“So the tide has turned, girls. And there is death and destruction imprinted on your souls. Bear in mind that all that was, all that will be, is dictated by a thin scale. The universe metes out its will. The gods play their hands. And we—the Hags of Fate and the Harvestmen, we wind the skeins of all life. But even we follow rules, and we are governed by the balance of order and of chaos. I will help you as I can, but things will grow much darker before there can be light. And the night—the night has just begun.”
And with that, she motioned for us to go, not giving us a chance to ask her any questions. We stepped out into the star-filled night. It was late, very late now, and nearing dawn. Menolly would still be up, and I wanted to get home in time to reassure myself that yes, she was okay. That Chase and Sharah were all right.
The trek back to the clearing was wet and soggy. Rain poured down, but the scent of the cedar and fir and moss and mildew soothed me as we pushed through the undergrowth. As we came into the clearing, we could see Vanzir.
He was waiting for us, leaning against his car, the headlights on to guide us. For the first time, the snarky look was gone from his face, and I could see real fear in his eyes. He straightened up as he saw us.
The sound of a jet winging overhead filled my ears and it felt sweet and safe—a far cry from the echoing thunder of the storm. But how close would that storm be to us? How long before Telazhar found more of the seals, or took control of the portals in Elqaneve and filtered his sorcerers through here to gate in the demons?
Too many questions. Too much danger ahead. I slipped into the backseat of the car next to Shade, while Camille settled in front with Vanzir. He started up the engine, and as we settled back against the seats, he eased the car out onto the road. But, even though I felt my eyes starting to close, the spin of the wheels on the pavement seemed to whisper, “Death . . . death . . . war is come and you are right in the path.”
Chapter 13
When we walked through the house, it felt like we’d been gone a million years. A million miles. Morio was there, waiting for Camille. Hanna had filled the table with steaming food. The quiet sound of Maggie playing echoed from the living room. Everything seemed so surreal that I didn’t know what to do first.
Camille looked equally at a loss. She cocked her head, and said, “What . . . it feels like we need to be doing something. How can we just walk back into our lives and go on as if nothing were happening over there?” She sounded mildly hysterical.
Morio glanced at Shade and nodded. “Okay, you two. First things first. You both need baths and food. Then, we’ll sort out what comes next. There’s nothing you can do for anyone in Elqaneve tonight. You’ve done all you could. You’ll just make yourselves sick if you don’t get some rest.”
He bundled Camille off to their rooms, and Shade slid his arm around my waist and we started the long haul up the stairs, watching as Morio and Camille vanished onto the second floor. By the time we reached our bedroom, I felt so exhausted I could barely walk. I wearily dropped to the bed, wanting nothing more than to pass out. But Shade wouldn’t let me.
Instead, he began to undress me, and I let him. Normally, I didn’t like anybody fussing with my clothes, but I laid back, letting him slide my boots off. Then he unzipped my jeans and eased them down my legs. Next, he slowly inched my panties off and added them to the pile.
“Give me your hand.” His warm gaze held me, and I obeyed. He pulled me to a sitting position and motioned for me to raise my arms. Off came the sweater, and then the bra. I sat there, naked, assessing the roadmap of bruises lining my arms and legs. There were also plenty of them on my torso, and I knew Camille had fared just as badly.
“How’s your hand?” he reached for my bandaged hand.
I stared at it. “I forgot about it.” And so I had. The pain of the wound seemed minute compared to everything that had happened.
Shade cautiously removed the bandage. The wound was sore and red, but it had not spread and seemed better than when Sharah had bandaged it earlier. He irrigated the wound, cautiously scrubbing the skin around it, then medicated it and fastened it with a new dressing. A plastic bag over the top, snugly fitted to my wrist, would ensure that it didn’t get wet.
“Come on pussycat. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He led me into the bathroom, and even though I didn’t care for baths, I welcomed the sight of the steaming tub of bubbles. My aching muscles also didn’t like the thought of standing up in the shower, and so I eased myself into the tub, leaning back, trying to ignore the sensation of motion that always made me queasy when water lapped around my body.
A moment later, and Shade was scrubbing my back, still in silence. I closed my eyes, but the rolling clouds, the flashing lightning, lit up my memory and I began to panic. I jerked to a sitting position, trying to breathe.
“Love, love . . . are you all right? Delilah?” Shade had hold of my hands.
“The storm . . . the storm.” And then, I was crying, weeping, as I wrapped my arms around my shins and rested my head on my knees. “It was horrible. It was so . . .” I lifted my head slowly, staring straight ahead. “If this is what war is like, how do men live through weeks and months and years of it? How do you live in that much fear for so long without going crazy?”
Shade stroked my hair, then my face. “You don’t. Every war takes a toll. Even tonight, even what you and Camille went through . . . I’m sorry, my sweet, but it will be with you forever. I doubt you’ll ever be free of that memory. That’s what war does to people, whether you escape near the beginning, or you see utter destruction for years on end. There’s nothing to be done but learn to live with it. To learn to face the fear and not run.”
As he took the shampoo and rubbed it in my hair, holding me gently as I lay back for him to lather and rinse, I thought about all the people we knew who had been to war. How, even though we were on the verge of demonic war and had been fighting demons for what seemed like forever, we had seen nothing yet.
And Shadow Wing’s armies would be worse than Telazhar. The death that we’d seen rain down from the sky today was a pale shadow to what the Demon Lord could do if he broke through. We’d need to be at the top of our game. We’d need to push aside the apprehension and make certain that our worst fears didn’t happen.
By the time I was clean, the numbness was beginning to seep out of my soul. The hot water, Shade’s gentle hands . . . the feeling of being home, helped to cushion the pain. My body ached. I was hungry and tired but ready to face whatever came.
“I guess . . . food next. And then, we see how Sharah is doing. And then . . . to sleep?” I looked at my lover.
Shade held out the towel. “It will get worse, Delilah. It will get far worse before it gets better. But we have an advantage. We have something to lose. And you always fight harder when you’ve got someone to protect, or something to lose.”
And with that, I toweled off, brushed my hair, dressed in my sweats, and we headed down to the kitchen to regroup, take stock, and figure out what the hell we were going to do after that.
Menolly was anxiously waiting to launch herself at me when I entered the room. In an uncharacteristic move, she slammed into me for a hug, then—to my startlement—leaned up to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. It was over before I could say a word, but that she had been able to bring herself to show physical affection to someone other than a lover spoke volumes.
Camille was already at the table, tucked into a silk robe, and she cradled a cup of tea between her hands. A plate of cookies in front of her remained untouched, but she had a hamburger on her plate, and it looked like Morio had gotten her to eat a few bites.