raven looked thoughtful. “Tell him the knife he gave me served a good purpose.”

He did not need to question the message’s meaning. Her stepfather limped for a reason.

“It will be late morning or early afternoon tomorrow before I return,” he warned her. “Keep my crossbow handy at all times. If you hear any noise, anything at all before then, don’t waste time on finding out what it is. Shoot it.”

She nodded.

While he disliked encouraging her to kill, the thought of what might happen to her if she did not was far worse. He remembered the way the assassin had looked at her. At some point, Blade feared that her demon self-defenses would fail her when she needed them most. He did not like to think of her fate if they did.

He dipped his head so their eyes were at the same level. “I mean it, Raven. There’s nothing, and no one, up here that will be friendly. If you hesitate to shoot to kill again, you could be the one who ends up dead.”

“I won’t,” she promised. Then she reached toward her neck and removed her amulet, untangling it from her curls. Standing on her toes, she slipped it over Blade’s head and tucked it inside his clothing. She seized the front of his coat in both hands and lifted herself enough to press her mouth against his.

The amulet still retained heat from her skin, its warmth radiating through his chest as flashes of her thoughts flared into his mind. They were jumbled, intense and complex, but one was foremost.

She wanted him safe.

“Be careful,” she said. Her exhale of breath brushed soft against his cheek. “And if you come back before sunup, you’d better be singing.” She spoke lightly, as if in jest.

“You think I can’t sing?” he asked.

Her face lit with the brightness of her smile. “I think I’d need proof.”

“Singing it is, then.” Blade adjusted his collar against the cold. He did not want to leave her any more than she wanted to be left behind, but it could not be helped.

He felt her eyes track each of his steps as he trudged through the drifts and away from their camp.

Chapter Twelve

Blade was careful to step where the wind had scrubbed the ground almost bare so as to leave fewer footprints behind. Some snow-packed passages, however, protected by surrounding cliffs, could not be avoided.

Shortly after dusk, he breached the white-capped rise above the temple’s valley. To the casual observer, the settlement below gave the impression of quiet serenity, like any number of other Godseeker temples of worship but on a larger scale. Blade, however, knew better.

The last time he’d stood here he had been a young man intent on making his own way in the world and under his own rules. He had been overconfident and very arrogant. His time in the desert—and a demon attack—had cured him of that. He suspected most novices, once they received a few months of intensive training, still developed that same attitude. He was counting on that to help him break into the facility undetected. Whoever was on patrol would not be expecting such a bold move.

Blade scoured the landscape until he saw what he needed—a set of footprints. He charted their path with his eyes and saw they approached a rocky outcrop that would conceal his own tracks from above.

He circled around and stashed his pack beneath the outcropping, then leaped lightly onto the trail. He dragged his feet to make it look as if the guard had altered his course to where Blade had stood, then he carefully backtracked, placing his feet in the footprints and following them around the circumference of the valley. He hoped it was dark enough now and the guards complacent because of the recent storm, for his ruse to pass undetected until morning.

He intended to be long gone before then.

Night had fallen by the time he reached the inner courtyard. Several people moved about and while he entertained a few curious looks, he walked with purpose and no one questioned him. It was not unusual for people to come and go at strange hours in the temple, and as quietly as possible.

Entering the recruits’ living quarters, however, posed a greater complication. Anyone who saw his face in the light would know at once that he did not belong there and challenge his presence. He reconsidered his plan. It was as important to be patient as it was to be bold.

Next to the living quarters was the dining hall, as he remembered. It would be empty until the dark hours before dawn when the servants began to prepare the morning meal. Blade slipped inside.

The room brightened at once. Eternal lighting flowed from the ceiling, as it did throughout the entire goddess-sanctified temple. Blade searched his memory for the ritual words to dim it, and seconds later, the room settled into semi-darkness. He watched from behind the partly closed door as people moved about in the corridor, preparing for the night. Blade settled in to wait them out.

Several hours later, a man with a small scar on his face approached the living quarters. He wore denim trousers and was naked from the waist up, with a drying cloth slung over a broad shoulder as if he’d just come from a bath. He had a shaven head, not the close-cropped curls Raven spoke of, and a tattoo of a flaming phoenix that rose from the waist of his trousers to spread across his broad shoulders. He had Blade’s height, but Raven had downplayed that he was more massive in frame.

Tattoos could be added, hair shaved, and muscle built. But there was something familiar about the way he moved that made Blade look closer. The man’s unusual blue eyes were so like Raven’s in both shape and color that it could not be coincidence. She had not mentioned that either and he wondered why not, because to him, those eyes explained a lot. He had speculated about the closeness of their relationship but not considered this possibility.

“Creed?” He spoke the name softly, keeping one hand on the hilt of a weapon in case he had chosen the wrong man. “Raven says the knife you gave her served a good purpose.”

The man stiffened but gave no other outward indication that he had heard Blade. He did not approach the dining hall. Instead he stopped where he was and checked over his shoulder in the direction he’d come from, giving anyone watching the impression he was waiting for someone to catch up with him.

When he finally answered Blade, he, too, kept his voice low. “Who are you?”

Blade pushed the door open a crack more, conscious of the faint lighting in the dining hall behind him where there should be none. It exposed him more than he wished. “I’m her friend. She needs your help.”

Creed cast another look over his shoulder. “Wait for me here.”

He vanished into the living quarters. Another hour passed before he reappeared. When he did he was fully dressed and, Blade suspected, armed.

As he came through the door of the dining hall, he slammed Blade up against the wall and pressed a forearm to his throat. Blade remained relaxed and unthreatening, with his hands open and held away from his weapons. Years of being dismissed as a cripple had long ago cured him of taking offense at another man’s aggression toward him. He had nothing to prove.

“How do you know Raven?” Creed demanded. He eased the pressure on Blade’s throat enough for him to answer.

“I saved her life,” Blade said. That was true enough.

“Tell me how. And where she is.”

“Her stepfather had planned to burn her at the stake as a demon, and I helped her escape. I left her at a camp, a half-day’s walk from here.”

The coldness in the other man’s eyes did not necessarily alarm Blade, but it did cause the pressure exerted on his neck to increase to a point well beyond discomfort. He cleared his throat against the abuse it was receiving.

“She would have come to me herself. She would never stay behind,” Creed said.

Raven’s talk of Creed had not fully prepared Blade for him. She had spoken as if he was of an age with her, but in fact he was several years older, which meant he had gone into training very late. And Blade, too, had already been an accomplished killer, with a survivor’s mentality, when he joined the temple.

Speaking past the forearm crushing his windpipe was almost impossible now. His response came out distorted. “She would if she trusted me enough to believe me that this isn’t a place she should be.”

Long seconds passed. Blade worried he might black out and wondered if he should do something about it. Then the forearm was withdrawn, and he dragged in a few deep breaths.

Creed stepped back but kept his hands close to his weapons. “What’s your name, and why would she trust you to speak for her rather than come straight to me?”

“Can you protect her?” Blade asked.

“Your name,” Creed demanded again.

“Blade. I was an assassin once, too.”

“I already guessed that much. No one else would dare intrude here. Other than Raven.” His lips jerked, although in exasperation or humor, Blade could not be certain. Creed’s gaze raked over him. “Why should she trust an assassin?”

“Are you speaking of me or you?” Blade asked. “I delivered her message. If you know her at all, you know she gave it to me willingly.”

“Is she safe?” Creed asked. “Unharmed?”

“She’s safe. For the moment. But her stepfather’s hunting her.”

Creed swiped a hand down his face. “I know. Justice is already here. I’m to begin searching for her in the morning.”

Blade considered killing him to prevent it. The thought of Raven, and how much Creed meant to her, stopped him.

“Relax, assassin,” Creed said. His voice held amusement. “I have no intention of telling Justice where she is. Far from it.”

A desire to trust him tugged at Blade, and immediately made him suspicious. That, and those familiar eyes, coalesced into significance. The assassin was half demon.

“You’re Raven’s brother,” Blade said.

Shock flickered across Creed’s face, followed by caution. “Half brother. How did you know that?”

Because Creed looked very much like their shared demon father—even more so than to Raven did—but Blade did not tell him that. He did not want to reveal Raven’s ability to travel in the demon boundary and contact her father. It had to be her choice to tell Creed of it. Besides, Blade suspected he might not take it well. “It was a guess on my part.”

Creed’s expression tightened. “I’m usually very good at deflecting people’s interest in me.”

“And at instilling trust. Which was your mistake with me,” Blade said. “I couldn’t imagine why I should trust you, even though Raven does. Completely.” He hoped it was well founded. “Your ability to do both, and that you come from the same area, tells me you share a father with her. But she doesn’t know who you are, does she?”

“No one does. Not anymore.” Creed had recovered from his surprise. “Her mother knew. She saw our father in me. Her opinion of him was far more favorable than my own mother’s was, and she was always kind to me because of it.”

It was obvious to Blade that Creed’s affection for both Raven and her mother was genuine. “Your demon talents are a variation of Raven’s,” he said. “She reads people’s intentions. You control them.”

Creed grinned. “People do tend to trust me. As long as I don’t do anything to raise their suspicions, that is. It seems I went too far with you.”

He gave off such an impression of good nature and great sincerity that it was difficult to reconcile him with the formidable assassin who had pinned Blade to the wall. Blade gave him full credit. He was, indeed, charismatic.

“Does Justice trust you?” Blade asked.

The easy grin faded. “Only to a point. It would be more accurate to say that he underestimates me. He knows my relationship with Raven is close. He chooses to think it’s because she can lure men, and therefore me, and I don’t want him to examine it any deeper. That’s why I can’t refuse to search for her.” Anger frosted his eyes again. “Justice attributes his own motives to others—because he wants her, he assumes all men do.”

“What were you planning to do with her once you found her?” Blade asked.

“I suppose I would have abandoned my own plans in order to care for her. Now I don’t have to worry. She has you.”

Creed was wrong. She was not safe with Blade. Not the way she should be. Creed knew what she was and would not let any harm come to her. Of that, Blade was convinced. “She wants you, not me.”

“Do you know anything of the spawn who have invaded the mountains? What they’ve done here? That there are more than Raven and me in the world, and not all of them are harmless?” Creed rubbed his eyes with a thumb and a forefinger. “The Godseekers will want to establish laws for all spawn. They’ll want to hunt them. Someone needs to protect the ones who are innocent. Who’s in a better position to do so than me—a man who’s trusted by almost everyone?”

It spoke well of him that he saw the need for justice to be applied equally and for all. For Blade, however, Raven’s safety remained paramount, and her future was not settled. He cared little for the well-being of others while she was in danger. “So you won’t help her?”

“Not while you can,” Creed said. “Get her out of the mountains. She can’t stay here with Justice searching for her. She’ll endanger others. I’ll hunt for her, just as I’ve been ordered. But I’ll start in Goldrush, and I’ll follow several false leads. The spawn terrorizing villages are my priority now that I know Raven will be safe.”

Footsteps sounded outside the closed dining hall door. Both men went silent. The steps slowed, then faded away.

“You’d better go. I’ll see you past the gates,” Creed said.

He escorted Blade out through the lesser-used side posterns. Few people were about at this time of night, and it helped that the ones they did meet expressed no interest in their movements. If questioned later, Blade doubted they would even remember having seen him. Creed did, indeed, have a worthwhile talent.

Blade could only wish Raven’s was the same as his. She attracted, rather than deflected, far too much attention.

The night was bitterly cold, but the full moon shone very bright across the sparkling snow. Stars glittered in a deep, cobalt sky that stretched for miles. Blade swung his arms in an attempt to generate heat, anxious to be moving.

“What message should I give her from you?” he asked.

“None,” Creed said. His expression closed. “Just wish her well for me.”

Blade’s movements stilled, the cold forgotten. “Don’t let her believe you’ve abandoned her.”

“If I give her any encouragement at all, she’ll never leave these mountains.” Creed turned away, then paused and looked back at Blade. The moon cast a long shadow behind him. “If anything happens to her, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

For a few long, thoughtful moments, Blade watched Raven’s brother walk the narrow path back to the temple. Creed meant every word he had said, but Blade did not fear him or his threats. He only worried how this rejection would affect Raven, and in what direction it would drive her.

He chose to consider her physical safety first. If Creed were to begin his search in Goldrush, as he claimed he would, Justice might follow. Taking Raven down the mountain, then, would become a race against time.

The amulet Raven had looped around Blade’s neck spread warmth throughout his chest even as the cold bit into his heavy coat. The wind had died, leaving the night silent and bright. Leaving the mountains did not necessarily mean going back toward the desert, although he could make it seem that way.

But the goddess boundary lay in the opposite direction, on the far side of the mountain range. Blade had come here to search for it. Perhaps they both could cross through it. Raven had killed demons. That might buy her passage. It was not as if she had many options left, and it was a move that no one would consider.

Blade did not know what more he might do if it turned out that the goddess boundary could not be crossed. It was also possible that nothing of the Old World existed on the other side of it anymore. But they would never know if they did not try.

And he liked the thought of seeing the sea for the first time with Raven at his side.

…

From the shadowed enclave of the entrance to the temple’s guest quarters, Justice watched and waited for Creed’s return. He stamped his feet for warmth and blew on his numbed fingers, careful not to make too much noise. If he had not been so certain of the connection between Raven and Creed he might not have bothered to wait so long, but it had proved worth his while.

Seeing Blade inside the walls had come as a surprise. Justice had suspected he was helping Raven, but that he would dare enter the temple was unexpected.

The man had steady nerves—and a complete lack of fear.

That, or he was completely bewitched.

Whichever it was, Raven must be hiding somewhere nearby. Justice wondered if Creed would lead him to her, but thought it was more likely that he would lead him in the opposite direction. He knew Creed better than the arrogant young assassin suspected.

It was not long before Creed returned, unaccompanied. Justice watched him cross the courtyard. Not a single guard paid him any mind. Justice waited for Creed to enter his living quarters before stepping from the enclave of the guest quarters and into the moonlit courtyard.

Justice crossed to the guards’ post. Immediately, they straightened at his approach.

“Good evening,” he said. They nodded with deference, recognizing him as the Godseeker who had arrived earlier in the day. “Who was that man who just entered through the side posterns?”

The guards looked at him, then each other, their growing uneasiness apparent. One spoke. “No one has entered or left the temple on our watch.”

“My mistake.”

Justice returned to his quarters, feeling the guards’ eyes track him until he was inside and the door was closed. They thought he had been testing them and worried that they had failed.

They had, although they weren’t to blame.

As he rolled into the bedding of his sagging cot, he deliberated as to what he intended to do about it.

…

The sun had not yet colored the horizon when the sound Raven had been waiting for had her hurtling from the shelter—and without the weapon she had promised Blade she’d keep at hand. She had no need for it because she heard singing.

“O, give me a home by the sea,” sang a deep and lusty voice. He was not yet within sight, but it was Blade’s voice, beyond a doubt. And he could, indeed, sing.

She smiled, impressed by the unexpected beauty of it. What kind of man might he have been if his life had begun differently?

Anticipation fluttered in her abdomen, both at the thought of seeing Creed for the first time in months and because she had been so worried about Blade that she had not slept. As Blade rounded the bluff through the swirl of fine snow her chest swelled and sank. He was alone.

The singing stopped when Blade saw her. He dusted the layer of snow from his hooded head with thick-gloved fingers. Raven stood on her toes, peering past him, hoping for Creed to appear at any moment. Sickening disappointment filled her when he did not.

Where was he? What if something had happened to him?

No. She did not believe that. Creed was invincible. But neither could she imagine that Blade had not found him.

“Where’s your weapon?” Blade growled.

She ignored his disapproval. “What happened?” she asked, anxiously scanning his face. She could feel that something was wrong, and that he did not want to tell her about it. “Wasn’t Creed there? Couldn’t you get inside the temple to speak with him?”

“I got inside, and I spoke with him.”

Raven relaxed. The sick feeling eased. Something had delayed him was all. “When is he coming?”

“He’s not.”

She waited for Blade to explain, but he said nothing more, only watched her with unusual compassion. Reality slowly settled in, and the world reeled around her.

Creed was not coming for her.

It took her a few seconds to comprehend that the roar in her ears was not caused by the wind.

“We’re leaving the mountains,” she heard Blade say past the pulsing beat in her head. “Justice was at the temple. He’s engaged an assassin to hunt you. You were right. Not even winter will stop him, and he’ll have men with him who know these mountains better than I do. This isn’t a safe place for us.”

Her heart clenched in a tight, frozen knot. She had not realized just how much she had counted on Creed. Now, she had nothing. Blade had made it very clear that while he did not mind her company, she could not stay with him forever. He wanted his freedom returned to him. And he worried that, at some point, he would fail her.

He could not fail her more than Creed had.

Blade continued to speak but Raven barely listened. She caught something about “wishes you well,” “others like you,” and “needing protection.”

She did not want to hear how others needed Creed more or how unimportant she had become to him. She could not imagine anyone needing him more than she did right now.

“I have everything packed but the bedding and shelter,” she interrupted him. “You must have been awake since you left yesterday. Did you want to sleep for a few hours before we depart?”

She could see the concern in his eyes, but he did not press her to talk.

He turned to the shelter. “An hour,” he said. “No longer. I’d rather we were far away from here before night.”

…

While Blade slept, Raven stood numb and alone at the edge of the cliff and watched the sun begin its slow climb over the mountains. Reds mottled to purple, then to vibrant blue. The world, wild and free, dropped off for miles at her feet. True demons could fly. That was the one talent she wished she had inherited, because then, she would soar far from these mountains where no one would ever know of her.

But she could not, and if she were to survive, she would need to stand and fight. She would need to become the very thing she did not want to be. The thing Blade hated.

He was with her now only because he felt responsible for her situation, but how long would it be before he felt he had done his duty and she lost importance to him, as she had with Creed, who she had relied on since childhood?

The thought of Blade turning from her, too, left her breathless and faint. She did not want to die. Nor did she wish to be a burden.

The abyss beyond the cliff’s edge, inches from her booted toes, danced and swirled, and she closed her eyes against a sudden wave of unexpected dizziness.

Before she could retreat to safety, the rocky ledge began to tilt forward and give way. Her arms pinwheeled as she tried to maintain her balance. A sharp cry of fear escaped her.

And then the ground leveled off beneath her again.

When she opened her eyes, a familiar, blue-green light had chased away the last purple shadows of the retreating mortal night. She had time to do no more than register the solid ground under her feet before her father was calling to her.

“Little demon.”

He appeared on one of the nearby broken cliffs, a black shadow against the churning, lightning-streaked demon sky, before leaping lightly from precipice to precipice to stalk toward her in his mortal form. With his black hair, ageless face, and those striking pale eyes, he could pass for her brother rather than her father.

She waited, knowing better than to try and run from him. He stopped an arm’s length away, as close to the cliff’s edge as she.

“This is the second time I’ve helped you,” he said.

He had saved her from falling. It had only taken that one moment of stark fear for her life for him to be able to summon her. Raven went cold despite the heat of the boundary and the heavy clothing she wore. The snow that had been caked to her legs melted through her wool trousers as fire crackled beneath her skin.

“I never asked for your help,” she said.

“But you didn’t want to die. I know your wishes.” His smile held satisfaction. “You’re more demon than you admit. Between us, we could rule the mortal world. I can show you how,” he said. “Summon me.”

“No.” The price he’d set for her life was too high. Immortals had been banished from the mortal world, once and for all. Bringing them back was something she would never owe him.

His icy eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you believe you’re the only spawn who can summon a demon? Do you want another to be the first to unleash us?” He seized her arm, his fingers bruising her skin through the heavy padding of her coat, and shook her as if she were a child’s rag doll. “You might have protection from other demons, but not from me. Your life is mine and you’ll do as I say. I can kill you if I choose.”

Rather than frighten her more, deep down inside, the threat calmed her. She had something he wanted. It gave her power over him.

And power was strength.

“You saved me from death for your benefit, not mine. If you kill me now,” she said, “you’ll never get what you want. No, I think I’m safe enough from you.”

He backhanded her across the face with his free hand. The blow nearly blinded her with pain. Coppery-tasting blood seeped from the fresh cut on the inside of her cheek.

He did not have to kill her to make her wish she were dead.

Heat flared in her eyes as her demon rose to defend her. This time she did not try to suppress it. Her father’s grip on her arm tightened, and he raised his fist to strike her again.

A hand seized his wrist before he could do so. He flung it off, releasing her so that he could turn on his attacker, and Raven stumbled free.

Blade.

How had he gotten here?

His shirt was untucked, as if he had crawled from his blankets, but he wore boots and trousers. His black, sleep-tousled hair fell free. The amulet around his neck blazed a hot, brilliant blue. She sensed no emotion in him at all, buried or otherwise. His harsh face, all angles and planes, remained impassive, but while he looked every inch the assassin—something too easy for her to forget sometimes—not even he was a match for a demon.

Raven tried to push past her father to reach him, to lend him her demon’s protection, but her father swept her aside, knocking her to the ground. Sharp, crumbled rock bit into the heels of her palms.

Blade’s eyes never left the demon. “Touch her again,” he said, “and you die.”

Surprise at the bold threat etched her father’s face, followed by ugly amusement. He retained his mortal form, although Raven doubted if that was by choice. His gaze flickered to the amulet around Blade’s neck.

“I see you’ve discovered the amulet’s purpose,” the demon said. His eyes narrowed on Blade, his hatred plain to see. “We’ve reached an impasse, mortal. I can’t kill you while you wear it, and since you’ve not yet tried, I don’t believe you can kill me either.” Raven rose slowly, brushing the grit from her hands. Her father’s sharp eyes shifted to regard her with cold contempt. “He makes you weak.”

“Come here,” Blade said to her. He continued to watch the demon as he spoke.

Lightning shredded the dark strip of sky above, followed by a low, rolling boom of thunder. Near Raven’s feet, a long fissure cracked open and blue-tinted steam hissed into the air, stinking of sulfur. Instinctively she flinched away from it, putting her a few steps closer to her father and the edge of the cliff.

Blade’s attention diverted from the demon to her, just for a second, but it was long enough. Her father vanished.

The blue flame in Blade’s amulet died away, as did the fire beneath Raven’s skin, although her demon was not yet mollified. It responded to Blade’s presence and the danger to him with a desire and possessiveness Raven could not seem to quell. She dug her fingers into her wild mass of curls, shoving them off her face, as glad as her demon to have him with her.

Blade looked at her for a long time as the fissure continued to spew foul-smelling steam. His expression did not change, but his distaste for his surroundings was evident enough. He reached for her hand and drew her to him, then stroked her bruised face with his fingertips. Although he was gentle, the contact made her cheek throb painfully. His dark eyes kindled with unsuppressed anger.

“If I can figure out how to kill your father for this, I will,” he said.

Some of the chill in her heart seeped away, warmed by his defense of her, the reminder that she was not yet alone.

“How did you know that the amulet could bring you here or that it would protect you from him?” she asked.

“I didn’t know anything. I was asleep, then you were in danger.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “What were you thinking, coming here like this, when your emotions were high?”

She did not want him to know that she had not come here by choice but because her father had saved her life.

She did not have to explain. He put his arms around her and held her, his relief that she was alive even more obvious than his anger, telling her that she was not yet unimportant to him.

Her own relief was equally enormous. She had not known that her mother’s amulet could bring Blade here. If she had, she wouldn’t have given it to him. The thought of the danger he had just faced terrified her far more than the fall from the cliff had. Without knowing he was protected, he had threatened a demon on her behalf.

