Justice. It could be no one else or her father would not care. Raven’s heart gave a small flutter. Did the Godseeker hate her so much that he would use a half demon who possessed demon morals—that is to say, none at all—to hunt her down? Or was his contempt so high that he thought he could control any woman?
She forced herself to concentrate on where she was and who she was with—and what he wanted from her, because her father’s pupils had dilated in reaction to her tiny spike of alarm. On the outside, in mortal form, he seemed so beautiful that it was too easy to overlook what he was. Inside him, however, there dwelled a vast chasm of darkness.
He did not want to help her. He felt no attachment to her and no love for her. He had never loved her mother either. Not in the way a mortal longed to be loved, and that was why her mother had turned from him. In the end, his demon allure had not been enough to hold her.
Understanding crashed through Raven with the force of the thunder that shook the earth beneath her. An ability to love another, deeply and without expectation, was one more reason the immortals envied a mortal existence. To love another selflessly was an ability they did not possess. He did not want Justice so he could save Raven or avenge her mother. It was as Blade had tried to tell her and she had known. Her demon father thought only of his own gain, and she did not know for certain what that might be.
When she killed Justice she would do so by mortal means and for her own purpose, without help from any demon. Because that was what would carry her over that precipice into darkness and make her the demon her father wished her to be. Her mortality—and humanity—would be swallowed by that same blackness he had inside him and never reemerge.
“I won’t kill for you,” she said. “And I’ll never hand you a mortal.”
He smiled at her with such radiance, and yet so much emptiness, that it chilled her. “I think you will. I’ll give you this much for free,” he said. “Someday soon you’ll need me. You’ll have no choice but to summon me because the Godseekers are sending assassins after you, and you, little demon, don’t want to die.” His smile faded and became cruel. “You don’t want the mortal who wears my amulet to die either. My price, in exchange, will be either your life or the Godseeker’s. The choice of payment is yours.” He tapped a finger to her cheek, and it was all she could do not to shudder. “Remember me in your prayers.”
Then she was back in the main room of her new house, with Blade asleep in the bed in one corner.
No. She did not want him to die.
For a long time, she watched him as he slept. Her desire for him never failed to astonish her, striking sharp and hot and at the oddest of moments. But it was not a sexual desire that filled her with this longing for him that could not seem to be sated or set aside. Nor was it a response to him by her demon.
She loved him. That was an entirely mortal emotion, and although more quiet in nature, also far stronger and deeper than anything her father had felt for her mother. She could not imagine life without Blade, but she did not want to be the cause of his unhappiness any more than his death.
And he was not happy here.
Despite her feelings, all her love and desire, she was not enough for him. He wanted more, but she did not know what it was, only that it was something she could not give him.
Raven got back into bed and slid beneath his arm. His cheek pressed into her hair, his breathing steady. A chunk of firewood popped in the hearth, and the firelight cast a faint, cheerful light across the semi-dark room. Icy pellets of snow tapped at the black windows.
She had a solid roof over her head, food to eat, and the bed beneath her was a luxury she had almost forgotten. And yet she could not help but feel that disaster lurked in every shadowy corner. She did not see how she could ever be free of her father. And she was afraid that at some point he would get whatever it was that he wanted, because for Blade, she would give him everything.
“What did he say to you?” Blade asked, startling her so that her breath froze.
She rolled to her side to face him, sliding one bent elbow beneath her head. He smelled like crushed soap root, fresh and clean.
“I thought you were sleeping,” she said.
“I thought the same about you.” He lifted a lock of her hair and twisted the curl around one finger, then gave it a gentle tug. “So what did he want?”
“He says Justice and the demon woman are following me and that the Godseekers are sending assassins after me. If I ask him for help against them, he expects payment. He wants either Justice or me.” She turned to Blade. “No matter what happens, remember your promise not to let him have me.”
The eaves sighed. Other than that, the night remained silent. He did not answer her, but she had no need of one. Blade would do what was necessary.
“Do you ever pray?” she asked. “Without thinking about it or really meaning to? Maybe just a wish—but a heartfelt one?”
“I suppose I do. I’d imagine everyone does.”
“Do you know who answers mine?”
Blade’s response was typical of him. Blunt and practical. “If he does, then you should pray for him to leave you alone forever.”
“He’ll never leave me alone,” she said.
“Exactly.” Blade rolled closer and placed his broad palm on her stomach, the weight of it heavy and reassuring. “He picks up on prayers and wishes that are highly emotional. Of those, he responds to the ones he believes he can exploit. That’s not fulfilling prayers.” He paused. “Wishing for something doesn’t mean you should have it, and saying something doesn’t necessarily make it true. He’s doing nothing for you that he doesn’t want, too. He can demand payment from you all he likes but it doesn’t mean you owe him anything.”
“I’m half demon,” Raven said. “He’s a full demon. He’s stronger than I am. Sooner or later, he’ll get what he wants.”
“I’m going to ask you something, and it’s important that you be honest with your answer.” She waited while he pulled his thoughts together—careful, as always, with his words. “Do you think Laurel’s demon half is stronger than her mortal side?”
“No,” Raven said. “She doesn’t want to be demon or to hurt anyone.”
“You don’t either,” Blade said. “If she doesn’t allow her demon side to dominate her, why is yours any different or any stronger? You are the only one who defines who you are. I agree that some spawn will be more demon than others. Some mortals are more dangerous than others, too. But that’s because most of them choose to be that way.” Blade drew her into his arms. “Give me time, and I’ll put an end to the demands he makes on you.” He shifted, his greater weight causing the bed frame to creak beneath them. “In the meantime, you owe him nothing, and you give him nothing.”
She did not want him facing her father again. If his amulet failed him he would be at a demon’s mercy, and demons had none. She would simply have to do her best to keep the two of them apart and stay away from her father as best she could.
If she could not do that, then sooner or later, it was Blade she would have to avoid.
…
Morning dawned over the mountains, crisp and clear. The day was still young by the time Justice and his companions reached the upper edge of the goddess boundary. It was much as Justice remembered—a steep drop to forest and then below that, the mist.
It began to affect him several miles before they arrived above it, filling him with a dull, familiar anticipation that he could not forget, a feeling he deeply resented for that reason. He had offered his service to the goddesses as an ignorant boy. He had not fully understood then that the allegiance could not be withdrawn or that he would feel their presence until the day he died. The depth of his hatred for them sometimes surprised even him.