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.