“We have to leave here before other demons find us,” Blade said. “You’re sending out signals a dead man could follow.”

She had to smile at that, although she knew he was right. It was unsafe for her to be here when she was in this state. Besides, morning was almost upon them and it was past time to leave.

“Will you promise me one thing?” she asked.

Blade’s face did not soften. The blackness of his eyes held a fierce heat that scorched where they touched her. “I’ll promise you anything that’s in my power to give.”

Clutching his open shirtfront in her fists, she drew herself up so her lips touched the spot beneath his ear. She did not want to be overheard expressing a fear to him.

“Don’t let him own me,” she said, just as the sun burst over the horizon. “I’d rather be dead.”

…

Blade’s eyelids flew open, her words ringing in his head. The familiar tarpaulin ceiling of their shelter greeted him. He threw back the blankets, hauled on his boots, and burst coatless through the flap into the crisp morning air of the mortal world.

Where was Raven?

She stood at the very edge of the thin precipice, her eyes closed, and his heart pounded with fear. One small misstep and she would be over the edge.

He walked carefully toward her, not wanting to startle her but intent on removing her from danger. When he was within reach, he grabbed the sleeve of her coat and pulled her to him.

Then he had her in his arms, warm and secure against his chest. A darkening bruise bloomed across her swelling cheek.

It had not been a nightmare.

She opened her eyes as if startled to see him, then curled into his body, pressing her face against the curve of his shoulder. He massaged the back of her head with his fingertips, the tangled mass of glossy curls sliding over his knuckles, his thoughts chaotic and difficult for him to contain. Fear, desire, anger, possessiveness—they all swirled inside him.

He would never let her father have her.

He had made such a mistake. He’d worried about how she would react to Creed’s message and only intended to allow her time alone to come to terms with it. The possibility it might weaken her and leave her vulnerable had never entered his mind. He should have known. He should have stayed by her side, protected her. He would not make this mistake again.

The danger to her in the demon boundary might have passed, but she was still not safe. He had never been responsible for another to such an extent, and he’d never known this type of all-encompassing fear. The thought of failing her plagued him. He had not felt this inadequate since before the use of his leg had been restored. He disentangled his fingers from her hair and buried the emotion as deep as he could, not wanting to acknowledge it or for her to sense it.

“Get your things.” His voice came out harsher than intended, but she nodded.

Blade checked their stores, satisfied they had enough food to last them for a few weeks more. Villages would be few and far between where they were headed, and possibly unfriendly. They would continue to avoid them whenever possible.

When they finished packing, he strapped the rifle sleeve to his back. A rifle’s report would not be a problem where they were headed, and its range, a necessity. He examined the sky, which was clear and blue, the sun still several fingers from noon. He took a deep breath and looked over at Raven. They both knew it was time to go.

Instead of turning toward the unbroken passage that led down the mountain, Blade set off in the opposite direction.

“I thought we were leaving the mountains,” Raven said, wading through a drift to keep up with his longer strides.

He slowed his pace to match hers. “We are. We’re going to descend from the other side.”

Her steps faltered. “But the world ends past the final summit.”

That was the common belief, and one the Godseekers perpetuated. There was a reason the Temple of Immortal Right was located so close to the goddesses’ boundary. They had no wish for ordinary people to find it. Only the goddesses’ chosen could enter, and even they could not cross.

Or so the Godseekers claimed. In Blade’s time at the temple, no one had ever tried.

“No one knows that for certain,” he said. “We’re going to find out.” She still seemed uncertain though, which was so out of character for her that he reached over to slide his fingers around the nape of her neck to draw her closer to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead near her mass of unruly curls before releasing her. “You’ve faced demons in the demon boundary. The goddess boundary can’t possibly compare to that. And if it does, we’ll turn back.”

They pressed on until well into late afternoon. When they reached a small valley, burrowed between ragged cliffs and magnificent granite arches, they stopped. At the valley’s bottom, a deep blue lake bounded by sparse, bristlecone pines glistened in the fading remnants of the day. A thin sheet of ice adorned the lake’s center, encircled by open water. Wind, and the heat of the sun, had scrubbed the ground around it bare of all but a few patches of melting snow.

By the time they found a spot suitable for camp among the trees and tumbled boulders, Blade was far more exhausted than Raven seemed. He had not slept in almost two days. Time, too, had dulled his memories. He was less familiar with this part of the mountain range, and finding his way through it had proven a challenge.

Raven dropped her pack, then collected her bow and quiver of arrows. Her diamond eyes, filled with curiosity, were fastened on the lake.

“I’ll gather firewood,” she said.

As much as he would prefer otherwise, Blade did not intend to smother her. He could not let his worry overrule common sense. He just nodded and began erecting their shelter while she went off alone. But he did not like having her too far out of his reach, so he set a time limit. If she did not return within it, he would join her, and they could gather firewood together.

He explored the area surrounding the shelter while he waited, idly wondering what sort of wildlife existed here. The fresh water from the lake was an asset, but it also attracted other creatures, including wolven. They had been fortunate to avoid them at the higher elevations, partly thanks to the weather, but they had reached the far side of the mountain now and begun their descent into woodlands. They would need to take greater care against possible predators.

Blade crouched down, resting on his heels, and watched Raven as she skipped nimbly over puddles of melting snow to the edge of the lake. She seemed fascinated. Growing up on the edge of the desert, all that water would be novel to her, he supposed. It had been a long time for him, too, since he had seen so much of it, so he could well understand.

It was Raven who truly held his interest, however. She had thrown back her hood so that her curls bounced around her flushed cheeks, and she tucked one glove beneath her arm as she bent to touch the water’s surface with her bare fingertips. The heavy coat and thick trousers she wore were not flattering, but her natural grace was apparent in the lithe way she moved, and the delicate curves of her throat and wrist hinted at what was underneath.

She was not, Blade thought, the only one who appreciated beauty in its many forms. More often than not, she took his breath away. He’d never had anything of so much importance to protect.

And he had almost lost her today.

Her bow lay on the ground near her, within easy reach, and every once in a while she would look up at him, as if to make certain he was still there. The gesture warmed him, and most of the fatigue he had been fighting for the past few hours gradually sloughed away.

The bruise on her face from her father’s blow, visible even from this distance, continued to gnaw at his conscience. It should never have happened. If they could move out of the mountains and into a land protected from demons by the goddesses, he hoped Raven might be safe from them, too. If the land was as vast as the books he’d read promised, Justice would never be able to find her either. If he did, Blade could kill him and no one would ever know.

With a start, Blade realized how bright the future looked to him. How hopeful. And how foolish he was to be daydreaming when he should be focused on the present and its uncertainties.

A lone black crow burst into the air from the crown of one of the bristlecone pine trees a few hundred paces behind Raven. It circled, loudly scolding whatever had disturbed it.

Blade craned his neck but saw nothing amidst the trees. He straightened, stretching the kinks from his knees as he prepared to make his way to the lake. Raven’s time was up. It would be completely dark soon, and they needed that wood for the fire.

He began to pick through the broken chunks of rock and between the bony pines toward the water’s edge. Shadows moved across the ground, breaking free from the lingering path of the retreating sun, and headed for Raven, who had her back turned to him.

It was the position of the shadows’ movements in relation to the sun that first caught Blade’s eye, but it took a fraction of a second longer for his brain to process that what he saw was not normal.

He hooked his rifle from the sleeve slung across his back, then dropped to a knee and took aim at one of the shadows. As it drew closer to Raven it wavered, coalesced, and began to gain in substance until it took solid form. He sighted down the weapon’s barrel, his finger tightening on the trigger even as he shouted a warning.

“Raven, run!”

Chapter Thirteen

In the early light of morning, Justice watched from the courtyard training area as Creed left the temple through the front gate, headed in the opposite direction than the one he’d taken with Blade the night before.

It had been two days since the storm had passed. Time was now working against Justice.

He turned to Might. “Find out where he’s headed,” he said, his breath puffing in small clouds as he spoke. “And what he does when he gets there. Meet me back in Goldrush in two weeks.”

Might nodded. He knew better than to track an assassin too closely and would leave a few hours behind him.

While Might pursued Creed, Justice and Cage would track the assassin Blade. His footsteps from the previous night were already old, so they could leave at once. While Justice did not dare trail him too closely either, he did not want to lose him altogether.

They left their hross in the temple’s stable and began their trek across the mountain, making their exit from the side posterns through which Creed and Blade had left during the night. Cage was the best tracker Justice knew, and the footsteps in the broken snow were plain to see, yet he complained more than once that Justice was following with his hopes, not his eyes.

Justice frowned. The guards from the night before had also not noted Creed’s passing through the courtyard or seen the tracks. He had meant to discuss that with Siege.

An alarm niggled at the back of his mind, but his thoughts drifted away from it. Instead they turned to Raven’s mother.

He had not thought about Columbine in any great depth since long before her death. She had once been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, nearly a goddess, and despite the rumors surrounding her daughter’s conception, he had wanted her more than anything, even wealth. But as time passed and he had discovered a demon possessed her affections, his desire for her had turned to disgust, and eventually, hatred. If he had been strong enough to overcome his youthful passion for a goddess, Columbine, too, should have been able to do the same with hers for a demon lover. The only reason Justice had not abandoned her entirely was because of her skill as an artisan and the valuable jewelry she had crafted. When Raven’s skills reached the same level, he’d had no further need of her.

But this unrelenting desire for Raven made him despise himself for a weakness he had thought overcome long ago. That she had found two allies among the Godseeker assassins enraged him further.

Cage suddenly stopped and looked down. He pointed at the faint imprint of a man’s boots, partially erased by windswept snow.

“There,” he said. Disbelief drenched his tone. “The tracks begin out of nowhere.”

They had been following the assassin for more than an hour by now. Justice grunted, but he said nothing to correct him.

As the day wore on, however, and the tracks slowly vanished thanks to the blustering wind, Cage’s tracking abilities became invaluable. He found signs that Justice would never have seen, in part because he anticipated where to look for them.

“The assassin knows how to cover his tracks,” Cage muttered at one point as he swept his hands through a drift, searching for deeper prints that would reveal the direction they needed to pursue.

Near nightfall, they came upon the remains of a camp at the base of a bluff. The ground was well trampled, indicating a prolonged stay, but when they searched, two fresh sets of tracks could be seen heading away. One set was very small and obviously belonged to a woman. Impatience roared in Justice that they were now so close, but as the sun disappeared over the horizon, pursuit was done for the day.

“We’ll have to spend the night here,” he said, “then continue on at first light.” He had not forgotten the burned-out village or that the mountains held dangers other than Blade. It was unwise to go on in the dark. “Can you determine which way they’ve headed?”

Cage scouted the area. He was gone long enough that Justice began to wonder if perhaps the assassin had not abandoned the camp after all but lay in wait for him somewhere close by.

He should have thought of the possibility before.

He shrugged his shoulders deeper into his coat, the flesh between his shoulders crawling, and took a quick glance around. A chunk of frozen snow broke free of the bluff above to glide down the bumpy rock face, startling him, and he dropped one hand to his holster before it hit the ground. A footstep sounded behind him, and he pivoted toward it, pistol in hand.

It was Cage. He held his empty hands up and palms outward.

Justice tucked the weapon back into its holster, feeling foolish and annoyed at being caught acting so edgy, and he opened his mouth to chastise the other man.

Cage moved his finger to his lips, requesting silence.

“We’re being followed,” he said to Justice, his voice quiet.

Justice flexed his hands. He should have been more alert, but his thoughts had been clouded all day. He blamed Creed for this uncharacteristic inattention to danger. It would please the young assassin if Justice failed to find Raven—or return to the temple. Suspicion raised icy hackles.

What if the two assassins had joined forces against him?

“How many?” he asked Cage, keeping his voice equally soft.

Cage’s thin, ferret-like face creased into a frown. “I don’t know for certain.”

That was not encouraging news. They had a drop-off on one side and were trapped by the sheer mountain bluff on the other. Their only escape route lay back the way they had come. If they chose to leave, they might be walking into an ambush. Here, they at least had a strong defensive position.

“We wait,” Justice decided. “Whoever is out there, let them come to us.”

They did not wait long. From around the bluff a lone woman strode toward them, blue flame pirouetting on her palms.

The flame arced, and a ring of blue fire erupted, trapping the two men inside.

…

Raven heard Blade’s warning shout. When she saw him running, she didn’t hesitate. She snatched up her bow and broke from the water’s edge to sprint in a half crouch toward him.

A ripple disturbed the air as a bullet tore over her head, followed by the percussive crack of Blade’s rifle. Then something slammed into her back and knocked her face down to the ground.

A sharp rock jabbed into her breastbone, and although her heavy layer of clothing provided some cushioning, the pressure shot pain through her chest. Another shot rang out. Dirt sprayed her face as the bullet dragged a furrow through the ground next to her head. She did not doubt Blade was an excellent shot and wasted no time worrying that he might strike her by accident. She was far more afraid of being pinned to the ground by an unknown opponent.

She threw her hands up and grabbed her assailant by the back of the neck, hauling his head down beside hers. He tried to punch her in the kidneys, which had little effect since he could not put any strength behind the blows from his current head-locked position. Her clothing offered added protection. Raven struggled to get to her knees, hoping to roll her assailant over her shoulder and away from her to give Blade a better, unimpeded shot at him.

The ground was slick with dead, sodden leaves, making it hard to keep her balance as she tried to shift position. An arm snaked around her waist, flipping her with unexpected strength, so that she became, in effect, a shield. Another arm went about her neck, pressing into her throat.

At once, Raven changed tactics. She went limp, dragging her opponent back to the ground so that Raven was facedown against it, and tried to draw on her demon allure. The shadows moved closer, drawn to the allure she emitted, but they did not solidify completely as a true demon would. Her heart raced.

Where was Blade?

Another rifle report answered her question, and explained why the shadows had not completely taken their mortal forms. As long as they did not, Blade’s bullets would pass through them and they could not be harmed.

The forearm tightened against her throat. “Stand back!” a voice near her ear said sharply to the shadows.

Surprise shuddered through Raven. Her assailant was a woman, not a man.

The woman was also afraid, her hold trembling slightly—but of what, Raven remained uncertain. The thoughts bombarding her were chaotic, scattered and ill formed, as if their owner had been under a great deal of intense and prolonged stress. One thing Raven understood quite well, however. The woman intended to kill her. All that saved her life right now was Blade’s rifle fire.

She tried to calm her own thoughts and come up with a plan. She could not see Blade because her face remained pressed against the half-frozen ground, but the shots told her he was very close. If the shadow people went for him, he would have no defense against them. That meant she had to keep them near her…and distracted. Allure might not work on the woman holding her, but it would keep the males away from Blade.

“Release your hold on them or I’ll break your neck,” the woman snapped in her ear.

Raven flung her arms above and behind her, taking her own two-handed grip on her attacker’s nape. The assailant had strength in her favor, nothing more. She did not know how to fight, and her hold on Raven’s throat was insufficient for the leverage required to carry out such an action.

The other woman’s fear remained palpable, however. Her thoughts twisted and turned as she, too, tried to come up with some sort of resolution that assured her survival and that of her companions.

The assailant should be afraid. She had attacked Raven without provocation, and Blade would not hesitate to shoot her simply because she was a woman. But something was not right about this situation. Her attacker’s fear had deep roots and was not the result of Blade firing several warning shots. As Raven absorbed the woman’s emotions, pity stirred. Terrible things had happened to her.

Raven dug deeper, picking through unguarded thoughts and images to recreate the story. The woman had been in the burned-out village. Her demon ability to shift to shadow was how she had escaped the massacre unnoticed, but she had not been able to protect her children. She had met up with her shadow companions after the bloodshed.

All they sought now was safety. Raven could easily empathize with that.

She relinquished her hold on the woman, then spread her arms and legs wide on the ground so that she was stretched out on her stomach in a prone, submissive position.

“I had no part in what happened,” Raven said. “We came across your village several days after the fire. Please. Let me up so we can talk.”

The woman hesitated. She wanted to believe. To trust. She began to rise when Raven remembered that Blade did not know what was happening. She grabbed the woman and rolled with her, dragging her to the side and out of danger as a bullet whined past where the woman’s head would have been.

With Raven now intent on securing the woman’s safety, she could no longer hold the shadows. Two of them broke away to move at a run toward Blade.

“Blade, don’t shoot!” Raven shouted out to him. She turned to the woman. “Don’t let them hurt him. He believes I’m in danger. Stop them!”

Conflict contorted the woman’s face, her fear warring with what Raven knew to be decency. Raven tried to breathe, terrified for Blade, but she forced herself to remain where she was to save the woman’s life. If Blade killed her, she did not know what the woman’s companions might do to him.

The woman stared hard at Raven, who examined her in return. She had wavy, golden-brown hair and shining eyes the color of bluegrass. Raven dug through the woman’s thoughts.

Her name was Laurel, and as she called the others back to her she shifted to shadow, melting away with the last light of the day.

…

Someone had been following Creed for the better part of the day.

The wind had warmed, and the snow melted beneath the added onslaught of the sun. The man dogging him kept well back, but it was not difficult to know he was there. Whenever Creed paused for a break a casual glance around would reveal a dark spot behind him where only the white of snow should be or birds taking flight and circling en masse in the sky as if they had been inconvenienced.

Once his route was established and his destination obvious, Creed had planned to double back and follow Blade to Raven. He was not yet convinced that she was safe with the other man. Creed did not trust anyone he could not read, and all he had sensed from the implacable assassin was cold determination. But now Creed was being followed with such diligence he could not continue with his plan. That left him irritable and impatient.

After sundown, when it became too dark to keep watch behind him, he stopped at a large hollow in one of the cliff faces, dropped his packs, and prepared to set up camp for the night. He cleared a space of snow, hauled out a few items, then slipped into a small copse of trees as if he were searching for firewood. From there, he trudged back through the brush and pockets of snow, untouched by the wind or the sun throughout the day, to where he had last seen signs of his uninvited travel companion.

By the time he found him, it was fully dark.

Might was the one who followed him, which puzzled Creed at first, because Cage was the better tracker. Then Creed realized that Justice had another, more important, trail he needed Cage to pursue, and it led to Raven.

Creed had not foreseen this, and called himself stupid. The best course of action would be for him to kill Might as quickly and silently as possible. He reached for one of his knives. Like most assassins, he did not use a gun or rifle unless he had to—sound traveled too easily.

He hesitated, then slid the knife back in its sheath. It might be better to lead Might as far off course as possible, lose him in one of the many mountain passes, and trust that Raven was in good hands.

…

Justice noticed two things about the woman in quick succession, aside from the demon fire she manipulated in her hands. First, she had startling, blue-black hair that flowed like spilled oil to her waist. Second, she was not dressed for the cold. Her low-cut white blouse and calico skirt were better meant for inside a saloon than on a snowy mountain.

As she advanced toward the ring of blue fire, cruelty sharpened a face that might otherwise have been beautiful. The flames surrounding the two men stretched and thinned at her approach, reaching for the cliff tops, then fattened and squatted, as if compelled by an unseen force to kneel before her.

A boiling mass of red-hot anger surged inside Justice at being imprisoned by a woman. The anger was tempered by a small degree of caution as he recalled in vivid detail the remnants of the small mountain village, destroyed by fire.

Cage remained watchful beside him. Justice knew by the wary speculation in his companion’s eyes that he, too, understood the meaning of the blue flames and remembered the settlement. The fact they were still alive told Justice there was hope for them yet.

His brain spun furiously. Whether she was goddess, spawn, or mere mortal, he would not be bested by any woman. Everyone had a price. He wondered what he had that might buy their lives and their freedom, but whatever he gave her, it would be on his terms. Information, perhaps. But about what?

“You dare attack the goddesses’ faithful in the Godseeker Mountains?” he asked the woman, careful to sound curious rather than confrontational. He made an oblique reference to the ill-fated village and its burned-down temple and wondered if she would address it.

Her mouth twisted in an unpleasant smile. “You’d be surprised who has been living peacefully amongst the faithful for years, only to be attacked by them first, and without provocation, when they revealed themselves.”

Justice pondered her words. He knew demons hated spawn even more than mortal men, and spawn who valued their lives would have hidden their existence from mortal and immortal alike. But with the departure of the immortals they grew bolder.

And this one was seeking revenge. Justice could almost smell it on her.

Sweat dripped down his back as the ring of fire tightened around them. If it was revenge against the faithful she sought, then his being a Godseeker would not save their lives.

Being Raven’s stepfather might. It depended how he played that card.

“I wouldn’t be as surprised as you might think. My stepdaughter is spawn,” he said, watching carefully for her reaction.

Interest spiked in her eyes, although not her tone, which remained hard. “What do I care what your stepdaughter is?”

“She survived among the faithful for years too, and without discovery, until the demons departed. I’m trying to find her now and bring her home.”

“What will happen to her if you do?”

He tried to sift out the response that would best win her over. She was suspicious of his motives, which was to be expected. “She’s all I have left of her mother. I’ll continue to care for her, as I always have.”

The woman spun the flames, making them twirl like burning blue dust devils. The flames were captured in her eyes, giving them a peculiar cast that made the sweat turn to ice as it trickled along his spine.

“How odd it is, then,” she said, “that just a few short weeks ago, a Godseeker publicly denounced his stepdaughter as a spawn and attempted to burn her alive.” She tipped her head to one side. A private smile danced on her lips. “Would you like to know how many more spawn have been living in these goddess-forsaken mountains for so many years, safe from their demon fathers?”

She waded closer through the melting snow and thick layer of fog, the hem of her skirt dragging in the slush her passage created, and the fiery ring shrank even tighter around them. Justice felt the flesh on his face begin to sear, and steam curled from his soaked clothing.

“We can make a run for it through the flames,” Cage said. His cheeks had grown shining red, yet he, too, stood his ground.

“No. We wait.” Justice did not intend for either of them to break. A panicked dash through demon fire would not save them. If anything, it would most likely give this half demon pleasure. No one burned a village full of people to death the way she had unless they enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering on others.

“Were there spawn among the villagers you burned?” he asked her.

Malicious joy twisted her features. “Only the ones who wouldn’t join me.”

“My stepdaughter won’t join you, either. She’s already enslaved two assassins in the short time she’s been free,” Justice added. “What do you suppose that says about her abilities? And her intentions? Why would she need to join you?”

The woman hesitated. The gyrating flames became less kinetic and their blistering heat abated to an almost bearable level. He speculated as to the extent of her demon abilities. If fire was all the talent she possessed, then that would explain why she needed others to join her.

It did not explain how she had managed to gather all those people into the temple and keep them from escaping while she burned them alive. She had not tried to hold either him or Cage in thrall, so that was unlikely an ability she possessed in any significant amount.

Whatever her objective, she needed allies to achieve it.

He pressed on. “I want my daughter back. If you help me, I can guarantee you safe passage out of these mountains in return. I have no interest in what you did, or do, other than that you do it elsewhere. The Godseeker assassins will be hunting you soon enough. They already know about one village you destroyed by demon fire, and they’ll be prepared for you to do it again. Are your other demon talents enough to keep you alive?”

“I have any number of talents you know nothing about.” She spoke with bravado, but the increasingly erratic shift of the flames indicated to Justice that she worked hard at maintaining them.

The flames began to recede. He tasted victory.

The woman spoke a few words that he could not quite interpret. A second circle of fire joined the first, touching so that they created a giant figure eight. An enormous, crouching figure materialized in the second ring, its shadowy presence flickering unnervingly in the flaming night.

