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.