Tirana flew past me and crashed into a wall, but was instantly on its feet, its curls standing out in a golden halo around its cherub face adorned by a snarling mouth and sharp, pointed teeth. It screamed a warning of vengeance and threw itself back onto Eduardo, knocking Guarda down in the process. I used the moment of respite to consider our options.
Downstairs, the room they built to hold Sebastian. He said it was specially constructed, warded, protected to keep him inside. We can use that as a bunker, turn the wards to protect us.
No. I will not go there again. He staggered slightly to one side as a demon flung itself at him, shredding his shirt and leaving a trail of blood across his chest.
We have to. It's that or die here. I felt his indecision, felt his horror of the place, and knew then that he must have been locked in it during the hours of the day I was dealing with other matters. I'm sorry, my love, but we have to go there. I need quiet to see what remains of my abilities, to assess the damage, and you need blood.
I kicked at a demon that reached for me, stumbling backward when Christian beat the creature off, then turned and thrust his sword downward, throwing the last of his power into the stroke. The carpet beneath my feet caved in, taking Christian and me with it as we fell to the stone floor below. A startled demon peered down at us from the gaping hole in the library floor.
Quickly, Beloved. This way.
I took the hand Christian offered and allowed him to heft me to my feet. My bad leg buckled under me, but Christian's hand was strong, his fingers warm around mine as he swung me up onto his shoulder, the broadsword still in his left hand as he kicked debris out of his way and raced for the vault.
Demons poured down into the hole after us, terrible, tortured shrieks following them that told me the demons weren't too choosy about who they attacked. It was difficult to summon up much pity for any of the triumvirate, so instead I yelled at Christian to go faster, waving my fists at the demons that scrambled after us.
The door to the vault was metal, just as Sebastian had said, inscribed with wards of containment. The wards were broken now, but still etched into the steel, their presence a testament to the pain of the men who had been held inside.
"Can you ward it?" Christian asked, his back to me as he waved the sword at the oncoming demons.
I tried clearing my mind and gathering strength to draw a ward, but there was nothing there. The ward would not draw.
"No," I cried, sick with the knowledge that I had lost it all, lost all my abilities.
He slashed at the nearest demon, driving it back, then yanked open the door and shoved me inside, slamming the door behind us.
"Is there a lock?" I asked as he threw himself against the door to keep the demons from opening it.
"Not on this side."
"Poop."
"A very polite way of expressing it, but certainly appropriate."
"What are we going to do?"
The sound of a bolt being thrown home outside the door and gales of demonic laughter answered the question.
"It would appear our problem is solved, at least until one of the demons realizes that although we cannot get out, they cannot get in," Christian observed wryly as he eased himself away from the door, prepared for it to spring open.
It stayed locked.
I looked around the small, lead-lined room and felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. In a corner stood a metal table, confinement straps dangling over the sides. It wasn't the table that was so horrible; it was the imprinted fear and anger and pain that clung to it that had me clutching Christian.
"Did they do something to you there? Did they torture you there?"
He said nothing but his eyes darkened. I leaned into him, merging my mind with his, reading there all that he had suffered as Eduardo had drained his blood from him, gloating over Christian, taunting him, tormenting him with the knowledge that he could not save me.
But you did, I told him as I rained kisses down on his face. You saved us both; I see that now. I didn't understand at first, but now I know why you gave yourself over to Asmodeus. You knew it was the only way to make him believe I would not sacrifice myself for you.
He stood passive for a moment, taking my love, letting it seep into the parched corners of his soul; then his hands were on me, fitting me tightly against his body, his lips searching out mine as I welcomed him into my body, my heart, my being. His tongue teased mine, tasting me, remembering me, immediately going into an arrogant, ordering-my-tongue-around mode that melted me against him.
"How long do you think they'll keep us locked in here before they figure it out?" I asked breathlessly.
He started backing me toward the far wall. "Long enough," he answered, nuzzling my neck. I let my legs go all boneless, running my fingers through his long, silky hair…
"Drat." I unclenched my hand in order to use both hands on Christian. A small, metallic ping sounded just as I was about to kiss him until his fangs rattled. We both stopped and looked at the gold ring on the floor.
Christian stilled, his arm tense beneath my hand. I blinked, rather stupidly, I admit, but hey, I'd been through a lot. I was allowed to blink stupidly if I felt like it.
"Is that what I think it is?"
I nodded, staring at it, still blinking. Stupidly.
"Asmodeus's ring. How did you get it?"
"I don't know. It just suddenly came off his hand when I was trying to stop him from strangling me. I forgot I had it."
Christian looked at me. I looked at him. Not stupidly, but with growing dismay. "I can't, Christian. I can't."
"It's a personal item, a talisman of power. Why can't you?"
There was nowhere to sit but the floor, so I sank down onto the cold stainless-steel floor next to the ring and wrapped my arms around my legs. I'd have to tell him; he would know the next time we merged. "I fried my brain when I attacked the triumvirate. I tried, I really tried to deal with Eduardo, but it's gone, it's just gone, I can't do magic anymore. I couldn't even ward the door, and even a child can draw wards."
Christian squatted next to me, his hands warm on my shoulders as he turned me to face him. "Allegra, you haven't fried your brain. You've drained yourself, yes, but you haven't permanently damaged yourself. You can't; you are my Beloved. You are immortal now."
"If I'm so immortal, why does my leg still hurt? And I bet you my eyes haven't changed."
"Being granted immortality does not mean your physical flaws are obliterated."
"It's also no guarantee of the quality of brainpower. Part of my brain is dead, Christian, the good part, the only part of value. Now all I have left worth anything is my blood."
His fingers brushed a strand of hair out of my face with a gesture so tender it made tears come to my eyes. "Do you honestly believe that I would pick a woman who had nothing to offer me but a means of sustenance?"
"You're just trying to be nice and make me feel better," I accused. "You're going to say something sweet and endearing and wonderful that will melt my heart and make me see things that I'm too stupid to see now, aren't you?"
"Yes," he said, then tilted my chin up and kissed me. Tell me who you are.
"Allegra Telford," I said, obstinately refusing to give in to the intimacy he wanted from me.
That is your name; who are you?
"Your Beloved."
That is what you are; who are you?