It straightened to more than eight feet in height. Massive biceps curled from shoulders broad enough to support the weight of a full-grown hross.

Justice’s elation soured, and Cage tensed beside him.

“What?” the woman asked, as if enjoying their surprise. She lowered a hand to her hip and arched an eyebrow upward. She glanced at the demon, then back to the two men still contained by fire in one half of the conjoined circles. “Did you think I traveled alone?”

Chapter Fourteen

Blade tossed another piece of damp wood on the sputtering and smoldering flames while keeping an observant eye on the three men and one woman seated around the fire with them. He did not miss the nervous way the men regarded him in return.

They had reason to be wary—he did not trust them. He wished they had continued on their way and ignored Raven’s pleas for open discussion. Since they had not, he’d warned her to keep the location of Roam’s mountain village to herself. When she tried to argue, he had pointed out that there were other villages in the mountains where they could seek refuge. The one Roam had spoken of was far too close to the assassins to be safe for too many people, and they had no idea of the actual numbers Roam had already contacted.

Sitting cross-legged on the cold ground, Blade yawned and blinked, his eyelids dragging grit across his eyes. It had been a long and trying day, but his helplessness when Raven was attacked left him hyperaware—he would not sleep well with these people here. The shadows interwoven amongst the skeletal trees of the desolate valley enhanced his unease. He expected them to come to life at any moment. Full demons could not hold their monster forms when close to Raven, but these spawn seemed able to hold their shadow around her with no trouble at all.

A pale, silver moon, blurred by the bleak night sky, reflected in broken bits and pieces of shimmering light off the rippled black waters of the lake below. The soft sounds of waves lapping at the shoreline filled the drawn-out pauses interspersed between the women’s chatter.

The men had not introduced themselves, so Blade had not bothered, either. He knew the woman’s name was Laurel only because Raven had somehow drawn it from her thoughts, and repeated it in a quiet, soothing manner that generated calm.

Laurel was a good deal older than the men, and although perhaps not quite old enough to be their mother, she would at least pass for an older sister. All four shared a familial resemblance in the light brown coloring of their hair and an attractive, although unremarkable, cornflower blue to their eyes. Even though the men allowed Laurel to speak for them, which in itself was unusual, they did not seem to know each other especially well. Blade guessed their physical resemblance had been passed to them by a common demon ancestor since they all shared a talent for shifting to shadow. Other than that, their connection did not seem close, and they appeared to have come together out of necessity. He knew Raven felt pity for them and a degree of affinity. They, too, traveled higher into these mountains to find safety.

It was as Roam had warned—throughout the world, demon spawn had begun to emerge from hiding. And not all of them were harmless. While Blade appreciated the precariousness of their situation, he did not plan to make their troubles his. It would be difficult enough for him to conceal Raven from experienced trackers. But four more people?

“I don’t understand,” Raven was saying to Laurel. Confusion crackled in her pretty eyes. “You say a woman destroyed your village?”

“You don’t believe that women can be evil?” Blade interrupted.

Raven looked at him, her aggravation with him plain to see in her expression. “Of course they can. What I find hard to believe is that any woman—or man—could do such a thing alone.”

One of the men darted a glance into the shadows, then eased closer to the fire. “She didn’t act alone,” he said. “She raised a demon to do it for her.”

Blade’s splayed hands tightened on his knees. He was wide-awake now. This was not welcome news.

“I would never have believed it possible now that demons have been banished from the world,” Laurel added. Her voice shook. “But it seems that somehow, this woman can raise them. She arrived at the village and claimed to be a goddess. A few little tricks, and she had everyone convinced.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I didn’t really believe in her, but I didn’t dare go to the temple with the others, just in case she’d know what I was and reveal me. I couldn’t convince my husband not to go, though, and he insisted on taking the children.” The tears dripped off her lashes and onto her cheeks. “I couldn’t very well say anything to him, could I? How could I tell him his children had demon blood, even if only a little?” Raven reached for her hand and clasped it tightly. “We all lost at least someone,” Laurel added, looking at the others. “We met up afterward, when we went back to look for survivors. That was when we realized we have something in common.”

Blade did not want to sympathize with them. A lot of people experienced tragedy in their lives and survived.

“How did she raise the demon?” he asked.

Laurel looked at him, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

“She has to control it somehow,” he said. “What did she do? Was there a ritual of some kind?”

“I can’t remember.” Laurel passed a hand over her eyes in an unconscious attempt to wipe away images only she could see.

Blade knew she might never remember the details of that day simply because she did not want to, and he did not blame her for it. Replaying the tragedy would not bring her family and friends back.

But it nagged at him that this woman spawn she spoke of had raised a demon. Raven’s father had wanted her to summon him, too, and he would not want such a thing unless he knew he’d be in control. It made no sense otherwise.

“Fire,” the man who had spoken before said. “She called the demon into a circle of blue fire that surrounded the temple.”

Such a circle would have been enormous. Now, Blade really did not believe she had done it on her own. He rubbed his temple with the heel of one palm, trying to think logically with a brain that was too tired to function.

“I’ve seen demons raised,” he said. It was not something that could ever be forgotten. “But by a priestess who invoked the protection of both the Demon Lord and the goddesses. Her circles were made of sanctified water that demons couldn’t cross. I’m not convinced demon fire alone could really contain one, at least not for long.”

“It must,” Raven said. “No demon would allow itself to be held if it had a choice.”

Demons did what suited their own interests. If this one had something to gain from the woman believing she controlled it, then it would allow the illusion to be maintained. Temporarily.

Blade kept his opinions and reservations quiet. These people were frightened enough, and he did not want to alarm Raven either, but he wished his friend Hunter were here so they could discuss the matter. Hunter’s new wife, Airie, had been the one to banish the demons.

But Blade was on his own, and the possibility of demons returning to the mortal world was enough to hammer thick, numbing shards of ice through his temples.

He rubbed his scarred leg as he focused on the trail of smoke rising from the small campfire and mentally counted to ten until the numbness passed.

Raven was watching him, concern obvious in her eyes. Rubbing his leg had been a telling reveal to her, and she must have felt the shift in his emotions. He blamed his carelessness on fatigue and was glad he had not been touching her at that moment or she would have been able to read his thoughts, too.

A fallen log in the fire cracked and split apart, revealing the red-hot embers inside. Sparks sprayed, then dulled to tiny flecks of falling ash. He rose. “Discussing this further is mere speculation. I’m ready to turn in for the night.” He nodded to the three men. “If you leave before I wake, then I wish you a safe journey.”

“We could all continue on tomorrow together,” Raven said to him, hope in her eyes.

Her suggestion was met with silence and a lack of enthusiasm on everyone’s part. What Raven did not seem to understand, or chose not to see, was that Blade was not one of them. These people did not trust him any more than he trusted them.

He had noticed something else he did not like. The youngest of the men had not been able to take his eyes off Raven since she’d joined them around the fire. It might be best if Blade kept her separated from him.

“We continue on alone,” he said to Raven, loud enough for the others to hear.

The other men nodded, although the youngest with less conviction.

Laurel’s hands fussed with the folds of her heavy cape. “I think that’s for the best,” she said.

Blade read disappointment and reproach on Raven’s face when she looked at him. She refused the hand he held out to her, rising to her feet unassisted as she uttered wishes to the others for peaceful dreams.

His dreams would not be. They would be tainted by worry because she was troubled, which in turn exposed her to the demon boundary, and he prepared himself for another sleepless night.

They slept with the flap of their shelter open because Raven liked to watch the emerging stars. Blade liked to be warned of anything that might come too close in the night.

“Why don’t you want us to travel together?” she asked him, her voice a soft whisper against his throat so it could not be overheard.

“I don’t want them to know where we’re going. What they don’t know can’t be repeated. If we’re successful in crossing from the Godseeker Mountains, I don’t want others to know that it’s possible. We don’t want to take the problems from our world to a people who might have no knowledge of spawn, or even of the immortals themselves.”

“Laurel and her companions aren’t dangerous,” Raven said. “I’d know if they were.”

Blade agreed with her about that much. Their danger was not in their intentions, but in what they themselves were. Laurel’d had a family. The news of spawn bearing children made Blade more aware than ever of the potential magnitude of their numbers. Laurel’s children would have been one quarter demon, and that was assuming that Laurel herself was half. Blade was no expert on breeding, but if her husband had also been half demon, any of their children could have been born with more demon characteristics than mortal ones. That made the world perhaps even less stable now than before the demons were banished. The realization was disturbing.

“I don’t believe they mean to be,” Blade said. “But it’s not just them we should worry about. What if spawn were to settle in a strange land that knows nothing of demons, then marry mortals and have children with them? Who can guarantee that those children won’t someday become problems? Do we have the right to take this into an unsuspecting world?”

The silence stretched to the point he wondered if she had fallen asleep. He began to drift off.

Then she spoke. “You’re right. There wouldn’t be any guarantee about children.” She sounded thoughtful and less angry with him than before, but she pulled a length of blanket from under his arm and rolled away so that they barely touched.

He stared at the black sky for a long time after that, unable to sleep, as he had predicted, but not for the reasons he’d anticipated.

He’d said something wrong and had no idea what it might have been.

…

The woman had summoned a demon.

She had brought it into the second circle of the linked figure eight however, indicating to Justice that she did not intend them immediate harm. She planned to play with them first, the way a cat played with a mouse.

Cold and fatigue were forgotten as Justice’s mind raced to cobble together a plan of action that might save their lives. Rapid-fire thoughts twisted through his head. He had never seen a summoning before but had heard they were conducted by priestesses whose containing circles were drawn using water consecrated by the goddesses.

Demons, however, had been banished from the world, so summoning one should no longer be possible. And as far as he could tell, this woman did not have water of any kind on her, consecrated or not.

But she had raised one nonetheless, and hers was surrounded only by demon fire.

Justice saw the sly way the demon regarded her, how the muscles of its face and shoulders tightened as if ready to spring every time her concentration wavered and the blue flames flickered. The demon was why her control over the fire was now so erratic, he thought. That was what she did not know or understand. It toyed with her and allowed her to believe she was in charge, when Justice suspected all that really kept it contained was an inability to cross completely into the mortal world because of the banishment.

“We should make a run for it while her attention is divided,” Cage said to him. “She can’t maintain both circles for much longer, and I’m willing to bet if she has to choose between them, she’ll keep the demon contained.”

Cage’s chest expanded and contracted as if he fought for every breath, which had to be at least partly the case. The air was already thin at this elevation, and the fire surrounding them burned up enough of what little remained within it to make them both light-headed.

That explained why Cage had not thought his plan through with more care.

Justice grabbed his friend’s arm above the elbow. “No,” he said. “That’s the last thing we should do. If we run, we’ll have to pass too close to the demon.” He was not convinced it was adequately restrained.

Cage’s nose began to bleed in the thinning air, and the demon’s head swiveled sharply to stare at the blood streaming from his nostrils. Cage wiped at it with the back of his sleeve before pinching his nose in an effort to stem the flow. The demon, transfixed, followed each movement.

The woman, too, had taken note of the blood, as if equally fascinated.

Cage, who in most situations could remain calmer and more steadfast than even Justice, cracked. He shook off Justice’s hand, and with his arms covering his head, dashed through the flames toward freedom.

As predicted, his mad flight took him too close to the demon. Justice watched in numb horror as it reached one hammer-like fist through the ring of fire and snagged the back of Cage’s coat. It lifted the man into the air, his legs peddling crazily, and drew him inside the circle.

Cage’s screams curdled Justice’s insides. Never in his life had he heard a man make such terrified, animal noises. The worst, however, was when the demon started to feed. Beginning at the lower extremities it tore the flesh from Cage’s body, eating the man alive.

Fear settled into the fibers of Justice’s flesh, bone-chillingly cold and so deep not even the fire encircling him could banish it. Yet he forced himself to watch, to keep his fear and revulsion from showing, because while he was witnessing his friend’s final moments he knew the woman studied him, and he had learned from his time with a goddess. Revealing weaknesses to an immortal gave it an opportunity to exploit them. He dared take no chances that the same would hold true for spawn.

When the screams finally stopped and all signs of life had ebbed from Cage’s torn and battered remains, the demon tossed him aside. Blood and gore dripped from its jaws and between the knuckles of its clenched claws.

The woman spoke a sharp command. Hatred filled the demon’s eyes, but she did not seem to care. She was too busy fighting to keep the flames encircling it in place.

Cage had been correct in that she could not hold both circles. The fire around Justice died away, leaving a blackened ring of scorched earth behind as she concentrated on the demon.

He pushed all thoughts of his friend from his mind. He had told Cage to stand his ground, and he had paid a heavy price for not heeding the warning.

After a few more harsh words of command, the demon bowed its head and was gone. Justice’s eyesight slowly adjusted to the sudden, deepening twilight. The woman looked tired. The summoning, and maintaining the fire, had taken much of her strength. Her hands shook with fine tremors from her fingertips to her wrists.

She had not yet recovered enough to turn her attention back to him, and he took several quick steps toward her and struck her, hard, across the face, knocking her to the ground.

“That was for my companion,” he said. He grabbed her under the arm, yanked her to her feet, and hit her again so that her head rocked back. He heard her teeth click together. “That was for not hearing me out. I’d planned to help you. Tell me why I should do so now.”

He might have caught her by surprise with the blows, but she recovered quickly enough. He felt the wash of her allure touch him, then be effortlessly deflected by the goddess amulet he wore.

This creature did not have the same thought-dissolving effect on him that Raven did. Was it because the woman had already used most of her strength to contain the demon? Or did she not have as much power as Raven to begin with?

She touched the back of her wrist to her bleeding lip. Then she licked it clean, her eyes never leaving his. The action made his insides shudder. However mortal she might look on the outside, she was demon to her core.

“Your friend was weak,” she said. Her disdain for Cage was obvious by the dismissal in her tone. “He shouldn’t have run.” Her head tipped up and down in a slow examination of Justice. “And I don’t see why I would need the help of a goddess’s discarded plaything.”

He would have liked to kill her for that. It was too soon to do so, but he might kill her yet. It depended on the answers she gave him.

He tightened his fingers, digging them into her flesh. “I’m proof that not everyone will run. Raising that demon drained you and left you defenseless. How do you plan to protect yourself? Can you protect yourself against me right now?” Her sullen silence was response enough, and he released her. “I didn’t think so. I’ll ask you one last time. Why should I help you?”

She flipped her hair away from her face and rubbed her arm where he had held it. “I should have had the demon eat you instead of your friend.”

She’d had that demon do nothing. It did as it pleased, and one thing he did not doubt was that one day it would turn on her.

He wondered if she had other talents that he had not yet seen.

“How did you manage to get all of those villagers into the temple before you set it on fire?” he asked.

“They believed I was a goddess. They came to worship me, and to celebrate my return.”

He was impressed at her daring. “Why would you attempt to make them believe such a thing? It could have easily failed.”

“If the children of demons are to survive, they need to establish their place here. Which is as immortals.” The wind stirred to lift a thick strand of her hair and tug at her skirt. “People should worship us. I took what was due to me.”

“Be that as it may, you’ll have little luck impersonating a goddess too many more times.” She was far too demon for that. Possibilities, however, were already circulating in his head. He did not yet know how he might take full advantage of such a charade, only that opportunities existed. “The assassins now know that spawn can be female, and word is spreading rapidly. But if you had the support of a Godseeker, who is also one of the goddesses’ chosen, your game might last somewhat longer.”

“What if I don’t want your support?” she asked.

The question was nothing more than arrogant female petulance. She could use him, at least for now, and they both knew it.

“How long does it take you to recover from raising a demon?” he asked.

He watched her consider her answer and weigh whether or not to tell him the truth—something that was unlikely to come easily to her.

“A week,” she said.

He would have to monitor her in order to be certain of that. The real number of days could be more or less. He suspected less.

He gave her the same slow, careful scrutiny she had given him and played along with her lie. “So for the next week you’ll be vulnerable. Mortals and spawn can all harm you. So can wolven. I could kill you right now, if I wanted. Or,” he said, “we could agree to help each other.”

Rebellion, then sullen acceptance, marred her features. “Let’s say I agree—what do you want in return?”

He thought of the old assassin trainer who did not show the proper understanding of the emerging danger of spawn. Perhaps it was time the old man learned new lessons himself.

“I believe,” Justice said slowly, “that I have someone I want you to meet.”

Chapter Fifteen

She told Justice that her name was Willow.

Justice examined her face in the morning light as they ate around a small fire. She looked to him to be several years older than Raven, but there was a level of worldly experience to her that Raven did not yet possess.

“I grew up in the desert. A few months ago, right before the demons were banished, I saw a demon summoning during a slave auction in Freetown. One of the old priestesses brought it into a circle. It didn’t seem to be difficult.” Willow dipped her spoon in her bowl, relaying her story with little emotion. “I decided to try raising one of my own.” She shrugged, her eyes on her food. She ate as if she were starved and spoke with her mouth full. “It was even easier than I expected.”

“What would possess you to summon a demon when you had no idea if you could contain it?” Justice asked.

“I was with a wagon train on its way to the mining villages, and about to be sold to the miners. What did I have to lose?” She took another bite. “The priestess threatened her demon with the Demon Lord himself, and the Demon Lord owned demon fire. What do you suppose it means that I, too, can control it as well as I do?”

She’d been nothing more than a slave, and still, she was arrogant enough to believe she’d been spawned by the most powerful demon of them all. While Justice could not deny it was a possibility, he found he did not believe it. Other than that she was violent by nature and could manipulate fire, her talents were not so extraordinary. She had not yet recovered them either. If she had, she would have tried to kill him. His disdain for her increased. She could not possibly hope to control the demon she raised forever. Sooner or later it would escape and turn on her.

But she alone knew for certain what had happened in that burned village, and could attribute the blame for it to Raven. If Justice took Willow to the Temple of Immortal Right and presented her to Siege, other than for the natural demon allure she exuded that the old man claimed all women possessed, she would appear harmless to him. Justice would have her claim it was as he had told Siege—Raven had enslaved the men, forced them to round up the rest of the villagers, and burned them all to death in the goddess’s temple. He would say that Willow had been spared only because she, too, was spawn, and sent by Raven to deliver a message to the assassins.

And because Willow appeared harmless, Siege would not feel the need to call in other Godseekers to question and test her. By the time he realized his mistake it would be too late— Justice would have the support he needed. He did not intend to wander these mountains in search of Raven without sufficient protection. He could see the benefits of using spawn to hunt other spawn. As long as Willow expended her demon energies elsewhere, he could use her to tighten the trap around Raven. Once Raven was captured and the Godseekers saw the extent of the problem, Justice could take over from Siege and have the assassins begin rounding up any others. Those spawn who wished to work for him might see their lives spared, as long as they understood their positions.

He hardly trusted a slave who believed mortals should worship her. If Willow tried to challenge him, or summon another demon against him, he would kill her without hesitation.

…

Blade and Raven waited an extra few hours after the others were gone to depart.

Then they took a trail near the mouth of the small river that fed the lake and walked upstream for a short distance before cutting through the forest.

Several mornings later, as they continued to travel the mountain’s circumference, an oppressive weight in the air suggested they might be close to their destination. Blade first noticed an unintended reluctance to go forward, then an unaccountable heaviness in his legs that had not been present the day before.

Raven’s pretty black curls gleamed in the bright shafts of sunlight streaming through the rocks and trees, red highlights shining like coppery threads interlaced with onyx.

“What do you suppose is on the other side of the boundary?” she asked.

“You would have grown up hearing the same stories I did,” Blade said. The past few nights had been long ones for him, and he was not in the best of moods. He had slept badly for fear he would awaken to find her gone to the demon boundary again, and that this time, he would not be able to follow her.

“But you’ve lived elsewhere and met people from different parts of the world. Were their stories the same?”

“For the most part, yes.”

“Is that why you sing of the sea? Because you believe them?”

“I sing of the sea?” Then, he remembered the song he had used as a signal to her when he returned from the temple. “That. It’s one I learned from an old trader who used to come into my saloon maybe once or twice a year. He said his grandfather used to sing it to him and talk of a sea his grandfather’s grandfather had claimed to have sailed.” It was one of very few songs Blade had learned over the years appropriate to sing to a woman. “I suppose the thought of a sea so vast that huge ships take weeks to sail across it fascinates me as much as it would anyone else who’s only ever seen mountains and deserts.”

“There must be a lot of people on the other side of such a sea if they can build ships capable of sailing it,” Raven said. “Or maybe it’s all a lie, and the world really ends at the goddesses’ boundary. What if we make it through, only to fall off the world’s edge?”

She sought an excuse not to proceed. He would not give her one. If they could not cross, they would have to find shelter on this side of the boundary for the winter. And soon.

“That’s nothing more than an old wives’ tale. The temple has a library filled with books,” Blade said. “Some of those books predate the immortals and contain maps drawn by Old World cartographers. We won’t be falling off any edge because the world is round. The real question is whether or not people still exist on the other side of the boundary.”

She clung stubbornly to her opposition. “Some of the older Godseekers claim demons destroyed the rest of the world, and that’s why the goddesses trapped them in the desert.”

“It’s possible,” he conceded. “It’s also possible the Godseekers encourage the spread of those stories because they want to keep people in goddess territory, and therefore under their control.”

They did not talk for a long time after that.

Late in the morning, they crested a bluff and found a thick, green forest spread below them. Beyond the forest, the world dropped away. A dense mist blanketed the entire horizon.

This, then, was the boundary.

The world truly did end here.

“I didn’t expect it to be quite so…vast,” Raven said.

As she gazed at the layer of mist extending from the base of the mountain to the horizon, dread washed through her. This seemed to be very much like the half-world of the boundary between the demon and the mortal worlds, only this one did not welcome her.

In fact, she felt the opposite.

She did not believe she could cross this. The thought of making the attempt left her physically ill.

Blade crooked an elbow around her neck and drew her head to his shoulder, running his fingers through the back of her hair and tugging on a fistful of curls, sending a shiver of heat to the toes of her boots. The air was milder here, and he had thrown back the hood of his coat.

“The goddesses are gone,” he reminded her. “All that’s left below is a lingering reminder of their existence. The mist can’t harm you.”

Her demon disagreed. The mist was not mortal in origin. It expressed a great deal of reluctance to move forward, sensing danger, but from what, she remained uncertain.

She did not know how to explain this to Blade. There had been distance enough between them the past few days. She did not want to point out to him how much demon she had in her.

“No one has ever gotten through it before,” she said. “What happened to anyone who tried?”

“I know of no one who has,” Blade replied. “Assassins guard the approach to it. Entering it was part of a ritual for Godseekers, and none of them were ever harmed, not even the ones the goddesses rejected. They spoke of a heavy and blinding mist that led them in circles until they were back where they started, nothing more. Having ordinary people afraid to try to cross served their own purposes. If you’re worried and need some time to get used to it, we could wait until tomorrow to try to cross,” he added.

She would not have him believe she had not given this her best effort. And she would not have any immortal, including the goddesses, believe she was afraid.

She pushed away from him and settled the straps of her pack into place. “No. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can be out again. A day will make no difference. We’ll have to spend at least one night inside the boundary regardless, judging by the breadth of it.”

They began to descend, working their way around slides of rock and deeper into the verdant forest, until the first tendrils of mist began to wind around their ankles. The pliant ground beneath their feet disappeared beneath a layer of gray. The scent of rich, rotting earth enfolded them, and Raven’s unease spiked.

