But there. Oh, there. The stench of super-heated metal and acrid charcoal and singed flesh. That wasn’t Mac. Or human.
I see you, she told it. And, on impulse, Who are you? What’s your name?
Learning Demardel’s name had changed things for her. If this blade had a name...maybe it would change things for Mac.
But the blade lashed out at her, filled with fury and...fear. The strike raked through Mac on its way to her, twisting the rich essence she’d only just found and wrenching a cry from him.
Me. I did that. I’m doing that to him!
She fled from it. Found herself clutching him, found him clutching her back, both of them panting and astonished.
And the blade fled, too. Shocked and quiet. Not as before, when the pendant had shut it down, but simply hiding.
For the moment.
Mac, his eyes still wide and wary, said, “What the hell did you do?”
She shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.
I am nine years old, and my life will never be the same...
My father had a demon blade. He found this pendant. He gave it to me for safekeeping so he could finish his hunting—for those who killed my mother, for those like her. But he waited too long, and he was about to lose his fight with the blade, so he came after it...and me.
He wounded me. He left me with the pendant and a healed-in sixth sense about those who would hurt me. Or hurt others. And now the pendant has brought me to this place, this time, this man...
I am twenty-seven years old, and my life will never be the same.
Mac rolled to his knees, to his feet. “What?” he demanded.
“I want to call them,” Gwen blurted, climbing to her feet beside him. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes my father made. I want to know what’s going on!”
She didn’t have to define who she meant. Mac bit back his snap of a response, a visible effort. He closed his eyes and took a breath and she couldn’t help but be amazed even at that, that he could think at all.
But in the end, he shook his head.
“Don’t you understand?” She barely stopped herself from shouting it at him. “I felt it! I scared it! If Natalie’s found any more information, maybe it’s enough. Maybe I can free you from this thing!”
Free us from this thing.
But she didn’t say it out loud, because it felt presumptuous. Three days of absurd intensity, of an astonishing physical connection and sexual release—maybe that was all it would ever be. She could free herself simply by walking away.
Except she’d felt that deep essence, and she’d tasted that rich, solid, amazing presence that made the core of him.
She knew what stood before her, and what it meant to her.
Mac, however, was not in mind-reading mode. Mac only shook his head. “This blade is the only chance we have to stop that man.”
That man. It had started as something of a joke, to refer to him that way. Now it was second nature, and suddenly so startingly unreal. “No,” she said. “No, it’s not. We don’t have to do this by ourselves. My father tried to do it by himself, and look where it got him! Look where it got me!”
He astonished her with the instant fierce tenderness of his response—stepping in to hold her close and tight, to sweep her up, two damp, hurting people under storm-racked skies. She was just as surprised at how tightly she returned the embrace.
“Where it got you,” he murmured into her ear, “is right here. And I’d have been lost days ago without you.”
She rebelled against that, stiffening in his arms. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’re stronger than that. I’ve felt it.”
“Stronger,” he agreed. “But tired. And I had no idea it would react like that.” He pulled back, touched his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Now I do. And you’re right. I can’t do it alone. So make your call.”
Chapter 16
Devin James paced before the expansive office windows, scowling out at the grounds of the estate. A warm plate from the kitchen sat untouched on the corner desk; Anheriel sat in his pocket. It purred, if a knife could be said to purr.
That was the thing, wasn’t it? Not truly just a knife at all. A demon blade, and fully aware of the rising turmoil in the city. Not only that, but fully anticipating the part it would play.
Anheriel would drink deeply this day, Devin had no doubt.
Natalie stood by the worktable, its broad surface covered with papers, copies, notes, and several of the most fragile books from the blade room. She also had a plate—fruit and yogurt parfait, a special treat from Jimena, the estate’s cook, who had been through hell with them not so long ago and who now split her time between the estate and Sawyer’s new Alley of Life Restaurant project.
Sawyer Compton had had ulterior motives for that one, using it as a front for his own nefarious deeds—but the idea itself had been too good to lose, and Natalie had kept it alive even as she researched their blades.
And now, Demardel.
“Okay,” Natalie muttered. “She’s obviously activated the thing, whether she’s gotten it to reach its full potential or not. I can find mention of the blood, and earthy stuff like sex never hurts.”
“Sex never hurts,” Devin agreed. “You’re sure they—” He fielded a look from her and subsided. “Okay, yeah. Sex never hurts.”
“I just can’t tell if it matters that she didn’t know its name. Names are such a big deal with these...” She hesitated, looking down at the blade on the worktable—it had turned itself into a delicate surgeon’s instrument once she started using it to slice up photocopies.
Devin had the suspicion it was amused.
Natalie had apparently made up her mind to avoid making up her mind. “Entities. Names are such a big deal with these entities.”
It was closer than Devin had ever gotten to defining the complex nature of the blades. Fallen beings, seeking redemption, incorporated into metal, forged into weapons from which they could both influence and act. “It may be enough,” he told her. “Look how long I handled Anheriel before even knowing it had a name. I didn’t get the impression our new friend knows his blade, either.”
“Michael MacKenzie.”
“Yeah, yeah. Mac.” Not that he hadn’t known it. He just hadn’t liked the fact that he had a reason to know. “Do you think it matters? I don’t see this guy ditching the blade. Didn’t seem like the type.”
She looked up from the notes she’d just made. “Do you even hear yourself? Two days ago you wanted to take him down. Now he’s a good guy?”
“Didn’t seem like the type doesn’t necessarily lead to good things.” Devin resumed his prowl along the window wall. “I’m completely secure in my consistency.”
“Uh-huh.” Natalie shot him amusement and let it stand, but she sobered quickly enough. “Why it matters is that we really don’t want them to sever that bond right now. Things are too unsettled—we still don’t understand what’s going on out there. We don’t need a loose blade in the middle of it, or a brand-new wielder dealing with it all.”
“We don’t need this guy attached to the blade if he’s about to hit the wild road, either.”
She didn’t respond right away. She’d been there when this guy had made it through the late morning battle with the blade; she better than anyone knew how close he was. Finally she said, “I hope he can do it. I think we need him.”