“Wait.” Blade stopped her. He set his pack down and rummaged in it until he found a length of rope. He laced it around his hips, then hooked it to her waist, tying the ends in secure knots. “Now, whatever happens, we won’t be separated.”

She could not shake the sensation she was about to step from the mortal world into one unknown and hostile to her, but the reassurance of a physical connection to him bolstered her determination to proceed. There was only one way to find out whether or not she could cross a boundary the goddesses had created, and that was to move forward. If she could not, then they would be forced to turn back.

And she could do so with a clear conscience.

Blade went first.

She followed, one hand gripping the rope between them so it did not drag on the ground. The mist crawled to her knees and then to her waist. She raised her arms higher and higher, reluctant to allow it to come in contact with her bared flesh. Then curiosity won out, and she dipped one finger into the soupy gray mass, only to jerk it back on a sharp, indrawn breath and a hiss of pain.

He turned to her, a question in his eyes. She held up her hand for him to inspect. A painful blister had already formed on the tip of her finger.

“The mist is consecrated,” she said. “I can’t cross the boundary.”

Disbelief, then determination, straightened his lips and narrowed his eyes. He plunged his hands in. When he withdrew them, they were unmarked.

He could cross, while she could not.

The mist crept upward, reaching to Raven’s chest now. An acid dampness had begun to seep between the layers of her clothing.

A muscle jerked in Blade’s jaw. “We go back,” he said. He caught her chin and held her gaze. “But this does not make you a demon.”

She wanted to believe he was right. Doubt, however, had shaken her certainty. She had not expected the boundary to be consecrated, or considered what it might mean for her that it was.

When they turned to retrace their steps, they found that the mountain behind them had vanished. Instead, they faced an immense wall of gray.

The demon in Raven rebelled. She could not hold it back. The rope connecting her to Blade placed him in danger from it, as well. She tore at the rope, too frantic to untie it, attempting instead to sever it with her bare hands. Her palms burned from where the consecrated mist had soaked into the rope’s fibers.

Blade groped for her hands, trying to stop her, but the rope snapped first and she was free. He dove for her, but she dodged out of his reach.

“We stay together,” he said as she backed away from him.

Seconds later, he disappeared from her sight. The mist receded so that it encircled her but no longer touched and burned her. Her steps slowed, and Blade’s shouts cut off abruptly.

A presence prowled nearby. Unease slithered through her. “Blade?”

She called to him softly, uncertain who else it might be. His name bounced back to her, an echo contained within the gray walls of her prison.

A shadow stirred. The demon inside her went silent and still. Danger.

“You should not be here,” the shadow said.

It was a woman’s voice, and Raven spun to face it. The woman was very tall and golden-skinned, with straight, white-blond hair that swept the backs of her knees. She had eyes a luminous shade of blue so deep as to be almost purple. The silver gown she wore fell from her shoulders to her feet, caught at the waist and hips by a broad girdle of gold.

Several more figures were partially visible within the thick mist, but none stepped into the small clearing to join the first. Raven did not need to ask who they were.

“Where am I?” she asked the goddess who had spoken instead.

“You stand in the mortal world, but you’re held within the goddesses’ boundary. You’re demon. You cannot cross.”

“I’m not a demon,” Raven said. “I was born on a mortal world. You have no right to judge me.”

The goddess examined her. “You have demon blood. Therefore, we have the right to judge you here.”

Raven burned with a growing sense of injustice. Restricting the movement of demons was the purpose of the goddesses—she could neither refute that, nor fight against it. She could not cross their boundary and accepted it had been wrong for her to try. Her instincts had warned her. She should have listened to them.

But Raven would not be judged by the goddesses, or anyone else, for circumstances beyond her control. “I’m also a mortal. As such, you have no right to keep me here.”

She prepared to face anger at her defiance of them, but it did not come.

“We’ll permit you to go back to the side of the boundary where you were born,” the goddess said, “if you agree to one condition.”

While Raven did not want to barter for a freedom that was hers by right, she also didn’t believe she should refuse to listen to what they had to say. “I’d like to hear your condition before I agree to anything.”

The goddess looked to the others, who one by one, all nodded. “If you’re truly a mortal, as you claim, we would insist that you protect the goddesses’ chosen from the dangers the demons left behind in the mortal world.”

They meant from spawn.

Raven cradled her burned and stinging palms to her waist. It was never wise to agree to any immortal demand too hastily.

“No,” she said. “I’m not one of your chosen, and I can’t agree to your terms. This is the mortal world’s first chance at freedom since the coming of the immortals. Demon offspring are now a part of this world. They deserve as much protection in it as any other person. They have a right to life, too. I’d offer what help I can give to all mortals or none of them.”

“You’ve made your choice.” The goddess lifted her hand and the wall of mist receded enough so that the mountain where she came from was again visible to Raven. A path had opened up to it, but the boundary itself remained in place and impenetrable to her.

The goddesses vanished. She could hear Blade now, shouting her name.

Raven waded through the gray, dreary dampness toward the mountain, and safety, and the welcoming sound of his voice.

Chapter Sixteen

Patience was a skill Blade had honed over the years. Raven’s sudden disappearance had not been natural and he stayed where he was in the hopes she would be returned to him. If she did not reappear soon, then he would search for her.

And he would not rest until he found her.

He crouched, his crossed arms resting on his knees, and waited. It seemed ironic to him how Godseekers preached that the goddesses preserved all life, yet here in the boundary they had created, birds did not sing. Nothing moved through the spongy, rotted earth beneath Blade’s feet, and not a breath of wind stirred the dense fog enveloping him.

Hunter had once said he believed the immortals were one and the same, and that they served nothing but their own purposes. He’d had no love for any of them, not until he’d met Airie. Blade, on the other hand, had been raised in the Godseeker Mountains and could never seem to shake the beliefs taught to him at an early age. Because of his long-held beliefs that the goddesses were benevolent to the innocent, he had been certain that Raven’s demon blood would be of no significance to them.

He should have listened to her concerns. She had not wanted to enter here. If harm came to her it would be his fault, and he did not think he could bury his guilt as he had in the past and pretend it did not exist.

He had no idea how much time passed before the mist finally parted, only that he had started to lose his considerable, hard-earned patience.

But it was not Raven who appeared to him.

This woman was tall and blonde, with purple eyes, and while not as beautiful as Raven, she was more so than an ordinary woman. Her dress was whisper thin and translucent.

He had seen goddesses in his youth. He knew what she was. The sight of her mesmerized him. Held him in place. And he resented it.

“You’ve brought a demon into our boundary,” she said. Disapproval filled those purple eyes. Disappointment in him rang in her tone. “We would have expected better from one of our own.”

“She’s not a demon,” he said. He tore his eyes from hers, although with difficulty, and searched the mist behind her. “Where is she?”

“Lost.”

Fear for Raven bubbled up, and although he quickly suppressed it, he was not quick enough. The goddess felt it, too.

“No demon can cross,” she said. “But you, on the other hand… You’ve traveled a long distance to find us. You want to start over, to find a new life. You, we’ll let through.”

The mist parted. Far off in the distance, he saw a length of blue sky that rippled and shimmered.

No, he thought. Not sky.

Water. What he saw was the sea. He had dreamed of it for years. He had come here to find it. The temptation was overwhelming.

He stood and took a few steps toward it. And then he remembered Raven and paused, turning back.

His eyes met the goddess’s. “I won’t go without her.”

“Why not? You can’t save her,” the goddess said. “If the Godseekers don’t kill her, then the demons will claim her. You’re going to fail.”

Again, fear for her clawed itself free. He did not want to fail her.

He remembered how Raven had warned him not to show fear in the demon boundary because they would know and use it against him. This goddess tried to do the same. His bigger failure would be in walking away and not trying to save Raven at all.

“I won’t go without her,” he said again.

The mist began to slide back into place, swallowing the patch of blue, but in a tantalizingly slow manner. He could not tear his eyes from it.

“Even if you do manage to save her life, she can never be yours,” the goddess said. “Think of what the future would bring you. Imagine any children you might have together, the potential danger they create. You would never be able to teach them compassion or mercy or how to survive in a mortal world.”

In his head he knew he should not listen to her. This was another of his fears that she had managed to capture. But in his heart, he also knew that while demons used lies to get what they wanted, goddesses spoke truth. Raven deserved a future and he had nothing to offer her.

He glanced at the blue on the far side of the mist, then back to where the Godseeker Mountains should be. Somewhere, Raven was lost in this. She had not abandoned him in the demon boundary, and he would not walk away from her in this one.

Raven’s future was the one that mattered. If she were gone, his would have no meaning. He could not go forward and wonder, for the rest of his life, what had become of her, if he had failed her. He did not look again to the vanishing sea but turned in the direction of the mountain.

“I won’t go without her,” he said, for the third and final time.

The goddess vanished and the mist thinned.

Raven was deeper into the boundary than he would have thought possible, and he had to shout to get her attention. She ran to him, her pack jostling between her shoulders and hampering her stride, but a path cleared for her and she was soon in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, reassuring himself she was safe.

But there was no time to do more than that. The thickening mist crept upward, forcing them to move back or become buried, and he was not willing to take any more risks with her life.

He grasped her hand in his, careful of her singed palm, and guided her over uneven earth, out of the forest and toward the safety of higher ground. They climbed steadily for another half hour until Blade was certain the boundary was well behind them.

He helped remove Raven’s pack and set it alongside his own, amid broken chunks of sandstone and spindly, naked elder bushes, then listened quietly as she told him what the goddess had said to her.

Anger and defiance sparkled in her eyes as she finished. “I won’t be judged by them, and I won’t let them condemn others like me either. It’s not their right. To them, we’re something even less than mortal. We’re nothing.” Her expression grew more determined. “None of us asked to be born. We should be given a chance to prove our value, not discarded as worthless.”

He did not respond right away. With the mountain at his back he gazed across the boundary toward the unattainable horizon. Although the sun battered hot against its surface, the blanket of mist did not dissipate. The wind, despite the deceptive heat of the sun’s rays, held an unmistakable chill that warned days such as this would soon be over for another season. Logically, Blade knew that time had run out and his options were now restricted.

There would be no new life for either one of them in the Old World.

In the eyes of the goddesses Raven was a demon, but if they could not see that she was so much more, then Hunter was right—they might be immortals, but were undeserving of worship or respect.

At the same time, the goddesses were not wrong to maintain their boundary. There were spawn at large in the world more closely resembling their demon fathers than their mortal mothers. More would likely be born.

The goddess who had spoken to him was correct when she said he was not the man to teach compassion or mercy. He had none of those things left in him.

Raven came to stand beside him, placing a hand on the small of his back. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.

“I know of several small mountain villages within a week’s walk of here. We’ll find one that’s abandoned and suitably secure, and we’ll spend the winter there.”

Above them, a hawk tipped its wings and curled around in a circle, tracking some small animal on the ground not too far away. Blade lifted her pack and held it out so she could slip her arms through the straps.

She did not move. “Should we try to find Roam, or Laurel and the others?”

“No.” He was honest with himself. He resented—just a little—that he’d had to give up his dream. He did not have it in him to become involved in the problems of any more people. He should never have interfered in hers in the first place, but for her sake, not his.

He took her wrist, gently because of the burns to her hand, and slid one of the straps up her arm to settle the pack into position between her shoulders. He turned her away from him so that he could secure it, and did not have to look at her face as he spoke. He did not want to see her disappointment in him.

“They’re on their own.”

…

Siege, his trim figure clad head to toe in black, nocked an arrow, drew back on the taut bowstring, then raised and released it in a smooth, practiced movement. The arrowhead embedded into the center of the target from an impressive range.

“What makes you believe the Godseeker assassins are defense enough against spawn that can lure men into demon fire to their deaths?” Siege asked Justice.

Under his orders, Willow had been sequestered in one of the private rooms, away from the men. While the action relieved Justice in that it meant he did not have to keep as close an eye on her, it chafed that Siege had taken it upon himself to exert his authority in such a matter.

They stood at the far end of the courtyard, in the temple’s shooting range, so they could hold this conversation in private. No one would approach them here. It was considered poor manners, as well as dangerous, to disturb an archer’s concentration.

The sun continued to shine in an endless blue sky, and the days remained warm after the recent blizzard, but the air held the unmistakable promise of winter. Time was passing too quickly and with no signs of Raven.

Justice splayed his booted feet and took care with his own aim, refusing to be bested by an old man. He did not rush, but drew the arrow steadily so that his thumb brushed his cheek before he sent it singing into the target. It struck to the left of Siege’s, but close enough to the center to be considered equal.

He lowered his bow. The old man’s question was a fair one. “Surely you aren’t suggesting the goddesses’ defenders can’t resist a demon’s spawn?”

“What I’m suggesting,” Siege said, his gaze both direct and stony, “is that they are men. If you found it difficult to resist your stepdaughter, and you were once a goddess’s favorite, then why would they be any different?”

Justice ignored the jibe, although it rankled. “They know what she is and will be prepared. Willow says Raven tricked those villagers by pretending to be a goddess, and they had no reason not to believe her. They didn’t know that spawn can be female. None of us knew.” Justice reached into his quiver, selecting a second smooth shaft. “Now we do.”

Siege nocked another arrow but held the point steady toward the ground and did not draw. He continued to examine Justice as if searching for fault in his logic. “Why should we accept the word of this Willow when she could be demon spawn, too?”

Justice hid his impatience behind a careful scrutiny of the target. “You spoke with Willow. Did you find anything demon about her beyond a subtle allure—that you said yourself all women possess—which would warrant a testing by fire?”

“No.” Siege frowned and sent his second arrow into the circle next to the first. Although the old man’s aim remained true, Justice noticed his hands had developed an unmistakable shake. “But she has an air about her I don’t like.”

“She has no significant demon traits,” Justice said. “I assure you, Raven does. Willow is trying to warn us that Raven is building an army of demon spawn.”

Siege continued to frown. “But there’s nowhere in the mountains for your stepdaughter to build such an army undetected. The number of spawn here can’t possibly be significant enough to use for such a purpose. It’s far more likely she’s already gone to the desert in search of others.”

“She’s proven herself to be overly confident already by coming so close to the temple,” Justice said. “The desert is the first place she’d expect you to look for her, and that’s precisely where Creed went. What if she isn’t searching for others, but instead, is summoning them to her? Where would be the last place to look for them?”

“The goddess boundary,” Siege said. “They wouldn’t be able to cross it, but the unconsecrated ground above it would make a good gathering place.”

It would. While it had been many years since Justice had been to the boundary himself— and his memories were not fond ones—at some point in their youth, all Godseekers congregated there. It was considered a rite of passage, a baptism of sorts. A young Godseeker, freshly bathed, would strip off all clothing and enter the consecrated mist. If a goddess desired him, he would then be seduced and initiated by her—and gifted with an amulet to warn other immortals that he’d been claimed.

Most of those men had been too young and ignorant to understand that the initiation led them into nothing more than slavery. Sometimes it was years before the goddesses tired of them and found other, younger replacements. Justice, however, had never been replaced. His goddess had been forced from the world by the Demon Lord’s fire while he was still young. That was when his devotion to her had begun a slow shift from passion to loathing and hate.

He drew his arrow too hastily and it spun wide of its mark, tagging the edge of the target and knocking it askew. Angry with the poor shot, he clamped his fingers around the limb of his bow. He had to struggle to keep from cracking it over his knee but would not give Siege the satisfaction of seeing him lose his self-control.

“The advantage is yours,” Justice said. “Best two out of three.”

He adjusted the brace strapped around the heavy linen of his right sleeve and strode across the field to realign the round board. When he returned, he waited in silence until after Siege took his final shot, which was unerring.

Justice had no hope now of winning this match and it irritated him to lose, but he intended to have the assassins he wanted. It was in his best interests to be gracious. He released his last arrow with more precision this time. It nestled amongst the others, not quite as close to the center as Siege’s third shot but respectable nonetheless.

He congratulated the older man on his win. Then, he returned to the business under discussion. “I will need at least ten of your best men,” he said. “I don’t want to risk confronting her with less than that in the event she has found more of her kind.”

Siege inspected the string on his bow. “We’ll wait a few more days before taking any action,” he said. “I sent a runner to request that Godseekers from two nearby villages come here to help determine the best way forward.”

This would never do. In another day, Willow would not be able to hide the demon in her. Already, Siege had noticed she was not precisely what Justice had tried to portray her to be. But he did not dare argue the matter further. Siege was suspicious enough already and not inclined to do favors for Justice at the best of times.

He had to come up with another plan. He wondered how true those rumors of Siege’s weakening heart might be.

…

That night, buttressed against a rock wall and sheltered from the wind, Raven helped Blade unroll their bedding beneath a blanket of stars. Wolven could be heard not too far off, signaling back and forth to each other through a series of yips and howls that rang off the cliffs. Blade had said he did not want to be enclosed inside a flimsy shelter.

She sat next to him on a fallen log across from their small fire. He had one leg extended so that the sole of his boot faced the flames, steam curling from the damp leather. The other leg was bent, and he had one of his wrists resting on his knee. A skinned rabbit cooked on a spit between them, the smell making her conscious of how hungry she was.

His thoughts were engaged elsewhere. She folded her legs beneath her to ward off the chill night draft and drew her coat tighter around her shoulders, playing idly with one of its buttons. She did not press him to talk, but allowed him to puzzle through whatever it was on his own. She, too, had thoughts that kept her occupied.

She did not want him to regret staying the winter with her and would try to be as little trouble to him as possible. But that did not mean she intended to renege on her promise to the goddesses. Bad things were happening in the world, and while she might not be to blame for instigating them, to sit back and do nothing now, knowing the potential dangers some half demons posed, increased her culpability for them.

And if he did not want to be involved in any of it, he would not. Come spring, if she could not change his mind, she would be forced to let him go. The possibility left her breathless and threw her demon into fits of rebellion.

Blade spoke, breaking the silence.

He hunched forward on the fallen log, his forearms on his thighs, hands loosely clasped between his knees. He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers. He reached out and took one of her curls and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, but he did not let his hand touch her face.

“This amulet I’m wearing was your mother’s,” he said. “You should have it back.” He slipped it off and tried to pass it to her.

She did not take it from him. Instead, she cupped his hand in both of hers and folded his fingers closed around it. Then she kissed the heel of his palm. “As long as you’re with me, you’re in danger from demons,” she said. “I want you to wear this and be safe.”

He looked as if he had something more to say but changed his mind with a shake of his head. He stared at the amulet in his hand for a long time. Then, he replaced the chain around his neck.

“I don’t think you understand the value of the gift,” he said.

She did not want to think about that. “I don’t want anyone else to wear it. It’s yours now.”

He leaned closer to press his lips to her forehead. “You have no idea how much I wish things were different for us.”

She curled her fists in the front of his coat and drew him to her so that she could feather kisses along the length of his jaw, then his throat to his open collar where the amulet nestled.

“Thank you,” she said.

He did not move away, but watched her with a quiet hunger that caught her breath. “For what?”

“For making me feel desirable and not something to be afraid of or repulsed by.” She kissed his lips, very gently. “No one else has ever made me feel that way. I wish things were different, too. If they were I would go after what I want, and I wouldn’t worry about what is best for either of us. Because what I want is you.”

The craving in his eyes did not dissipate, but he turned back to the fire and their now-burning dinner.

“You’re too quick to want,” he said. “The dangers are greater than you think.”

She knew that physical danger from the outside world did not trouble him. It was the threat she posed to his peace of mind that had him draw away from her. He had learned to care for very little else in his life so that its loss would not matter so much.

She might be too quick, but he was too cautious. Blade wanted to be with her. For some reason he would not explain, he refused to acknowledge it. He should seize what the present offered him because this was what shaped the future—the present. Not the past.

To her, the future was filled with light, not darkness. And right now, in the present, they were together.

…

The sound of water crashing against a shore awoke Blade from a dream.

No. He frowned. It was not a dream but a place. He could smell the air and feel the wind. The sky above was a deep, animated red, filtered through a gentle blue-green light that gave it a distinct purple cast. A vast and seemingly endless expanse of water stretched as far as he could see. White-capped waves crested, curled, and broke against a beach of aqua sand.

Raven approached him, a greeting in her luminous blue eyes. A sheer, white gown bared the golden skin of her arms and throat and twisted around her hips and thighs as she moved, revealing far more than it hid. The odd lighting of the sky caught the coppery-red streaks in her black hair so that they flared like strips of heated metal.

Possessiveness seized him.

She stretched out her fingers to rest on his arm, her touch warm and real.

“How did you manage this?” He swept a hand around them, torn between watching the beauty of her face and staring at the undulating sea.

“I didn’t. This came from your thoughts, not mine.” She lifted his amulet and held it in her palm as she gazed up at him. “This is what my mother spoke of, why there was no fear in her when she did. It’s another tiny piece of the boundary. Only an immortal she welcomed could come here.”

He had not known such thoughts dwelled in him. He had never seen the sea before but had read of it, a long time ago, and except for the boundary sky, this was indeed how he would envision it.

And how he envisioned Raven—so beautiful, it made his chest ache with longing.

But this place was induced by a demon’s amulet, therefore unnatural, and he did not trust it. He did not care that it picked so easily through his intimate thoughts. They had been pillaged enough for one day.

He took her hand in one of his, the other hovering near a knife tucked in his trousers as he scanned the area around them, unable to believe there was no danger to either of them here. The mortal world held dangers too, but at least in a way he understood and could deal with.

“This place is for demons,” he said.

She stepped into the crook of his arm, drawing it around her so that she was pressed tight against him. The fresh, clean scent of her skin and hair filled his lungs and all he could think of was her.

“Not all demons. Only those you wish to be here. For once,” she said, “can’t you allow yourself to indulge in what you desire without worrying about what might or might not happen if you do?”

He could think of nothing he would like to do more, yet still, he hesitated.

Her eyes softening, she stood on her toes and tipped her head to kiss the underside of his jaw. “We walk here together, Blade.”

He no longer doubted that the amulet he wore was meant for him, that it was more than just a “trinket.” And that he belonged to her. It would not work for them in this way, as it had for her parents, otherwise. It had been crafted by a demon for the woman it claimed, and she had accepted it. Their daughter had given it to him. The possibility that Raven had not yet realized the implications of it was what filled him with a terror unlike anything he had ever known. She could do so much better than him. She did not have to be with him forever.

But right now, she was.

He slid his palms up the length of her arms, entranced by the feel of her smooth, warm skin, delicate and feminine. She trembled beneath his touch, her eyelids drooping so that sooty lashes brushed her cheeks. Her hands came to rest on his bare torso.

He discovered he was naked. He hooked his fingers beneath the fabric of her dress and eased it off her shoulders so that it pooled on the sand at her dainty toes. He stroked a knuckle from her neck to the tip of one rosy-tipped breast, then followed its path with his mouth. He drew her nipple into his mouth, licking the taut crescent. With a soft cry of pleasure she took his head in her hands and buried her fingers in his hair, arching against him. He gathered her close, his hands on her bare hips, so her stomach stroked his erection. She took him in her fingers, sliding them gently up and down his sensitive shaft until he groaned out loud with need. She pressed her lips to his chest, trailing kisses to his navel, then lower. She faltered, looked at him with a question in her eyes, and he cupped her chin in his palm.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said.

She smiled at him, holding his gaze, and the tip of her pink tongue flitted out to touch him. His erection jerked in response.

“I do,” she said, and ran her tongue the length of him. She licked the drop of fluid on his tip and closed her eyes as she drew him into her mouth.

Blade held her head in his hands, trying hard to maintain control as she explored the taste and feel of him, until he could stand it no longer. He bent forward, nudging her gently so that she lay on her back in the warm sand while he rested on his palms above her.

Her blue eyes were glowing, filled with that beautiful diamond fire. Her skin glistened in the light, and he dragged one palm over her breast, along her flat stomach, until he reached the soft mound of hair between her thighs. With one finger, he stroked the slickened flesh beneath it until she cried out for him, her back arching and her hands grasping eagerly at his hips, trying to draw him to her.

He guided his erection to her opening, and with a single thrust, they were joined. Her hips rose and fell, urging him deeper and faster.

“Please, Blade.”

The expression of desire in her glowing eyes as she watched him move inside her brought him very close to the edge. He wanted to see her face when she came. Tiny ripples began, building in intensity as she tightened around him, making him shudder in anticipation. She wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out with pleasure, the spasms of her inner warmth impossible for him to resist. He groaned as he came with her.

The sounds of the sea’s waves and their heavy breathing slowly eased into his awareness. Blade ran a finger along her ribs to her thigh, making her laugh and squirm beneath him, and he tried to recall if he had ever been as happy as he was when he was with her.

She was right. He should enjoy these moments without worrying over what the future might bring. He nuzzled her hair aside and kissed the soft curve of her neck. Whether or not she chose to be his, he would always be hers. He would do his best to be worthy of her for as long as she needed him. And when she did not, he’d remember that even the goddesses believed he was unworthy of her and be man enough to walk away.

Chapter Seventeen

Justice approached Siege shortly before breakfast, when daylight had not yet made its appearance.

“There’s something you need to see,” he said.

Siege propped the six-foot staff he’d been wielding against the wall of the indoor training room. He had stripped to the waist, revealing the countless battle scars on his chest, back, and shoulders. A fine sheen of sweat dampened his leathered skin. He had very little in terms of extra weight.

Too thin, Justice decided. But still dangerous.

“What is it?” The assassin leader’s sharp tone indicated he was not pleased with the interruption to his morning exercise.

But Justice had purposely timed it to coincide with the end of the session, ensuring Siege would be tired. “One of your younger recruits left through the posterns a short while ago. He had the goddess with him. I thought you might not want anyone else to know of it.”

“Why can no one in this place keep track of the whereabouts of its residents anymore?” Siege said, but to himself, not expecting any answer. He scowled as he slid his shirt over his head, then glared at Justice. “I blame you for bringing a woman here. You’re the one who should be punished. Since I can’t do that, it will have to be the one who was too weak to resist her. He’ll need to be whipped.” Siege started for the door. “We’ll find them, and when we do, I want her locked up and under triple guard.”

He stopped at the guardhouse and summoned the young attendant to him.

“Did you see anyone leave here this morning?” Siege asked.

The guard looked uneasy. He did not meet his eyes. “Two,” he said. “A man and a woman.”

Justice was glad he had thought to have Willow approach one of the recruits and lure him away with her rather than simply invent the tale. Siege trusted him even less than he had suspected.

“Discuss this with no one,” Siege said to the guard. “No one else enters or leaves here again today unless it’s approved by me. Do you understand me?”

The guard swallowed, then nodded. The old man had a reputation for little patience with failure.

They trudged across a landscape scraped almost bare of the remnants of the first snowfall. The trail grew increasingly difficult to follow but not impossible. Willow had obeyed his instructions, and every so often, left a clear and obvious footprint.

Justice knew it was the promise of bloodshed, and not any sense of allegiance, that motivated her to obey him. Siege had been correct in his assessment of her. He wondered how the young assassin recruit would fare against her.

He also wondered if she would follow through with his plan. So far, she had done as he instructed.

It took them almost half an hour to reach the clearing, a small area off the main mountain road, where he had told Willow to wait. By the time they reached it Siege was having difficulty maintaining the pace Justice had set, the old man’s breath coming in high whistles, but he remained too stubborn to ask for a rest.

They discovered the recruit, already dead. Willow was nowhere to be seen.

Siege knelt by the wide-eyed, partially clothed body and felt for a pulse. The grim set of his mouth suggested he did not find one. His chest rose and fell as if he had difficulty containing his anger.

“You are responsible for this,” he said to Justice, his voice crackling.

“How?” Justice demanded. “One of your young men comes out here alone with a woman, who by your own orders was supposed to remain in confinement, and this is my fault?”

The old man stood, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “She’s more dangerous than you led me to believe.”

Justice caught a glimpse of calico in the gambel oak circling the clearing. “You have no idea how dangerous she really can be,” he said.

She came out of hiding, blue fire leaping from her hands. Fury twisted Siege’s face, then understanding. He did not react as Justice anticipated, but went for Justice’s throat.

The attack surprised Justice, and he stumbled on a slick patch of frozen grass. The knife Siege had slipped from one sleeve narrowly missed his jugular, catching the edge of his ear instead. If the old man had not already been tired, and restricted by a bad heart, Justice knew he would be dead now. It angered him to think that an old man, no matter how skilled, had very nearly bested him, and that the danger from him had not yet passed.

Morning light glinted off the serrated knife still steady in Siege’s gnarled fingers. “I may die today,” Siege said, “but I won’t die alone.”

The old man had his back to Willow. Past him, Justice watched her twist the flames into a tight ball. She threw it so that it slammed between Siege’s shoulders, and he burst into fire, immolating from head to toe. The knife dropped from his hand, and within seconds, all that remained was a smoking pile of ash and charred bone.

“We don’t have much time,” Justice said to Willow. “Get rid of the other one, too.”

The story he intended to spin was that Willow and the young assassin had been ambushed by Raven and her companion, and the youth had been killed, along with Siege, protecting Willow and Justice.

No one at the temple would dare question the word of a Godseeker. And by the time they brought in someone who would, Justice would have his ten assassins and be well on his way.

…

The village where Blade led them had been a flourishing mining town in his youth. Now its three mine shafts, visible past the rows of sagging houses, gaped like blackened eyes. No one had taken the time to board them over. No warning signs had been posted that Blade could see either, so he didn’t know if the mines were dangerous or simply no longer workable.

He did not know what he felt in this moment. When he had left the mountains he’d never expected to return here. All these towns and villages had lived in his memories, frozen in time. He had not been prepared for reality.

The town where he’d been raised was situated no more than a day’s walk to the south. Would his hometown be long gone as well? Did it matter to him since he had not left it on good terms?

Raven slipped her fingers into his and gave them a tight squeeze as if she understood how difficult this was for him. No doubt she did. She understood him better than he did himself.

“Remember that these towns come and go,” she said. “I’m sure all these people are happily settled in new lives already. Some may even be in Goldrush.”

Had his initial reaction been concern for the former residents, as she seemed to think? Was that what caused this gnawing pain beneath his ribs? Or was he simply caught off guard by the discovery that a childhood that had obsessed his memories was most likely gone forever?

He ran the pad of his thumb across the palm of her hand. Normally, he would have preferred to face the past on his own. Now, he could not express how grateful he was to have her with him. But it was the present that should concern him the most.

“Hopefully, one of these houses will be fit to live in or can at least be repaired quickly.” He looked at the sky. It had gone a dark, gunmetal gray, its swollen belly hanging so low it seemed almost to sweep the ground. Flakes of snow darted across the empty space between where they stood and a few ramshackle outbuildings. “When the weather shifts, I’ll see about getting supplies for the winter.”

When they explored the village further they discovered that while the mines had been left open to the elements, the houses had been neatly secured for the most part. Blade pried wood planks off the door of one vacant house that looked solid.

“Wait here,” he said to Raven.

The door hinges shrieked as he pushed against the weathered paneling and entered. The one-level house was not a large one. The main room served as a combined cooking, living, and sleeping area. Two smaller ones at the back were used for storage. A drain in the floor of one room indicated it was also used for laundry and bathing.

Blade’s skin prickled. The house felt as if it had not been empty long, but there were no signs of recent occupation. When he examined the hand pump at the small sink in the cooking area, the pump was unprimed. Beneath the sink, a dusty pan, which would have once held water for priming the pump, was dry, with a white residue crusting it as if the contents had evaporated over a long period of time. There were no footprints on the plain wooden floor other than his, and the bunks along the walls were stripped, empty, and coated in dust.

He rubbed the back of his neck. His instincts were good. Why did a house that did not look as if it had been occupied for some time, make him feel as if someone had recently been in it?

Because he smelled fresh-cut wood.

“Blade! Is everything all right?” he heard Raven call out, distracting him. She did not sound panicked, but an edge to her voice had him moving at once to the door.

She waited for him as he stepped into the biting wind. He saw no anxiety on her face, and nothing around her to suggest she had any cause for concern, yet he knew something had made her cautious.

“Behind me, to my right,” she said quietly.

He saw it at once. A shadow pressed against the side of a building where there should not be one.

That was why the house had not felt empty. A spawn was moving in shadow through the village. He moved closer to Raven and bent his head at an angle so his lips could not be seen. “Did you sense anything familiar about whoever it is? Were you able to tell if it’s Laurel or one of her men?”

“No.”

He debated what to do, not wanting Raven in danger, but she was not delicate, and she would not be caught by surprise. He had to start trusting her to look out for herself since someday she would need to.

“We’ll get closer then.” He moved his head so that his mouth was no longer obscured from the spawn’s view, and his lips could be read. “This house has potential,” he said without raising his voice, “but I want to check a few more first. Let’s look at these ones over here before making a decision.”

He crossed what had once been a street, but was now overgrown by weeds and lanky brush, to a forlorn house with a sagging roof next to the false shadow.

Raven caught his hand. “It’s one of Laurel’s companions,” she said. “He’s afraid of you. Laurel and the others aren’t too far away.”

Blade raised his voice. “We know you’re there, and who you are,” he said. “You may as well show yourself.”

Raven’s eyes reproached him. He had not sounded as welcoming as she thought he should be, but he did not feel welcoming, and he shrugged his shoulders.

Nothing happened for a long moment. Then, the shadow gained substance and materialized into the youngest of Laurel’s companions, the one who had been so taken with Raven. His clothes were caked in dirt and covered in shavings, as if he’d been cutting kindling, and he appeared exhausted.

Blade searched his memory for a name and could not find one.

Raven had not been as remiss. “Hello, Walker.” The smile she gave him was bright and friendly.

Blade did not miss the effect that smile had on the other man. It dazzled him so that his response to her greeting was incoherent. His expression when he looked at her, however, was not difficult for Blade to read.

Raven’s eyes dropped, her smile fading to uncertainty as she read it too, and she glanced uneasily at Blade as she picked up on his irritation. While she was used to the thoughts men had about her, he was not, and she worried over his reaction. He rested a hand on Raven’s shoulder and moved between her and Walker, sending a clear message of protection.

Walker eyed him warily. “We were here first.”

“There’s no reason we can’t all stay here,” Raven said. “The houses seem solid enough, and we can’t wander the mountains forever.” She looked at Blade. “Right?”

He faced a conundrum. He did not want to be responsible for the others. Neither did he wish to share Raven with them. He would only have her for a few short months, and if she had others to occupy her attention, she would soon discover that he was not the best choice.

And yet there was safety in numbers, and these people had skills that could prove valuable. They were not interested in establishing or defending their rights in the world, only in avoiding detection and being left in peace. But he did not believe they could defend themselves, or Raven, if they were discovered.

“Go get the others,” he said to Walker. “We need to talk.”

…

The problem, if any, was going to be Blade. They all had to work together, and he made it plain he did not wish to do so. He had not been the same toward her since they left the goddess boundary. Something had happened that he wasn’t telling her, and it made her uneasy.

But somehow, Raven had to convince Laurel to trust him, to prove that he meant them no harm. It was difficult to do, though, with him glowering at them all.

They were gathered as a group in the house that Raven and Blade had chosen. He had cleaned out the chimney and lit a fire in the hearth so that the main room was warm, and she had tidied it as best she could.

She could tell the house had once been lovely. The previous owners had invested considerable time and effort in the finer details, from the oak wainscoting and hand-carved cupboards, to the pretty, pale paint on the walls. A fireplace and indoor water pump were luxuries Raven had sorely missed. When she had more time, soap and water would do wonders. Until then, she was content simply to sleep indoors.

Blade had selected a plain wooden chair by the door and sat silently in it. The other men remained equally uncommunicative, allowing Laurel to speak for them.

“We’ll have to scavenge what we need,” Laurel said. “The men and I can get in and out of villages unobserved. But I’d hate to steal from neighbors and draw attention to us.”

“If we have to steal to survive, then that’s what we’ll do,” Blade said. “We won’t take any more than we need and never too much from any one place. We’re not going to take from people who might go hungry because of theft.”

“If we all work together, we’ll make it through the winter,” Raven said. “There are only six of us. No one will miss what we take if we’re careful. In the spring, maybe we can repay them somehow.”

“How would we do that?” one of the men asked. “More importantly, why would we want to? What have the people in the Godseeker Mountains ever done for spawn?” He sounded tired and bitter, and Raven couldn’t blame him. No one had stepped up to help her when she’d needed it most, either. Except for Blade.

He was not helping her now, however.

“We aren’t going to prove anyone right about us,” Raven said. “We’re going to live our lives the way we know we should. The goddesses may not favor us, but we don’t need their guidance. Decency isn’t something that only they can teach.” She spoke to Blade. “What if the mines are still workable, but on a smaller scale? Would it be worth our while to settle here for a few years, perhaps even permanently? It’s not as if we have anywhere else to go. We can’t run forever.”

“Four men can’t work these mines,” Blade said.

Raven was not deterred by his pessimism. “Roam could bring more,” she reminded him.

“The Temple of Immortal Right is in our backyard,” Blade said. “This isn’t a place where more than a few spawn can live in peace for any length of time. Remaining here undetected for the winter is going to be difficult enough for the six of us, and even then it’s unlikely.”

“We can’t go undetected forever no matter where we are,” Raven said. “It’s inevitable that people like us will begin to band together. What we need are neighbors who’ll become allies.”

“Allies, here?” the third man said. He settled back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “I don’t believe it’s possible.”

At least the men had all found something they could agree on, because none of them thought it likely. Even Laurel appeared skeptical, so Raven did not pursue it.

That did not mean she had given up. If people with demon blood wished to survive in the mortal world, they would have to learn to live peacefully with everyone else. She had said she would offer help to all mortals who needed it, half demon and non-demon alike, and she meant to keep her word.

She could do nothing about her own demon blood. She could, however, do what she knew to be right and encourage others to do the same.

…

The death of their leader was a shock to the temple’s residents even though he was an old man. They were suspicious as to the manner in which it transpired.

And this meeting with Siege’s replacement was not going as Justice had planned. The second-in-command was not so young as to be unseasoned, and not old enough to remember the extent to which Godseekers should be respected. He also appeared to be well informed as to the regard Siege had held for Justice. His manner was not as deferential as Justice would have liked, particularly from someone so inferior to him.

They sat in the library, Justice in front of the heavy desk, while the young assassin named Armor occupied Siege’s chair as if already accustomed to it. It seemed Siege had prepared for all eventualities, even down to choosing his own replacement, and he trained his men well.

The young man had pale, lashless eyes that rarely blinked and thin hair so colorless it gave an illusion of transparency.

“We’re supposed to take the word of a woman with no known origin for what happened to two of our men,” Armor said to Justice. “One of whom was our leader.”

“No,” Justice replied. “I expect you to take my word, not hers.” He was not used to being questioned, particularly by someone so young and inexperienced, and it irritated him almost as much as Siege’s opposition had. At least he and Siege had held a similar standing.

This boy was nobody.

Armor’s polite attitude gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. “I’m sure your word is good. However, Siege issued a request for neighboring Godseekers, ones I know very well, to come here and help plan a course of action, and I don’t intend to countermand that. We’ll wait for their input on the circumstances surrounding Siege’s death, too.”

“While you wait, the spawn responsible for the deaths of two trained assassins will escape.” Justice met the arrogant youth’s pale eyes with a cold stare of his own. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go after my stepdaughter myself. When I return, you can answer to the Godseekers for your lack of support.”

Armor frowned, and Justice knew he had won this first confrontation.

The acquiescence was grudging. “I’ll give you four men.”

Four was not the number Justice had requested, but it would have to do. Someday, this disrespectful young nobody would answer for opposing him.

“Very well,” Justice said. “I have several in mind. I’ll speak with them now.”

He started to rise, but the assassin waved him back, so he reclaimed his seat. He swung one knee over the other with ill-contained impatience and regarded the toe of his boot, waiting for more unwelcome news.

“There’s no need for you to speak with anyone,” Armor said. “I’ll choose your companions for you. There’s one more small matter, however.” He steepled his fingers. “The woman stays here.”

“To create more trouble among the men than we had this morning?” Justice asked. “No. I don’t think that’s wise.”

Armor dropped his hands to rest on the desk’s gleaming surface. All of Siege’s books and mounds of papers had been removed sometime between midmorning and the dinner hour, leaving it stripped bare of any telltale indicators as to the new owner’s personality.

Suddenly uneasy, Justice wondered if this young nobody might prove even more dangerous than his aged mentor.

“You think it’s wiser to send a beautiful woman who may or may not be spawn into the mountains with five men? Particularly when two men have died in her presence already today?” The young assassin leader leaned forward, his thin lips pressed in a flat, implacable line that made Justice’s blood turn to ice in his veins. “No. She stays here.”

Justice was left with few options. To take Willow with him now meant he would have no other allies. So did he want her with him, or did he want four trained assassins?

Four trained assassins were no match for a spawn who could summon a demon. His choice was Willow.

“I promised her safety,” Justice said. “Therefore, she stays with me, and under my protection. If you won’t send the four assassins with us, I’ll understand. I hope the other Godseekers will too, when they hear of this.”

He nodded to the young assassin, rose, then left the library to prepare for the journey deeper into the mountains.

To the boundary.

…

He and Willow passed through the gates early the following morning, their departure unremarked upon. No one saw them off or wished them well.

Justice had saddled two hross, both his and Cage’s, but Willow rode with him because he did not trust her. The other animal, he loaded with provisions.

He had debated for hours as to what was best to do after his meeting with the temple’s new leader. Justice had no desire to face Raven and her assassin without adequate support, but he had accepted that direct confrontation with Siege’s handpicked successor would not go as he wished. Assassins took orders from their leader without question.

Their leader, on the other hand, took orders from Godseekers, and that meant from Justice.

The more he thought about the defiance he’d faced, the more resolved he became. He would have the young nobody replaced once his incompetence was established.

Justice had discovered which route the messenger sent to the other villages had taken and when he was expected to return. He would intercept him and the Godseekers, and convince them to travel to the boundary with him. There was a general uneasiness permeating the temple, and although not unusual considering their long-time leader—whose reputation was almost as fearsome as a demon’s—had been murdered, if questioned, he would use it to infer the young man’s inability to lead.

Justice and Willow met up with the two Godseekers and the assassin messenger in the early afternoon. The three men traveled on foot but maintained a steady pace as they navigated the secret mountain path that led to the temple. Strewn with crumbled rock falls and partially overgrown in places by mountain scrub, the path was rough. One needed to know the actual route in order to find it.

Justice recognized one of the Godseekers. The man had a bald head and a large belly, and his name, if Justice recalled it correctly, was Seeker. He maintained a zealous belief in his right to speak on behalf of the goddesses and as a seeker of signs of their return, hence his name. Although never a goddess’s favorite himself, Seeker staunchly supported their elevated position within the Godseeker ranks. Under ordinary circumstances Justice would unlikely have deigned to speak to him.

Today he nodded to him while tipping his hat in greeting to all three men. He thought Seeker in particular would welcome an opportunity to visit the boundary again, which would have been forbidden to him after initiation.

Seeker’s eyes, animated and curious, skated past Justice to Willow, seated on the hross behind him. The cape she wore concealed much of her face and draped around her legs so that she was protected from scrutiny.

She shifted in the saddle, repositioning her knees, her impatience with the discussion clearly commuted to Justice. He, too, was anxious to get moving. He had no idea what she might do once she regained her demon strength, but he doubted it would be good. All that kept her with him was the opportunity to kill without fear of retribution.

Once that fear was gone, so was she.

“We heard rumors there are spawn in the mountains,” Seeker said. “Female spawn.”

Justice rested his arms on his saddle’s pommel. “They aren’t rumors. Siege has been murdered by them, and I intend to find the ones responsible and hold them accountable.” He related the same story he’d told at the temple.

The assassin messenger, whose name was Gauntlet, said nothing at the end of the recitation, but Justice knew he was weighing all he heard, searching for the truth in it. He would be loyal to Siege and Siege’s young successor, and therefore bear watching.

“You would confront them alone, after being attacked by them?” Seeker asked. “Why weren’t assassins sent against them? This is what they’re trained for, isn’t it?”

“The new leader is young and uncertain of his role.” The hross sidestepped, forcing Justice to bring it under control. It did not like having a spawn on its back. “The temple is chaotic at the moment. He has his hands full and waits for guidance from you. In the meantime, the spawn and her companion escape. What choice do I have but to go after them?” Justice asked. “The spawn is my stepdaughter and my responsibility. I can’t let this go unanswered. Siege died for me.”

“How can you be certain you’re traveling in the right direction?”

“Siege seemed convinced they would head to the boundary. I know her and how bold she is, and I think he was right.”

The second Godseeker spoke. “And the woman with you?”

“Siege met with her and found no signs of demon in her. My stepdaughter, on the other hand, is undeniably demon. She can raise them and used one to burn the entire population of one village to death. I saw the devastation with my own eyes. She enslaves men and controls them, and has a former assassin by the name of Blade with her.”

The Godseekers traded looks of disbelief intermingled with caution. Good. They had heard of him, then.

“Blade left these mountains at least ten years ago. From what we heard, he became crippled after trying to cross through demon territory without protection,” Seeker said.

Justice had not heard that particular story, but he knew it could not be accurate. “The man with her limps but is no cripple.”

“This could be a different man.”

“Big. Long black hair. Narrow face. Dark eyes. Looks like he could kill his own grandmother in her sleep, then eat a full breakfast.”

The second Godseeker smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth. “That description could match half the men from here to the Borderlands.”

Justice pinned him with an unfriendly stare. “He also carried an unusual number of knives concealed in his clothing. You couldn’t see them, but you could tell by the way he moved and how he held his hands, if you knew what to look for.”

“If it’s true, and that’s who he is, then it’s foolish for you to go on with no one to protect you,” Seeker interrupted. “The priority right now is to stop this spawn and the rebel assassin with her, regardless of who he is, from murdering more innocent people.” He turned to his companions and addressed the assassin. “Gauntlet, you and I will go with Justice. Crevice can go on to the temple alone and lend guidance to Siege’s replacement. Once the situation has been brought under control, have Armor send reinforcements.”

Gauntlet made no protest, but took the second hross’s lead and helped Seeker mount.

While Justice had wanted all three men with him, two were enough for now. He would soon have his numbers.

And Armor would learn who was truly in charge.

Chapter Eighteen

Raven was not yet used to the sounds of her new home—the sighs and groans it made as the building settled, and the scratching of the mice that had been dislodged from their nests during cleaning. It kept her on edge and alert. When she did finally drift off to sleep, it was with Blade’s arm around her to ward off any ventures into the demon boundary without him.

So, when her father summoned her, she faced a dilemma. She did not want Blade to know of it, let alone come with her. He had become distant with her of late, and he didn’t understand this connection she had to her demon father. It was not something she wanted, but it existed and she couldn’t ignore it. Her father was far stronger than she.

She eased from beneath Blade’s arm and out of bed. Clad only in one of his shirts and a thick pair of woolen stockings, she allowed her father to draw her into the demon boundary.

At once its heat embraced her. Flutters of warm air curled around her bare legs and tugged at the hem of the shirt she wore. She faced her father at the side of the molten lake, with lightning ripping the sky, as she had the first time he’d approached her. This was his place in the boundary and he had again chosen mortal form to speak with her here.

“A female spawn summons demons into your world,” he said. “She follows you. Do you want to know why?”

Not enough to be indebted to him for an answer, so she evaded his question. “Why do you care if she does?”

“Perhaps you don’t want to know why she follows you, then,” he said, his eyes cold. “But do you want to know with whom she travels?”

Justice. It could be no one else or her father would not care. Raven’s heart gave a small flutter. Did the Godseeker hate her so much that he would use a half demon who possessed demon morals—that is to say, none at all—to hunt her down? Or was his contempt so high that he thought he could control any woman?

She forced herself to concentrate on where she was and who she was with—and what he wanted from her, because her father’s pupils had dilated in reaction to her tiny spike of alarm. On the outside, in mortal form, he seemed so beautiful that it was too easy to overlook what he was. Inside him, however, there dwelled a vast chasm of darkness.

He did not want to help her. He felt no attachment to her and no love for her. He had never loved her mother either. Not in the way a mortal longed to be loved, and that was why her mother had turned from him. In the end, his demon allure had not been enough to hold her.

Understanding crashed through Raven with the force of the thunder that shook the earth beneath her. An ability to love another, deeply and without expectation, was one more reason the immortals envied a mortal existence. To love another selflessly was an ability they did not possess. He did not want Justice so he could save Raven or avenge her mother. It was as Blade had tried to tell her and she had known. Her demon father thought only of his own gain, and she did not know for certain what that might be.

When she killed Justice she would do so by mortal means and for her own purpose, without help from any demon. Because that was what would carry her over that precipice into darkness and make her the demon her father wished her to be. Her mortality—and humanity—would be swallowed by that same blackness he had inside him and never reemerge.

“I won’t kill for you,” she said. “And I’ll never hand you a mortal.”

He smiled at her with such radiance, and yet so much emptiness, that it chilled her. “I think you will. I’ll give you this much for free,” he said. “Someday soon you’ll need me. You’ll have no choice but to summon me because the Godseekers are sending assassins after you, and you, little demon, don’t want to die.” His smile faded and became cruel. “You don’t want the mortal who wears my amulet to die either. My price, in exchange, will be either your life or the Godseeker’s. The choice of payment is yours.” He tapped a finger to her cheek, and it was all she could do not to shudder. “Remember me in your prayers.”

Then she was back in the main room of her new house, with Blade asleep in the bed in one corner.

No. She did not want him to die.

For a long time, she watched him as he slept. Her desire for him never failed to astonish her, striking sharp and hot and at the oddest of moments. But it was not a sexual desire that filled her with this longing for him that could not seem to be sated or set aside. Nor was it a response to him by her demon.

She loved him. That was an entirely mortal emotion, and although more quiet in nature, also far stronger and deeper than anything her father had felt for her mother. She could not imagine life without Blade, but she did not want to be the cause of his unhappiness any more than his death.

And he was not happy here.

Despite her feelings, all her love and desire, she was not enough for him. He wanted more, but she did not know what it was, only that it was something she could not give him.

Raven got back into bed and slid beneath his arm. His cheek pressed into her hair, his breathing steady. A chunk of firewood popped in the hearth, and the firelight cast a faint, cheerful light across the semi-dark room. Icy pellets of snow tapped at the black windows.

She had a solid roof over her head, food to eat, and the bed beneath her was a luxury she had almost forgotten. And yet she could not help but feel that disaster lurked in every shadowy corner. She did not see how she could ever be free of her father. And she was afraid that at some point he would get whatever it was that he wanted, because for Blade, she would give him everything.

“What did he say to you?” Blade asked, startling her so that her breath froze.

She rolled to her side to face him, sliding one bent elbow beneath her head. He smelled like crushed soap root, fresh and clean.

“I thought you were sleeping,” she said.

“I thought the same about you.” He lifted a lock of her hair and twisted the curl around one finger, then gave it a gentle tug. “So what did he want?”

“He says Justice and the demon woman are following me and that the Godseekers are sending assassins after me. If I ask him for help against them, he expects payment. He wants either Justice or me.” She turned to Blade. “No matter what happens, remember your promise not to let him have me.”

The eaves sighed. Other than that, the night remained silent. He did not answer her, but she had no need of one. Blade would do what was necessary.

“Do you ever pray?” she asked. “Without thinking about it or really meaning to? Maybe just a wish—but a heartfelt one?”

“I suppose I do. I’d imagine everyone does.”

“Do you know who answers mine?”

Blade’s response was typical of him. Blunt and practical. “If he does, then you should pray for him to leave you alone forever.”

“He’ll never leave me alone,” she said.

“Exactly.” Blade rolled closer and placed his broad palm on her stomach, the weight of it heavy and reassuring. “He picks up on prayers and wishes that are highly emotional. Of those, he responds to the ones he believes he can exploit. That’s not fulfilling prayers.” He paused. “Wishing for something doesn’t mean you should have it, and saying something doesn’t necessarily make it true. He’s doing nothing for you that he doesn’t want, too. He can demand payment from you all he likes but it doesn’t mean you owe him anything.”

“I’m half demon,” Raven said. “He’s a full demon. He’s stronger than I am. Sooner or later, he’ll get what he wants.”

“I’m going to ask you something, and it’s important that you be honest with your answer.” She waited while he pulled his thoughts together—careful, as always, with his words. “Do you think Laurel’s demon half is stronger than her mortal side?”

“No,” Raven said. “She doesn’t want to be demon or to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t either,” Blade said. “If she doesn’t allow her demon side to dominate her, why is yours any different or any stronger? You are the only one who defines who you are. I agree that some spawn will be more demon than others. Some mortals are more dangerous than others, too. But that’s because most of them choose to be that way.” Blade drew her into his arms. “Give me time, and I’ll put an end to the demands he makes on you.” He shifted, his greater weight causing the bed frame to creak beneath them. “In the meantime, you owe him nothing, and you give him nothing.”

She did not want him facing her father again. If his amulet failed him he would be at a demon’s mercy, and demons had none. She would simply have to do her best to keep the two of them apart and stay away from her father as best she could.

If she could not do that, then sooner or later, it was Blade she would have to avoid.

…

Morning dawned over the mountains, crisp and clear. The day was still young by the time Justice and his companions reached the upper edge of the goddess boundary. It was much as Justice remembered—a steep drop to forest and then below that, the mist.

It began to affect him several miles before they arrived above it, filling him with a dull, familiar anticipation that he could not forget, a feeling he deeply resented for that reason. He had offered his service to the goddesses as an ignorant boy. He had not fully understood then that the allegiance could not be withdrawn or that he would feel their presence until the day he died. The depth of his hatred for them sometimes surprised even him.

The other two men, Seeker and the assassin Gauntlet, did not seem to notice the oppressive atmosphere of the boundary, but Willow did. Justice identified her uneasiness in the way she shifted in the saddle behind him, her hands and legs in constant motion as if she could not get comfortable. He ignored her restlessness, and the presence of the boundary, to scan the sharp slope for tracks. Loosened rocks, a skid of a boot heel in freshly turned earth, and the odd broken branch were all signs that others had passed this way not too long ago.

He wished Cage were here to interpret the tracks. Annoyance had Justice tightening his grip on the hross’s reins. He had tried to warn his friend of the dangers of running. Cage should have listened.

By afternoon, they reached a summit above the boundary. The gray blanket of mist extended well past the dull, watery horizon. Justice had never heard tell of anyone who entered making it beyond the marked path used by the young Godseekers. It ended in a small clearing where a goddess would greet him if he were to be her chosen.

The goddess who had chosen Justice was a black-haired, golden-skinned beauty. Over time he had grown to hate her for the way she’d made him yearn for her, how she’d stripped away any will he had to resist her demands. Raven’s smooth golden flesh might not have the same goddess-bright gleam to it, but the similarities were enough to remind him of his former mistress. The way she lured men was identical.

He wondered if his goddess ever wandered the boundary, attempting to find her way back to the mountains now that the demons were gone. If so, she would no longer desire him. He was not a young man anymore.

He had no intention of entering the mist if he did not need to. He wondered if Willow could enter. If so, then he would reconsider. If not, then it stood to reason that Raven could not either, and they were wasting valuable time here.

Seeker and Gauntlet stared at the layer of mist as if at the goddesses themselves, leaving Justice burning with impatience and contempt. They knew nothing of the true nature of the immortals.

The path became too steep to navigate safely while riding. Justice slid from the hross’s back, then held up his hands to help Willow dismount. Her gaze, too, was transfixed on the mist, but showed doubt and a trace of what could be mistaken for fear on anyone else. Justice did not think her truly capable of the emotion—she enjoyed instilling it in others too greatly.

“Willow!” he snapped.

She tore her eyes from the swirling gray mass to look down at him. The natural brown of her irises had changed to a fiery red. The color gradually faded, and she allowed him to help her from the saddle. A fold of her skirt caught on it, and she reached back with gloved fingers to tug it free. As he set her on the ground, his hands did not linger. It made his flesh shrivel to share a saddle with her, but she had proven useful and had not yet disappointed him.

“I want you to enter the mist,” he said to her.

“I can’t move forward.” She demonstrated for him. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected in front of her. Each step was brought to an abrupt halt.

Justice frowned. “If you can’t go beyond this point, how is it possible there are two sets of tracks leading down?”

The footprints were clearly evident, as if the owners had suddenly seen no need to hide them. Of course they had not, because they’d had no intention of returning.

But surely the boundary would not have welcomed Raven, a demon’s spawn. The assassin who accompanied her should not have been able to cross either. He had not been one of the chosen favorites.

The other two men had not yet noticed any problem. Justice kept one eye on them as he searched the ground for signs that the two who had entered the mist also returned from it.

There. Footprints, heading up and away from the boundary. He expelled the breath he had been holding. They had not made it, although it offended him that a demon and an assassin who had refused allegiance to the Godseekers had both been permitted to try.

Seeker and Gauntlet had almost reached the path leading into the beginning of the mist. They dug into the ground with their boot heels, balancing their weight on their haunches so they wouldn’t pitch headlong down the mountainside into the trees. Seeker paused when he realized Justice and Willow were not following and looked up at them with a question on his round face.

“Are you coming, Justice?” Seeker asked.

“No,” Justice replied. “I’ve found their tracks. They didn’t cross. They’ve gone back into the mountains in the direction of the old silver mines.” Once more, he wished Cage had not been so rash as to try and run from a demon. Justice could have used his skills.

Seeker’s reluctance to leave without entering the mist was obvious. A tiny frown crafted two deep furrows above the bridge of his broad nose, extending up his forehead. Gauntlet stopped his descent too, and looked to Seeker for direction.

“We’ve come this far. Since we’re here, we may as well take a closer look,” Seeker said. “It will give us something to report to the others as to the boundary’s current state.”

Justice silenced his impatience. He watched as Seeker and Gauntlet reached the tree line. When he was certain they were well out of hearing, he turned to Willow.

“When we find Raven,” he said, “I want you to trap her inside a circle of demon fire like you did me. She won’t want to expose herself as a spawn by crossing it. Not at first. Then, when I give you the signal, I want you to raise the demon. But when you do, release the circle.”

Her cruel mouth hardened. “If I do that, the demon will be free.”

“Not for long.” Raven was a beautiful woman who possessed all the allure of a full immortal. Justice did not believe a demon would be any more able to resist her than a mortal man. A demon had weaknesses in its armor, and all assassins were taught how to exploit them. While she distracted it, the assassin Gauntlet could kill it. “I want it to look as if Raven is the one controlling it. I’m confident she can contain it.”

If things went according to plan, the demon would be dead, and Raven would be either dead too, or held responsible for raising it. If Justice could retrieve the amulet she’d stolen from him, so much the better. He might find a use for it.

What bothered him now, superseding thoughts of Raven and retribution, was that he had not been able to descend to the boundary either. The barrier that held Willow back had held him back as well.

That was something he did not wish for Seeker, or anyone else, to discover and report.

…

It had taken longer for Creed to lose Might in the mountains than he’d liked. It would be even longer, however, before Might discovered that the trail he followed was not real, but one that Creed had planted as a thought in his head. In the meantime, Creed headed back to the temple to search in the direction Blade had departed in, to see if he could pick up some signs. Much of the snow was melted, and Blade’s tracks would probably have disappeared with it, but Creed was a strong tracker. Justice and Cage would have left a wider, easier path to follow. They’d not be expecting to have anyone following them.

And Creed had to find Raven.

From above the valley of the Temple of Immortal Right, Creed paused, took a deep breath of morning air, then began to work his way around to the place where he had said good-bye to Blade. His attention was focused on the ground, but a commotion at the temple gates caught his eye.

A force of ten men passed through. He scanned their faces, but Justice was not among them. They turned off in a direction rarely used because it led to nowhere but the far side of the mountains.

Creed watched until they disappeared from sight, examining the possibilities in his head as to why ten men would be heading toward the goddess boundary.

Then he followed them.

Chapter Nineteen

Of the three men, Walker was the one Blade believed he could work with. The younger man did not trust anyone, a trait with which Blade could easily identify. He did not talk too much either—or complain—and was quick to see things that needed to be done.

So on this afternoon, several days after they had all taken up residence in the village, it was Walker Blade chose to accompany him into the mining shaft he was currently exploring. A second man remained on guard duty while the third was foraging for necessities in a village a half-day’s walk away. Laurel and Raven were reviving a smokehouse they’d found.

Blade carried the lantern as they traveled deeper into the mine. The air grew heavy and dank, and the tunnel, narrower. They had no protective hats to wear and Blade was suspicious of the ceiling’s stability.

“Watch out for snakes,” Walker warned him. “Don’t put your hands in any holes.”

Blade was also familiar with mines and remembered the other dangers. At this time of year, snakes came inside and made nests in crevices for the winter. Most were harmless. Some, like the goldthief, were not.

It turned out that Walker had experience as a blaster—an explosives engineer responsible for breaking rock. His ability to move in shadow had made him invaluable in the mines of the lower regions because he could slip into places most men could not, then offer a proper assessment of the ore seams he found. After the demons were banished, his coworkers had no longer been as willing to overlook his unusual talents. He had been out of work, adrift, and on his way back to the village where he’d been raised when he met up with the other three spawn and learned his home was gone.

Blade swung the lantern high so he could see farther ahead down the tracks. It was possible that with access to skills such as Walker’s the mines here could indeed be reworked. If there was money to be made the neighbors might be more forgiving of their eccentricities, especially if the new residents proved to be non-threatening. These people, Walker and Laurel in particular, were harmless, although right now they felt cornered and that would make anyone unpredictable.

As far as Blade could tell, the mine was safe. All seemed fine. He had no idea why it had been abandoned.

“What’s your opinion?” he asked Walker.

“It’s stable enough, but I want to check behind that blockage,” Walker replied.

The boy had been shifting to shadow, slipping back and forth through walls to explore side tunnels for the past half hour. He took the lantern with him when he did, something Blade found equally as interesting as it was disconcerting. If Walker and his other companions could all carry things with them when they were in shadow—people, perhaps—miners would not need to worry so much about becoming trapped underground. But giving up the lantern left Blade blind while he waited for Walker to return.

Although he had spent the first fourteen years of his life in these depths, he had never cared for mining. Blade had been big for his age and the labor had done him no real harm, but he’d hated when the light disappeared and miners were forced to wait in darkness. Being down below was not the same as the natural gloom of a moonless night. This was complete black—oppressive and suffocating, as if a man had been swallowed by the stomach of the earth. He could not tell if he was sitting or standing. If he tried to move his arms or legs, he became disoriented and fell over.

Blade forced himself to breathe normally, closing his mind to all extraneous thoughts, and concentrated on Raven instead.

He thought it likely the goddess who spoke to him was right when she said that he would fail Raven when it came to protecting her. If her father was telling the truth—in this instance Blade couldn’t afford to assume he was not—then the others were in as much danger as she was, and they would all have to stand and fight. None of them, however, could resort to using their demon abilities. If they did, it would bring stronger and more determined forces against them. Somehow he had to impress that upon them.

But good as he was, by himself he did not truly believe he was capable of fighting off more than one trained assassin at a time. He’d paid for such arrogance before. In the end, he was an ordinary man. If they could not use their demon talents, then the possibility of Laurel and her companions offering any real assistance to him was slight, and while Raven was good with her bow, she was the one he wanted most to protect. He did not, under any circumstances, wish to place her in danger and therefore within her demon father’s reach.

A shout from the direction of the mine’s entrance, far off in the distance, stabbed through the thick sea of black. It echoed off the far reaches of the tunnel shaft before ending abruptly. Blade started, reaching for his knives, reacting on instinct to the cry, then staggered and cracked his head against the chiseled stone of the tunnel wall. As one hand snagged the edge of a sharp cleft to keep from falling over, a faint movement of air and a slight hiss warned him of danger. Something heavy crawled over his right boot. Nasty images of what had happened to Raven after the goldthief bite jigged to the foreground of his thoughts. He was not certain he could survive the nightmares as well as she had. He forced himself to remain still.

Then, Walker was back. The bright yellow beam from the lantern puddled the tunnel floor as Walker shone it in Blade’s direction. The tail end of a long snake disappeared into the shadows behind a detritus of crumbled rock.

“Did you hear someone shout?” Walker asked.

“Yes,” Blade replied grimly. “I did.”

They moved with caution, as fast as they dared, up the gentle slope of the mine shaft. The air they breathed cleared and grew colder. When the blackness became less dense and the lantern’s beam farther reaching, Blade extinguished its light. After that, he followed the sound of Walker’s footsteps.

Within a few moments, daylight from outside began to turn the black to gray.

Not far from the entrance to the mine, one of Walker’s companions sat with his back against a wall. He had his head slumped forward between his knees, and Blade did not need to touch him to know he was dead. The smell made that apparent enough, as did the wide pool of congealing blood.

Blade crouched to take a better look. The man had deep claw marks down one side of his face and across his shoulder. One cheek had peeled off in a large flap of skin. His coat and the shirt underneath were shredded to expose jagged wounds.

And his throat had been torn out.

…

Creed pushed through the patches of dreary, leafless forest and the barren mountain passes, trailing behind Justice and the assassins. After following the men through rough terrain for several days and eavesdropping at night, Creed’s worst fears were confirmed. Siege was dead. And whereas Siege, who was also a Godseeker, could have stood firm, Armor had been forced to acquiesce to Justice’s demands.

The ten assassins had caught up with Justice not far from the goddess boundary, but he had been heading away from it, following tracks he believed to be Blade and Raven’s. He swore that they had more spawn with them and were amassing an army.

The conclusion had puzzled Creed at first until he scouted ahead and realized Blade and Raven were being followed by more than Justice. There were too many footprints. His worry shifted to alarm. The situation was escalating beyond one he believed he could contain. Raven was in real trouble, and Blade would not be enough to protect her.

Another confusing piece in the puzzle was the woman accompanying Justice. As he’d listened at the edge of their encampment during the past few nights, he had heard disturbing rumors about her. Some of the men were inclined to believe she was a goddess. Creed confessed he found it difficult to believe that Justice would align himself with anything else, but it seemed he had. Creed did not need to get close to her to know she was half demon, and Justice kept too tight a rein on her, as if she were more his prisoner than someone he worshipped, to be ignorant of the fact.

The thought of a half demon under Justice’s control did nothing to lessen Creed’s deepening concerns. Whatever had been going on in the world for the past few months, it was about to explode.

Trouble was not coming. It had arrived.

…

Justice called a halt in a rock-strewn clearing above a small valley. Burrowed inside the valley were the remains of a tiny mining village. Most of the buildings showed signs of years of neglect. Several roofs had collapsed. From two of the houses, wisps of smoke spiraled upward into the crisp, late-afternoon air.

Anticipation put Justice in a good mood.

Once he had Raven and proved to the Godseekers the true threat spawn posed to the world, then she would be dealt with in a manner even more spectacular than he’d intended. She would serve as a warning to all women, mortal and spawn alike, who dared believe they could challenge a Godseeker and live.

After Raven, he would expose Willow for what she was, too. With so many assassins around, Willow had not dared turn on him or behave in any way demon-like, but she still had Cage’s death to answer for. The memory of his friend’s screams sometimes woke him, reminding him that women could never be trusted. She would serve as an example of that.

From there, it would be a matter of having the assassins tasked with destroying all the spawn they could find in the world. Abominations could not be allowed to survive. But he would start with the one hiding in the remote little valley.

“Surround the village,” he said to the men. “We need to be cautious. We have no idea how many of them are down there. Once we’ve determined the risk, we’ll begin to move in.”

And he would go first, taking Willow and one assassin with him, leaving Seeker in charge of the others. He did not want any witnesses questioning who had raised the demon.

Once the demon was free, and the witness’s story established, then Justice would call for Seeker to send in the remaining assassins.

…

Frost pinched Raven’s nose when she inhaled. The hint of snow that had been carrying on the cold mountain air for the past several days did not amount to much in the end, but the afternoon air remained brittle and cold.

Raven and Laurel had managed to find enough discarded but useful items to set up rough housekeeping, and they combined their workloads to make the interiors of their new lodgings as comfortable as possible. They had spent the majority of the day hanging strips of meat to dry in a small, homemade smokehouse they discovered behind one of the houses.

“How did you and Blade end up together?” Laurel asked her.

Raven closed the smokehouse door and latched it. Until now, the topic of Blade had been avoided between the two women. The others were wary of him still, and he did not trust them either. Raven was unused to playing the role of peacemaker.

That had been Creed’s role growing up.

“He stopped me from killing a Godseeker,” Raven said.

Laurel lifted the empty basket they had used to carry the meat and rested it on her hip. “I find it difficult to believe he cared enough to save another man’s life, even if he was a Godseeker.”

“It wasn’t the Godseeker’s life he was saving,” Raven said. “It was mine. And I’m sure if I asked him, he couldn’t explain why he did it.”

She told Laurel a bit more about how they’d come to be together, although not everything. She doubted if Blade would care to have any of his story told to others or anything about who he was in terms of a person common knowledge. If he wished to make friends, he had to do it himself.

That did not mean Laurel and the others needed to spend the winter living in constant fear of him.

“Your stepfather still hunts for you?” Laurel asked.

“As far as I know.” Justice was determined and ruthless. Raven had never known him to give up. She had embarrassed him by escaping, and he would not forget that.

The other woman’s sudden tense manner warned Raven that she was uneasy at the thought of a Godseeker arriving to find four more half demons than expected. Raven had wanted to discuss this as a group before now, but Blade had said no—that any one of them could have similar secrets, and until he knew more, he planned to share nothing. But Raven felt her new friend’s anxiety and was about to say more in an attempt to assuage it when Laurel’s attention was diverted by something behind Raven’s head. Her eyes widened, filling with shock and fear.

Raven turned to see what had so captivated her, prepared to defend them both from whatever it was.

A heavy weight slammed into her, carrying her to the ground and rolling with her at the last moment so that she was not crushed beneath it.

“I taught you better than this,” a familiar voice said, deep with disapproval.

“Creed!”

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as tight as she could, unable to believe he was here. She had given up faith in him. To have him arrive left her world bright and shining and made her feel invincible.

Laurel hovered nearby, a thick chunk of firewood in her hand.

“I know him,” Raven said to her. “He’s a friend.”

Creed disentangled himself and stood, taking her elbow and pulling her up beside him. She could not take her eyes off him. He had gained muscle, she noticed. His hair was gone, and the edges of a flaming tattoo peeped above the back of his shirt collar. She reached up and ran her fingertips over its outline. It felt hot and alive, and she was not sure she liked it.

Other than that, he was as big and beautiful as ever. He still had the kindest, friendliest eyes she had ever seen, and right now, they were filled to the brim with the same joy she was feeling.

Laurel, too, seemed somewhat awed by his presence.

“Where’s this assassin who’s supposed to be protecting you?” Creed asked. He looked at the sky. “Because as soon as the sun sets, we’ve got trouble.”

“We’ve got trouble now,” Blade said.

They sat in the main room of the house he shared with Raven—Blade, Raven, Creed, Laurel, and Walker. One of Laurel’s companions was dead. The other had not yet returned and likely would not for several more days. The room was cold because Blade had not taken the time to rekindle the fire.

Blade was glad to see Creed but less happy to hear the news he brought with him. Altogether, Justice’s force included two Godseekers, eleven assassins, and a woman who could raise demons and summon enough fire to demolish an entire village—with any inhabitants in it.

And somewhere outside lurked something that could tear a man to shreds.

He told Creed what had happened to the man they had left at the mine. He had followed the trail of blood into the woods at the top of the valley, above the mine. Whoever—whatever—it was watched the approach to the village, not the village itself.

A small gasp had come from Laurel at the start of Blade’s story. Now she was silent but very pale, and she shook all over with a fine trembling that Blade recognized as trauma. Raven held her hand, squeezing her fingers.

“Come with me,” Raven said to her, standing. “Let’s go collect our things from the smokehouse and check on the fire.”

Blade wanted to tell her to stay inside where he could watch her. But the sun had not yet set, the smokehouse was only two houses away, and Laurel did not need to hear any more of this. Still, he could not hide his worry.

Raven paused at the door to glance at him over her shoulder. “We’ll only be a few minutes,” she said.

She was angry with him. Her parting smile for Creed was warmer and lingered longer.

Blade reached for his rifle, which was propped in a corner behind him, and passed it to Walker. “Go with them. Only use this in self-defense.”

Walker took it, nodded once, and followed the women. The door closed behind them.

“What made you come back?” Blade asked Creed.

“I always intended to come. I didn’t want you to know it. You aren’t as impervious to persuasion as you think you are.” Creed grinned. “I needed to find an argument you’d have no trouble believing. It seems you have commitment issues.” He then drew Blade’s attention back to their unfinished discussion. “It wasn’t wolven that killed your man?”

“No.” What he’d seen had not been done by any animal Blade knew of. “Are you sure it’s not something that came here with Justice?” he asked in return.

Creed’s answer was equally definite. “I’m sure.”

Whatever it was, it was not on either side. Blade did not have the numbers to stand against the Godseeker as it was. A second threat would be impossible to overcome.

He wondered what might have happened to Laurel’s third companion, the one who’d gone off in search of supplies. With any luck, he was far away and safe. Regardless, he could not be counted on for help now. That left him with Creed, Walker, Raven, and Laurel, as well as a dilemma.

He needed their demon abilities. However, using those abilities to kill would only bring out more of the demon in them. He doubted if that was a serious problem for Walker and Laurel. He did not believe they had enough demon blood in them for it to be a serious concern. Creed was already a trained assassin. And Blade did not have any particular investment in any of them.

Raven was a different matter entirely. He did not want her a part of this.

“Can you reason with the other assassins?” Blade asked him.

“Not that many at once. I’d need to speak with them each individually. And that’s not going to happen.”

Blade spread his palm flat on the table’s worn surface and examined his fingers, thinking hard. “We don’t want to kill assassins or Godseekers, except in self-defense. We need to convince them somehow that we’re all on the same side.”

“What side do you believe that to be?” Creed asked. “Because from where I sit, other than your own, the only life you care about is Raven’s.”

Blade did not bother to deny it. “I’m on Raven’s side. She believes spawn deserve a place in this world and that the innocent will need protection, and she’s willing to fight for it. I’m not willing to let her, so I’ll fight for her, instead.”

Outside, the shadows lengthened as Creed thought it over. “That’s the side we should all be on, although I doubt we’ve yet reached that point. Siege had no love for Justice,” he added. “And Armor is a realistic man. So is Seeker, the other Godseeker with them. If we can somehow get rid of Justice, we may be able to reason with him. The assassins will take orders from Seeker as fast as they will from him, but in the end, they take their orders from Armor.”

And Armor took his from the Godseekers.

“Then there’s only one man you need to convince,” Blade said. “Get to Seeker, and get him to call off the assassins. They need to be warned of whatever’s out there. If it came after us, it will go after them too. Which leaves Justice to me. You don’t want to be involved in that.”

“What about the woman with him?”

“She’s mine, too,” Blade said. He could not forget what she had done to all of those people.

Creed rose from the table. He wore a heavy coat with a fur-lined hood and drew the flap over his head. “Try to take her alive if you can. Laws need to be established if the innocent are to be protected,” he reminded Blade. “If she’s brought before the Godseekers, they may find out things that might be important to know for the future.”

“She murdered an entire village of people,” Blade said. “Laurel saw it all. She knows how it happened. What more do you need to know?”

Creed finished knotting the ties of his hood. His eyes hardened. “I’d like to know why.”

…

“He didn’t mean to be so blunt or unfeeling,” Raven said to Laurel. “He sees no point in disguising the truth is all.”

Laurel passed the back of a hand over her brow. “I’m fine.” The cold air had revived her somewhat, and her trembling had eased. “I’ve lost so many people, one more shouldn’t matter this much. I don’t like to think of him suffering.”

Since Raven could not assure her he hadn’t, and Walker had nothing to contribute, she thought it best to leave it alone.

They stood at the corner of Raven’s house, between it and its drab, empty neighbor. The wind rattled a section of loose, brittle siding.

She looked at Walker. “Could you get Laurel something to drink please?”

He hesitated. She could sense his mind working. Blade had sent him to watch over them, and it would not be long before the sun went down.

“Laurel can shift to shadow, and I can take care of myself,” Raven reminded him. She allowed some of her demon allure to sift to the surface, and his eyes slid away from hers, embarrassed, but she had seen his concern for Laurel. “Blade and Creed are within shouting distance. We’re going to check the fire, pick up our basket, and meet you right here. We’ll be fine.”

He made up his mind. “I found some sealed bottles of whiskey stashed behind one wall of an old cellar,” Walker said. “I think she could use some of that.”

Whiskey was hard to find in the mountains and worth more than gold. Unless it was homemade, it could only be brought in through the desert. And until recently, the presence of demons had determined the trade routes.

“That would be perfect,” Raven said.

While he went to get the whiskey, the women hurried between the abandoned houses to collect the basket they had left behind at the smokehouse earlier. The simple, everyday task gave Laurel distraction and purpose.

With Raven carrying the basket, they turned to go. Movement caught her eye. She grabbed Laurel’s arm, setting the basket on the ground behind her as she did.

At the corner of the empty dwelling where they had been scavenging stood a woman with long black hair.

“That’s her,” Laurel said softly in Raven’s ear.

Raven’s heart raced when she saw Justice standing behind the woman. He had lost weight in the weeks since Raven had last seen him and had a bit more gray in his hair. The hardness inside him was more transparent. Raven read victory in him.

The situation was not good. With him was another man, younger, taller, and heavily freckled, who gave off the air of an assassin as he dispassionately assessed the two women facing him. But Raven had not run these past weeks only to give up so easily now.

“Shift,” she whispered to Laurel. At least then one of them could escape and go for help.

“No.” Laurel’s own initial panic seemed to have fled, replaced by a serene calm and determination of manner that added to Raven’s worries. Laurel believed she had nothing left to lose, and she wanted revenge more than survival.

Raven, too, had thought she wanted vengeance, and the sight of Justice so close tempted her. But more than that, she wanted to live. She was not afraid to die, she discovered. Not by mortal means. She simply was not ready to say good-bye to life, and to Blade. If anything happened to her, he would blame himself. She could not bear the thought of him living with so much guilt on his already overburdened conscience.

She tried to think. She did not want the strange woman to be aware of her own chaotic emotions—although she could tell by the cruel smile curling her lips that it was already too late.

“Hello, Raven,” Justice said, before he glanced at Laurel. He tugged up his collar against the bite of the piercing wind that swirled throughout the dreary remains of the mountain settlement. “Is your companion a spawn, too? What might her demon abilities be?”

Raven made no comment. Laurel’s sole ability was to shift to shadow, and she did not want the newcomers to know of it. It could yet save her life.

“We haven’t done any harm to anyone,” Raven said. “We want to be left alone, nothing more.”

Justice thumbed the brim of his hat from his forehead. “No harm? You raised a demon and destroyed an entire village.”

“That’s not true!” Laurel cried out, drawing his attention from Raven. She stared hard at the woman with Justice and pointed a finger. “She’s the one who raised the demon that killed my family.”

Laurel lunged for the demon woman, and Raven grabbed for her friend, her fingers missing purchase on the sleeve of Laurel’s coat by scant inches. The taller, freckled man drew back his arm and threw a knife he had palmed. It caught Laurel in the abdomen, and with a sharp cry of pain, she stumbled and went to her knees. Raven hurled herself forward, throwing her arms around her friend to protect her from any further attacks. Fear for her friend washed through Raven before she could suppress it. The demon woman’s smile widened. She fed on fear too, Raven realized, sickened—that made her more demon than mortal. She enjoyed killing.

A wall of flame sprang up around Raven and Laurel, pinning them into a circle. Raven saw the assassin hesitate. Then he drew back, as if uncertain now of what was happening and unwilling to take further action until he understood. Raven was grateful for that reprieve, small as it was.

“I should have run the knife through your heart when I had the chance, instead of your leg,” Raven said to Justice. “But it was too small a target.”

Justice chuckled softly at her insult. “We already know a little fire won’t harm you.” His gaze slithered from her face to Laurel’s. “But what will it do to your friend?”

He sounded curious, as if conducting some minor experiment. At a gesture from him, the demon woman tightened the circle of fire. Inside it, a few feet from Laurel, a demon slowly began to take shape, towering head and shoulders above the flames. The sight and smell of Laurel’s blood transfixed it, and it turned on her with hot, hungry eyes.

The woman who raised it did not seem to understand what she did. She had not drawn any of the boundary with it to keep it from entering the mortal world. Fire alone would not be enough to contain it for very long.

Raven had to do something. She shot to her feet, moving as far from Laurel as she could, and allowed her own inner demon to surface, hoping its allure would be enough to draw the attention of both the demon and the assassin. The demon’s massive head swung in her direction, its eyes curious now, Laurel all but forgotten. It shifted to mortal form in an instinctive response.

Raven lured it to her—one step, then a few more.

And then she had her hands on it, and it was hers. But she had none of Blade’s knives on her this time to dispatch it with, and she could not pull the one from between Laurel’s ribs for fear the action might kill her.

“Stop her!” she heard Justice commanding the demon woman, his voice harsh.

The flames shot higher, the dancing circle tightening even more around them, forcing Raven to step closer to Laurel, and in turn bringing the demon closer to her, too. Raven was not afraid of the flames. She called the fire to her, drew it in, and allowed it to fill her until the circle vanished and a smoking black ring was all that remained.

With the circle gone, and no weapon at hand, only her grip on the demon kept it from escaping into the mortal world. But the fire she’d absorbed was too much. It threatened to explode through the pores of her skin. It burned inside her, but she did not dare release it.

…

Only years of training kept Blade from a mindless rush to Raven’s defense as her screams of pain, mixed with the thick allure of her protective defenses gone wild, filled the air.

He could not leave the house unobserved through the front door as Creed, who deflected unwanted attention, just had. Instead, Blade went out a back window and into the cover of shadow, where he ran behind the houses to the place her screams led him.

He emerged to a scene of chaos.

Raven had one hand on a demon. Laurel lay on the ground behind her, gravely injured, possibly dead.

Two men stood outside a scorched and smoking circle of earth that surrounded the two women and the demon. One of the men was Justice. Blade assumed that the other was an assassin. Neither seemed to possess an ability to move, which Blade could well understand given the allure Raven did not seem to have under control. A third woman stood a few feet away from them, unaffected by Raven, her feet positioned as if ready to bolt at the first opportunity.

Flames shot from Raven’s eyes and rippled beneath her golden skin. She turned her head slightly in his direction, as if sensing his presence, and at once, the full brunt of her allure transferred to him. He had not been prepared for the extent of it, and it took him a few seconds to recover, but he shook it off as fast as he could because it indicated to him how very distressed she was.

Despite Blade’s worry for her, and Laurel’s motionless form, the demon remained his highest priority. He pushed his emotions aside and focused on the practical. Raven was all that held it in mortal form. It could not be allowed to gain freedom.

Walker materialized not far from him. He raised the rifle and would have fired on Justice if Blade had not dived for him, grabbed his arm, and wrenched the weapon from his hands.

“Self-defense only,” Blade reminded him. “Don’t make an enemy of the Godseekers and their assassins. You have to think of your future, not just this moment. Raven protects Laurel better than we can right now. We need to make certain no harm comes to her, because if that demon escapes her, we’re all dead.” He set the weapon aside, propping it against the wall of the house. “You have to trust that I’ll do my best for both of them,” he added. “Can you do that?”

Slowly, and with grudging reluctance, Walker nodded.

“Good.” Blade clapped him on the shoulder and turned his attention back to the demon.

From the corner of his eye, Blade saw the black-haired demon woman begin backing away, then turn to run. He had no choice but to let her go and hope that Creed and the assassins in the surrounding area would somehow intercept her. If she had any skills that might regain control of the demon she’d raised, she did not appear inclined to use them to help Justice.

The assassin stood back to watch Raven and the demon she held, and also Justice. He had noticed that things were not right, Blade thought, and was considering everything, which was good. Whatever Justice had told him, he no longer believed it. But he still remained a threat to Raven and Laurel.

“I want you to shift to shadow and work your way around to the tall one with the knives,” Blade said to Walker. “When I give you a signal, I want you to stop him. I don’t want you to kill him. Just hold him. That’s important,” he added. “You can’t kill either of these men. If you do, you’ll be hunted like an animal and treated worse than one if you’re caught. You’ll be made an example. Do you understand me?”

Walker nodded again.

Since Blade could not see him once he shifted to shadow, he gave Walker to the count of fifty to move into position behind the assassin. Then Blade came at the scorched circle of earth perpendicular to where Walker should be, his knives flying from his hands with precision. The freckled assassin staggered but remained on his feet, wounded but not grievously so, and Blade ducked to the side, barely in time to avoid the answering knife flung past his own face. A second followed it to graze his arm, tearing his coat sleeve. He had no idea if it hit flesh or not. Too much adrenaline coursed through him to feel it if it had.

Walker took solid form from the shadows behind the assassin. One arm went around the freckled man’s throat while his free hand pressed a knife to it.

Blade ran into the blackened circle. He saw the strain on Raven’s face and the fire that burned out of control in the depths of her blazing eyes. The heat generating from her pores made it impossible for him to approach her. She had almost destroyed herself trying to contain it once before. She had released it only when she believed it posed a danger to him.

He had to get closer so she could see the potential for harm and remember how she had fought it.

Laurel moved then, and struggled to her feet, but she was unable to remain fully upright. She had one hand pressed to the hilt of a knife protruding from her abdomen, and blood seeped from between her fingers. From years of experience, Blade knew it unlikely she would survive the wound.

Justice toed the edge of the circle but did not enter it.

“You’re an assassin, in lifetime service to the goddesses,” he said to Blade. He pointed to Raven, then the demon. “She’s raised it. You have a duty to kill them both.”

His words were not intended for him, Blade knew. The Godseeker wanted the assassin with him to understand that Blade’s vows had been broken, and it was not the goddesses he now served.

But Blade had never made such a vow. He served only his conscience.

“She has not raised a demon!” Laurel cried out, her eyes fierce on Blade despite the pain she had to be suffering. She tried to position herself between him and Raven, as if to protect her.

The action pierced him. Even as injured as Laurel was, she felt the need to defend Raven from him. Did she truly believe he was that cold and cruel? That he could harm her?

He had always prided himself on being a man of his word because it was all the honor he could guarantee, even if only to himself. He did not give it lightly, or often. He would die before ever allowing anything to happen to Raven. To live knowing he’d failed her was impossible.

Raven had not taken her eyes from Justice, and Blade had no doubt that if an opportunity presented itself, she would kill him. He could not allow her to do it this way, when her demon was so out of control and dominant. Even she did not want that. Yet he could not get close enough to her to help dampen the flames either.

Laurel, however, was already too close, and in grave danger both from the flames and of bleeding to death. He could think of only one way to resolve this situation, and it was not an option he wanted to use. While he did not care for his own sake, killing Justice would bring trouble on them all.

Then he saw in Raven’s fiery eyes that she had come to a conclusion of her own, and it was one he wanted even less. His heart tripled its beats.

Because she planned to summon her father.

Chapter Twenty

Creed got as close to the Godseeker as he dared before revealing himself. Seeker crouched on his heels beneath a crooked juniper, a rifle across his knees, as vigilant as he could be considering the circumstances. One assassin was with him, a man named Griffin who Creed knew well. The remaining assassins had fanned out but remained within easy shouting range. He knew them, too. More importantly, they knew Creed—and that he had left the Temple after taking orders from Siege.

Creed stepped from the trees with his hands in the air. A twig snapped beneath one of his boots, and the barrel of Seeker’s rifle swung in his direction.

“Who’s there?” Seeker demanded, peering into the darkness.

“Creed,” he replied. “Griffin knows me. I was sent by Siege to find one of the women in the village you’re watching.” He moved a little closer, but with caution. “We need to talk. Things aren’t right here. Justice—”

He heard a rustling in the bushes before the other two men did.

And then the night spit out a tiny demon.

It leaped straight for the assassin guarding the Godseeker, all long claws and razor-sharp teeth. Griffin shrieked as he went down beneath it, terrible sounds that sent shudders through Creed, who had thought he was immune to horror.

Seeker fired a shot with his rifle at point-blank range, but the bullet hit bone plating and ricocheted into the night. The demon crouched over Griffin’s body, blood dripping down its jowls. There was something not right about it, Creed could see. It was too small and oddly formed—almost childlike in appearance.

Creed moved between the demon and Seeker, prepared to protect the Godseeker.

The black-haired woman who had been with Justice came out of the darkness. As she approached, the demon shifted to mortal form, revealing a small, naked child—a little boy with a twisted and deformed body. His hair hung wild in long, dirty, matted clumps, but even in the dark, Creed could see the unnatural beauty of his face. It was plain that the child was feral. Creed’s heart twisted in horrified pity.

The woman stroked the boy’s head. “I warned Justice that I don’t travel alone,” she said to them. “He chose not to believe me, and now you might be a few assassins short. There are more where this one came from. Remember that if you try to follow us.” She looked at Creed. “Tell your friends you’re either with me or against me.” She smiled at Seeker. “Tell yours that your goddess has come and that you’re either with me or against me, too.”

The pair slipped away, leaving Creed speechless.

“You’re right,” Seeker said from behind him. He sounded as grim and horrified as Creed felt. “We do need to talk. But first, let’s go find the others.”

…

Blade could not stop Raven from summoning her father. Instead, he dug deep and drew on the piece of the boundary by the sea he had created for her from his imagination. It was not large, just a simple patch of beach that was big enough to encompass Raven, the demon she held, Laurel, and Justice. Blade had managed to exclude Walker and the assassin.

But it was enough. And barely in time.

Raven’s father appeared. In full demon form, he made the patch of beach seem even smaller. His attention was not on his daughter or the demon she held, but rather, the mortals around them. He sniffed the air, then looked at Laurel, his eyes drawn to the blood seeping from the knife wound to form a widening pool.

Behind Raven and the demon she continued to hold in its mortal form, the sea’s waves surged in uproar, spinning and crashing against the shoreline. The turmoil in this particular piece of boundary reflected his emotions, Blade realized with a jolt, because it came from inside him. He buried his feelings, and as they steadied, the waters calmed.

“Release the fire into the demon boundary,” Blade said to Raven.

The fire inside her died away as he had hoped it would. Awareness struck him, crystal clear and bright. Her greatest demon strength posed no danger to the mortal world, as he had once assumed it would before he came to know her so well. Her strength was in the way she used her demon to defend and protect those she loved.

Raven dropped to her knees beside the injured woman and took her hand. Even though she was no longer touching it, the demon could not yet shift back to demon form. The tiny piece of boundary that Blade had drawn on was too small for it to escape Raven’s allure. It turned on Blade.

Blade went for a knife, the smooth, practiced throw catching the demon in its heart. It went down, and he did not need to wait to see if it was dead but sprinted the short distance to Justice because Raven’s father was now advancing on him.

The Godseeker paled but stood his ground. Blade gave him grudging credit. Whatever else he might be, he was not a coward.

The demon spoke to Raven, his eyes flaring red with satisfaction and anticipation. “I’ll grant you one favor for bringing me this,” he said to her. “Anything you wish.”

If Raven accepted the favor, she would find herself more beholden to her father than ever. Blade had made her a promise. He seized Justice’s arm and positioned himself between him and the demon. In his current form, Raven’s father stood head and shoulders above him. Blade possessed no illusions that the demon had any more liking for him than it did for the Godseeker Blade now held in his grasp.

A chilling memory flashed through his thoughts of a long-ago day in the desert when he had been attacked by a demon, left with his leg torn apart and facing certain death. He buried the recollection quickly but not fast enough. The demon’s attention had been diverted from Justice to him. Cruelty shone from its blazing red eyes.

“Give me the mortal,” the demon said.

“If I do, you owe the favor you offered Raven to me, not her,” Blade said. “I want your word that if I give him to you, she owes you nothing. You won’t summon her ever again.”

Justice swung a fist at him. “Bastard traitor to the goddesses.”

Blade ducked the blow and twisted the Godseeker’s arm behind his back, then pressed a knife to his throat. The temptation to kill him for all he had done to Raven was great.

“Try to hit me again,” Blade said to him, “and I’ll draw blood. Then I’ll walk away from you. Do you understand me?”

“I understand that you serve a demon whore now, not the goddesses. You’ll be hanged for this. Or I’ll have you tested as a spawn so you can burn alive.”

Blade did not care about Justice’s opinion of who he served or any punishment he might threaten. He wanted Raven to be free of this man and of the demon, too.

The demon rolled its head back and forth, shrugging meaty shoulders beneath heavy bone plating and thick red skin. Its gaze narrowed on Blade. “For that price, I want more from you. I want the amulet you wear.”

Every instinct in Blade warned that he should not agree. If he gave up the amulet, he gave up his ability to hold this boundary in place. His safety inside it would no longer be guaranteed.

“Ask what he wants with the amulet,” Justice said to Blade. “He gave it to his whore. Why would he want it back now that she’s dead? Sentimentality?” The last word dripped with scorn.

No, Blade did not believe the demon was sentimental about the amulet. With regard to Raven’s mother, however, he did not doubt there was an attachment—Blade felt the same for Raven. And sentimentality was the real reason he did not wish to give the amulet up now, and without question why Raven’s mother had kept it until Justice had taken it from her.

There was more to the demon’s motives than that. Blade could practically taste it. But he would buy Raven’s safety and guarantee that she, at least, would be free. Not even fear of what the demon might do to him in this half-world boundary could deter him.

For Raven, he would risk everything.

“You would trust it?” Justice asked. Incredulity slackened his face. “A demon?”

“As much as I would anyone,” Blade replied. He released his hold on Justice and met the demon’s eyes. He snapped the amulet from the chain around his neck and held it out in his hand.

The demon’s clawed fist curled around the amulet. “She’s far more demon than you wish to believe, mortal. Blood will tell.”

And he crushed it into dust.

The boundary vanished, returning them to the dusk of the mortal world where there was no roar of the sea, only the groan of the wind through the mountains and trees.

Blade had not expected this move. Neither, however, had the demon anticipated the next one from him.

Blade had learned a few things from the Demon Slayer. Hunter had once saved his life, and they had fought demons together in an attack against Freetown. As a result, Blade knew that a demon’s greatest areas of vulnerability were between the bone plating of its natural armor. Blade withdrew a knife from the sleeve of his coat and drove it up and under the gap in the plating beneath the demon’s outstretched arm. Without hesitating, he pulled another knife from a second hidden sheath and drove it into the base of the demon’s throat, slashing sideways until he hit its protective plating, and the knife’s shaft snapped from the metal. Blood spewed, droplets spattering his face, hot and wet.

He turned away, needing no confirmation that he had made a kill and not wanting Justice to have time to escape.

But the Godseeker had not made an attempt at one. He’d grabbed the rifle Blade had left propped against the side of the house.

Blade assessed the situation in a glance.

Raven was on her knees beside Laurel, her hand on the knife buried in her stomach. And Justice had the rifle pointed at Raven’s head.

“I need you to pull the knife out of me. I don’t have the strength,” Laurel gasped.

Raven shook her head. “If I do it might kill you.”

“I’ll die for certain if you don’t.” Laurel’s skin was icy and pale. She had lost a great deal of blood. It seeped through her heavy layer of clothing and spilled around her in a black puddle. “It prevents me from slipping to shadow because it’s inside of me.”

“Will becoming a shadow heal you?” Raven asked. The smell of blood stirred her demon and made her ill. She could tell that Laurel was not sure but hoped it was true, and believed the possibility existed.

That was enough for Raven. She did not want Laurel to die, which was the only alternative. She gripped the knife’s hilt, slick with congealing blood, and drew it from Laurel with a wet, popping sound that made her stomach clench in sympathetic rebellion. Laurel moaned, then quickly shifted to shadow.

Raven heard Blade shouting. “Get down!”

She did not look around to see who he was warning. The unfamiliar edge of alarm in his voice was enough to make her react. She dropped to the ground and buried her face in her arms. She felt a hum in the air above her head, followed almost instantly by the crack of a rifle.

She lifted her head to see what danger remained. Night colored the world in grays and blacks. Walker maintained his hold on the freckled assassin, but had developed a frantic look to him that warned her he was close to breaking. Blade was already in motion and headed for Justice.

Justice held the rifle, but instead of attempting another shot at Raven, he seized the barrel in both hands. He swung the stock like a club in a blow that Blade could not avoid. It connected with Blade’s temple, and he went to his hands and knees, dazed but not unconscious.

Walker made an involuntary move to go to Blade’s aid, thus losing his hold on the assassin. The assassin slipped free and would have turned on him, except for the arrival of Creed and several more people from out of the darkness.

“Stand down,” one of the newcomers said to the assassin. He was balding and stout and spoke with such an air of authority that the assassin obeyed him at once.

Raven’s demon, however, already agitated, went wild when it saw Blade fall and not get up again.

From head to toe, Raven burst into flame.

Blade shook his head. It was rare for someone to catch him off guard like that.

As he returned to full consciousness, his one clear thought was of Raven. He was aware of the others around him, heard Creed shouting his name from somewhere nearby and with increasing urgency. And he saw the brilliant blue sheet of flame that emanated from where Raven had been sprawled on the ground.

Fear for her drove him to his feet. The heat grew more intense and the siding on the house beside her began to bubble and smolder, curling and shriveling. Blade did not care about the loss of the building, although if it caught fire, the flames could easily spread to the others. He did not want Raven to immolate herself, as she almost had once before.

Justice began to bring the barrel of the rifle around again, and Blade went for a knife, ducking to jerk one from the cuff of his boot. But as he did, Raven rose in a living wall of fire. She walked toward Justice, who threw up an arm to protect his face from the heat. He turned, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped between her and the house. The side of the building erupted in fire, and then Justice’s hair caught, and finally, his clothing. He started to scream.

As far as Blade was concerned, Justice could burn. It was no more than the Godseeker deserved. And Raven had wanted to kill him, which was something she deserved, too.

Blade understood her desire for revenge and was hardly one to cast stones. He did not blame her for it. But if she left Justice to burn to death in a fire she had called from the demon boundary, through her demon abilities, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

Or what was worse, she might not. She did not want to be any more demon than she was. And Blade had made her a promise to keep that from happening.

As Blade threw the knife in his hand, however, aiming for the Godseeker, Raven pulled the fire to her—along with Justice, who was trapped within its flames. The knife embedded itself in the side of the house.

Raven disappeared. She took Justice and the flames with her.

Blade groped for the now-empty chain at his neck. His stomach dropped.

He had no way to follow her.

When she allowed her demon to take control, Raven discovered the fire felt good.

Very good.

And Justice’s screams felt even better.

But in the back of her head she heard Blade. He said he was not afraid of her. He said she was not a demon. And he said he would not let her become one. Using her demon’s abilities against Justice, especially here, would make her no better than he was for using his position of power and greater physical strength to murder her mother.

Scant seconds had passed. There was still time to take command of her demon and stop what was happening.

Lightning cut a bright path across the bleak boundary sky.

The flames died away.

Justice fell on his hands and knees. Most of his clothing had burned away, and raw, red welts and blisters covered his skin, but he was alive and conscious and he would survive. In spite of everything he had done, and what he’d planned to do to her, Raven could not hold back her horror and pity at the sight of what she’d done to him. She discovered it wasn’t that she did not want to be demon. It was that she did not want to become like Justice—cold, hard, and filled with hate.

He knelt with his head hanging low between his shaking shoulders.

“Here,” she said, reaching out a hand to him, intending to help him to his feet so she could take him home. “We’ve only got a few minutes before demons find us.” Already, she could see ominous shadows flickering between the flashes of lightning along the crooked, rocky ridges above them.

Justice jerked away from her touch. He lifted his head and looked at her with a loathing that left her catching her breath. “You’re a spawn and a whore, like your mother. You think you’re too good for mortal men. I hope demons do find you. Then you can whore for them instead. I hope they torture you, and you die screaming beneath them.”

She straightened, stepping back a few paces. There was nothing to be said in response to such hatred or that could change it. He was not the only mortal who would feel this way about her…or any of the other half demons now emerging from hiding.

She tried one last time. “If you don’t let me help you, you’ll die here,” she said. “This part of the boundary belongs to demons. Not even the goddesses can save you.”

“I’d rather die,” Justice said, his fingers plunging into the sand beneath his palms, “than owe any debt to a spawn or run from a demon. At least I’ll die fighting.”

And again, Raven heard Blade’s voice. This time, he told her to walk away.

She was no longer afraid of the demon inside her, or of its abilities, and she called on it freely. She alone governed her choices. She would have no trouble in standing before the goddesses, or anyone else, and defending them. She could come and go from the demon boundary as she wished.

Right now, she wished for Blade. The boundary, the demons, and Justice all disappeared.

The next thing she knew she was safe in Blade’s arms, on the ground, with him covering her as best he could as he shouted to Creed for help.

Chapter Twenty-One

“I’m an assassin now, Raven,” Creed said. “I belong with the temple, not here.”

A snowfall the previous day had not been enough to block the mountain passes and prevent travel, but it told him that it was too late to start his search for Willow. It would have to wait until spring.

For now he would go back to the temple, meet with Armor, and hope that the new leader would be willing to present a plan of action to the Godseekers that was proactive and involved working with half demons rather than be reactive and based strictly on fears of the unknown. The assassin who had been with Justice in the village confirmed that it was Willow who had summoned the demon, not Raven, because it was now undeniable what Raven was. Much would rely on Seeker and the story he told after that.

Creed stood beside the kitchen table in Raven’s house, packing his belongings while she watched. She sat on the bed with her legs drawn up and her chin propped on her knees. A single ray of sunshine caught her black curls and turned their thin, coppery-red streaks to fire. The room was bright and warm and cheery, and while she did not seem happy enough to please him, she was not unhappy either. She and Blade had a few things to discuss, he was sure, and his presence here hindered that, too.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said.

Creed tightened the last drawstring on his pack. He could not afford to stay any longer. There were more problems cropping up in the world for the Godseekers and assassins to discuss and address. The fate of the demon child had been appalling and could not be blamed entirely on demons. Mortals owned an equal part in this by abandoning children they did not want.

Laws could no longer ignore the innocent. Not if they did not want the innocent to become the vengeful.

But he loved Raven and had watched over her for her entire life. It pained him to walk away again, even though this time he knew she was in much better hands, because she would never again be his to protect. He would not need to worry about her or plan on returning for her. Blade was now responsible for her happiness as well as her life. She didn’t need Creed anymore. Maybe if she knew of their true relationship, things would be different. But it had always seemed safer for her if she did not know of it.

As he looked at her, he wondered if she did know, and if that was why she clung to him when it was Blade she should be turning to.

He set the pack on the floor. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her. “What I am?”

She smiled a little. “I’ve always known who and what you are. You don’t hide your emotions very well. Everything you feel is right there for me to find.”

“Then you should know that I can do more good by working with the assassins and Godseekers than I can here. The world is changing, and we all have to adapt. The problem won’t go away.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like your leaving,” Raven said.

“I’m not the one you should be worrying about.” Creed let his love for her surface to take the sting from his next words. “I know how men like Blade think. I know his reputation. He’s not used to taking responsibility for other people. Protecting them is a lot harder than killing—and a lot more worrisome. You’re the only one who knows what he feels, even better than he does.” Creed paused for a beat, letting his words sink in. “He’s not searching for happiness. He’s looking for purpose. Justice is gone, and in a few months, the Godseekers’ position will be clear. Even if it’s not what we hope for, there’ll be others here to help defend you, even better than he can. You need to give him a reason to stay. If you don’t, then come spring, he’ll be gone.”

“He has plenty of reasons,” Raven said.

But Creed read the doubt in her eyes. He donned his coat and boots, ruffled her hair, and kissed her cheek, then gathered his belongings and left her to think about what he’d said.

…

While Creed and Raven said their good-byes in private, Blade split firewood behind the house, swinging his ax in a steady rhythm. He did not want to intrude on their final moments together.

Laurel had not yet emerged from shadow, although Walker, who had gone in search of her, seemed to think she was healing. That had been enough to satisfy Raven, taking some of the haunted shadows from her eyes. He expected Creed’s leaving to affect her, but Blade was determined to find a way to ease the nightmares she suffered over what had happened to Justice in the demon boundary. He had not protected her when she’d needed it most. That failure continued to gnaw at him.

As Blade brought the ax down again with another heavy thud, the spot between his shoulders began to itch. With a casual movement he shifted his grip on the smooth handle into a throwing hold, dropping his knees and drawing back his arm as he turned. He recognized the boy standing a few yards away from him barely in time to check the release of his weapon.

“It’s me—Roam!” the boy cried, flinging his hands in the air.

Blade rested the ax head on the chopping block and leaned on the long handle. “What brings you here?”

“Raven,” the boy said. “Is she okay?”

Roam’s face was pinched and tired, and he looked much older than he had a few short weeks ago. Blade thought it likely Roam had not fared as well with other spawn as he’d hoped the boy might.

“She’s fine,” he said. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

The boy’s shoulders sagged as if an enormous weight had been lifted from them. “A few days ago, she sent out distress signals that could be heard as far away as the Borderlands. I came as fast as I could.”

Blade had not forgotten that Roam had been the first half demon to find her when she was suffering the effects of the goldthief bite, or that he was not the only one who could track her that way. “How strong were the signals? How many more do you think will be able to locate her?”

“I’m not sure. Her cries didn’t last long, and not everyone who heard them will try to follow them. They’ll either be too afraid or simply indifferent.” Roam stuffed his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders to his ears against the wind filtering through the trees. “What happened here?” Blade told him, and Roam grew thoughtful. “Do you think the assassins will be back?”

“Yes.” Blade hoped the Godseeker and the others would speak on their behalf, as Creed had promised, and that some sort of peaceful arrangement could be reached. Even though Blade had not been with them long he remembered Armor from his days in the temple, and despite the fact that a Godseeker had been killed, Blade thought the new leader could be reasoned with. Creed would have until spring to try and do so. “We need to prepare for the worst, but it’s possible they’ll be willing to listen and leave this place alone. It’s better to work with them than against them.”

Roam absorbed that, his face serious, then seemed to reach some sort of conclusion.

“Can I stay with you?” he asked. “Just for the winter?”

There were half a dozen villages in the mountains such as this one. If Roam stayed here, eventually he would bring others. But before Blade could open his mouth to respond, Raven interrupted.

“You can stay as long as you like.” She approached them from around the side corner of the house, a warm smile on her lips and in her eyes. Blade’s ribs squeezed his lungs at the sight of her, and her smile shifted to him. With her blazing blue eyes and gleaming skin, she looked far more goddess than demon to him.

Her stepfather’s death had not harmed her. Being half demon did not diminish her. It brought out all that was best of her mortality. Blade was so ordinary by comparison. What had he done in his life to deserve someone such as her?

Even Roam appeared dazed. “I’ll be no trouble, I promise,” he said to her.

“Of course you won’t. Will he, Blade?”

She turned to him with the sun and the moon and the promise of every hope he’d ever had shining from her eyes, and any thoughts other than of her left his head.

“No,” he managed to say.

“If you want to come inside, I’ll find you something to eat,” Raven said to the boy. “After that, we’ll introduce you to the others.”

She gave a little wave of her hand to Blade, then led Roam indoors.

Blade went back to splitting wood, and his ability to think returned to him.

Other spawn would be coming. It was inevitable, just as she had predicted. He did not like feeling inferior to them or want to seem that way in her eyes. He had spent too many years as a cripple, fighting every day to prove, if only to himself, that he was no less of a man because of it. He would not spend the rest of his life trying to prove himself worthy to others. Not even for Raven.

Which meant he did not have much to offer her other than his love.

If it was not enough—if it would never be enough—then he would return to the goddess boundary in the spring and he would cross it. When he did, he would not return.

…

“Where are we going?” Raven asked.

“A place we can be alone and uninterrupted.”

Blade had been acting strangely all day, and after the things Creed had said that morning, it worried her. So shortly before dusk, and at Blade’s urging, she followed him out of the village to climb a small, overgrown path he had discovered in the woods. He held her hand, something he only ever did when they were alone. Although he would never admit it, or perhaps did not realize it, he used touch to communicate emotions to her that he found too complex to articulate.

He was not a man who displayed strong emotion, yet right now, he was deeply troubled.

They reached a tiny clearing. Through the snow-tipped tree boughs and broken rock, she could see the rooftops of the village houses below them. Narrow streams of smoke from three of the chimneys puffed straight upward before dissipating into the quiet air. From here, the approaches to the village could be monitored from three different angles.

Raven’s heart beat so fast it left her light-headed. Whatever he wished to say to her, he believed it wasn’t up for discussion.

Hurt blindsided her. He did not wish to be with her anymore. She had proven herself more demon than he could accept. She had truly begun to believe that it did not matter to him. She had thought he loved her even though he could not say the words, that all he needed was time to come to terms with it. He had so little experience with positive feelings he did not seem able to recognize or trust them.

But she had already given up Creed and accepted that he had greater responsibilities, and people who needed him more. She was not going to be as understanding of Blade if he tried to leave her too.

She extricated her hand from his, refusing to make this easy for him. He would have to speak, not rely on her interpretation of his emotions to convey his meaning. She was having enough difficulty dealing with emotions of her own.

He reached for her hand again, his broad shoulders blocking the view of the village, but she stepped away and hid it behind her back. The hem of her skirt caught on some brambles, and she bent to dislodge it. Then she stood to face him.

He was more handsome than any demon could ever be, at least to her. His long, black hair softened the severity of his sharp, angular face. A few early threads of gray touched his temples, the only physical sign of his tendency to worry. Other than a quiet warming of his eyes sometimes, when he looked at her in a way that always made her heart race a little faster, he never smiled. She wondered if that would ever change for him, or if he was so damaged he could never allow himself to feel any real joy in life, as Creed had insinuated. He was too afraid if he found it, he would lose it again.

That was his greatest fear.

“You have something you want to say to me?” she prompted him.

His eyes were on her face but did not warm the way she liked. She felt the earth become unsteady beneath her feet, as if she were about to be thrown from the mountain at any second. Terror seized her with icy hands.

“Roam says more people will be coming here,” he said.

His manner was not encouraging but on this one point, Raven refused to yield. “We’ll have to make room for them, then,” she said. “We can’t turn them away.”

“No. But how long will it be before there is no more room left here for me?”

The words made no sense to her. She frowned at him. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. You’ve organized most of the work. You’ve helped repair the houses so we all have warm places to live. Why wouldn’t there always be room for you?”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m mortal.”

The implication stunned her. He was Blade. She did not think of him as mortal or anything other than himself. To her, he was larger than life—more than all of the mortals and immortals combined.

Without him, she had no world, no purpose. Nothing.

“If this village can’t be a haven for all, then it’s a true haven for none,” she said. “What about half demon children? Their mortal mothers should be made to feel welcome here, too. If they are, then women who were seduced by demons will have no necessity to rely on men like Justice for protection.”

“The others may not feel as you do.”

“Walker and Laurel will,” Raven said without hesitation. “If the others don’t, you and I will move on and find another place where we can welcome the people who need it. Or they can move on instead.”

Quiet intensity spilled from him. “You would do that? Move on with me?”

“How could I not?” she asked, bewildered again. It hurt her to breathe. “I thought the tentative arrangement you and Creed reached with the Godseekers and assassins meant you could be happy here, or at least content. Are you telling me you don’t wish to stay with me? That you don’t want me with you any longer?”

“I’m trying to say I have nothing to offer you.”

“I have nothing to offer you, either. Other than my love,” she added, very quietly.

He did not speak. She could not tell what he thought or how he felt about her disclosure. She had put it out there, and now he could not ignore it or pretend it did not exist. Creed was wrong—Blade knew his feelings very well, except he chose which ones to acknowledge. If he was going to walk away from her, she would at least make him be honest with regard to his feelings for her.

“Did you know the amulet was meant for a demon’s mate when you gave it to me?” he finally asked.

The question unbalanced her further. She could not absorb the meaning behind it or what he wanted to learn. Did he think she had tried to trap him with the amulet? To bind him to her?

“I know my father meant it for my mother because he thought she was his,” she said. “But she had to accept him in return to truly be his mate, and she never did. Not completely, in the way she would have had to.” She tried to smile. It did not feel convincing, even to her. “She wasn’t an especially brave woman.”

“She refused to be parted from you, which made her braver than many other women,” Blade said.

That was true, Raven thought, surprised by his insight. Her mother’s life had been a difficult one. She had once walked amongst demons. If she’d not had a skill that made her valuable to her community, she might not have survived as long as she had or been welcome at all.

“The moment I accepted the amulet from you, I knew I belonged to you,” Blade continued. “That connection to me is why you think you love me.”

He thought she was the one who had been trapped. Either way, it did not matter. “It’s a connection I don’t wish to break. I don’t think I love you. I know I do.” She closed her gloved fingers around an object in her pocket. It was a gift she had been working on for the past few days but she was no longer certain it was appropriate to give it to him. “That amulet you wore was meant for my mother and no one else. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you, other than that it was something precious to me that I wanted you to have. It has nothing to do with how you feel about me either. You believe you belong to me only because you love me, too.” She drew a deep breath. “Until you can understand and accept that you’re using that amulet as an excuse to avoid your feelings for me, then no, you really don’t have anything to offer me. All I want from you is your love.”

The faint hope she felt rising in him, and the way he refused to allow it to fully surface, made her want to weep for him.

“What about children?” he asked. “Do you want those, too?”

“If they’re yours,” she said.

The hope in him swelled a little more, the barrier against it ready to break, yet still, he resisted. “You don’t want children of mine.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “Demon blood has already been mixed with mortal. That can’t be undone. Do you think any children we might have between us will be somehow better or worse than the ones that already exist?”

“I haven’t led the kind of life most fathers do. I wouldn’t make a very good one.”

Relief left her faint. She gave a small laugh, even though tears blurred her vision. “My father was a demon,” she said. “You hardly compare to that.”

He did not seem convinced, but she knew that he wanted to be. She stripped off her gloves and stuck her hand in her coat pocket, withdrawing the gift she had crafted for him. It glinted in the light, a heavy silver chain attached to a thick chunk of smoky quartz that she had carved into a dagger-shaped pendant. Walker had searched the mines for a lot of hours to find her exactly what she wanted.

She reached up to place the chain over Blade’s head.

“This is a dream stone,” she said, “from the mortal world. It has no special properties. You can’t walk in the demon boundary or create one of your own when you wear it. It won’t protect you from demons. It’s a symbol of my love for you and that I dream of you, nothing more than that.” She tangled her fingers in the silver chain and drew his mouth to hers. “You’ve faced demons for me. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to prove his love more than that—although I’m not asking you for proof I don’t need. I’m asking you to allow yourself to love me back.”

He cradled her head in the palms of his hands, resting his forehead to hers. “I do love you. I can’t promise I’ll be good at it because I’ve never loved anyone before, and the thought of failing you frightens me far more than demons ever could.”

“Fail me?” She fought back tears. “You saved me. When I set Justice on fire—when I watched him burn in the boundary—in the back of my head was your voice, telling me you aren’t afraid of the demon in me. That I’m not a demon. You can only fail me now by not allowing yourself to love me.” She slid her arms around his waist. “Can you be happy here?” she asked, suddenly anxious. “With me?”

“I can’t imagine being happy anywhere without you.” He crooked a finger beneath the dream stone amulet and raised it between them. He blinked several times as he struggled for words. “You say this has no special properties, but you’re wrong. It speaks to me, reminds me we belong together, and that the future brings hope. I don’t allow myself to love you—I do so because I can’t stop myself. Nor do I want to.”

He kissed her then, as the stars began to emerge in the deepening sky. Her demon, never far from the surface whenever Blade touched her, almost purred with deep and intense satisfaction that this man was hers. Now and forever.

Blade rested his forehead against hers, holding her close in his arms. “I can’t keep you from the demon boundary, as much as I wish I could. All I ask is that you don’t go there without me.”

“Never again,” Raven said. “When you’re with me, I don’t fear the dark. We’ll fight our demons. Together.”

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank Danielle Poiesz and Kerri-Leigh Grady for being such thorough editors and asking hard, detailed questions. The entire team at Entangled Publishing is so amazing to work with.

About the Author

Paula Altenburg lives in rural Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband and two sons. Once a manager in the aerospace industry, she now enjoys the luxury of working from home and writing full time. Paula also co-authors paranormal romance under the pseudonym Taylor Keating. Visit her at www.paulaaltenburg.com.

Content

Black Widow Demon
Demon Outlaws - 2
by
Paula Altenburg

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Acknowledgments

About the Author