Souljacker Page 16

  With a groan, the man shook his head. “I think I’ll be okay. He cut me, but I don’t think it’s in a vital area. Who are you?”

  “You can call me Lily. What’s your name? Why was he after you?” It was then that I noticed the splotch of blood spreading over the front of his cape. “You’re hurt. Come, let me help you.”

  He started to protest but then folded over in pain. I grabbed hold of his elbow and draped his arm around my shoulders. I wrapped my other arm around his waist and half carried, half dragged him back to the tavern door. As quietly as I could, I managed to get him inside.

  There was nobody in the kitchen as far as I could tell, so I slipped inside and found some old rags that looked clean. I couldn’t carry fresh water along with him up to my room, so once again, I half lifted him and eased past the snoring guard. I managed to get him up to my room without alerting anybody and, dropping him into the chair, I locked the door behind us and pulled off my cloak.

  By now, he seemed to almost be unconscious. His head was lolling back, and his eyes looked glazed over. I untied his cloak and threw it back to reveal his blood-stained tunic. There was no way to ease it off of him without aggravating whatever wound was under there, so I used my dagger to rip away the cloth. As I peeled the bloody material away, a vicious wound came into sight. It was jagged, trailing down one side, but luckily it seemed to have missed any vital organs. He was bleeding profusely, however, and that alone could do him in.

  I was used to sewing up wounds; I had been on my own for so long that anytime I got hurt I was prepared to take care of myself. I kept a needle and thread in my pack at all times, along with healing salve, and a powder that the Fae used to prevent infection. We were miles ahead of the humans in terms of medicine, and though at times our people had offered to share our medicine, most mortals viewed us as demons, in league with the creature they called Satan. And while we Fae all knew demons existed, humans had no clue as to the reality of the situation.

  I used the cloth that I had dried my feet with to soak up the blood that was still pouring from his side. After I could see the wound more clearly, I shook the anti-infection powder over the gash, then threaded a needle and began to sew the layers of skin together. Eleven stitches later, the bleeding had slowed to an ooze and I rubbed some of my healing salve on it. Then I used one of the clean rags that I had stolen from the kitchen and tore it into strips, tying it together to wrap around his waist in a makeshift bandage.

  By now, he was starting to come around. I hunted through my pack and pulled out a small flask. Holding it to his lips, I made him drink until he sputtered. The brandy was strong—it was a Fae brew—and brought him around in no time flat. It would also help against the pain, a double plus.

  “So, you want to tell me what was going on out there with that demon?”

  His eyes grew wide. I noticed they were a brilliant emerald green. His shock of red hair fell to his shoulders. He couldn’t be more than twenty-three or twenty-four. A full-grown man, yes, but young in the ways of my world.

  “You saved my life. I don’t know how to thank you.” He started to lean forward, then groaned, easing back against the chair. “How bad is it? Will I live?”

  “Oh, you’ll live, all right. And while it’s not life-threatening, I wouldn’t plan on running any races if I were you. What’s your name? And why were you fighting the demon?”

  He let out a long sigh. “They call me Whisky Danvers. I’m from Scotland, and that demon is the bearer of a family curse. It’s probably still after me, girl, so you’d best be careful as long as you’re anywhere near me. The first-born son of each generation never escapes the curse.”

  “What curse is that?” Curses were tricky things, especially if they were placed by demons. They weren’t easy to break and family hexes were known to continue for generation after generation, quenched only when the bearer chose to retract the hex.

  “Long ago, one of my ancestors enslaved that demon to do his bidding. But he didn’t do a very good job of controlling it, and the demon managed to break free. He cursed our family line. Any first-born male in our family tree, especially those of us who have a natural ability for magic, are singled out for destruction.”

  I blinked. “That’s a harsh curse. And it’s still affecting your family?”

  “You would think the ability would burn itself out with so much death, but so far, it’s as strong as it ever was, lass. It passes down through the father.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I turned twenty-six three days ago, the age that triggers the curse. I have a wife and a son.” He hung his head. “He will be afflicted, as well, being first born.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “When I realized I was coming to the age where the demon would appear, I headed out. I left them behind. I didn’t want them to see me die.” Whisky sounded so resigned that it made my heart ache. Curses and hexes were horrible things…I knew too well just how dangerous these powers could be.

  He squinted, leaning forward. The pain hit him again and he groaned and fell back against the chair. “Aye, that’s a pain. So who are you? Are you a witch? Don’t worry, I’m no oath breaker—no warlock who will turn you over to the witch hunters. My family stays well clear of the Inquisitors.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not a witch, not in the way you would think. My name is Lily, and my bloodline goes back to the Sidhe. I am one of the night folk, one of the unseen.”

  His eyes grew wide. “I knew you existed. My family has known of the Fae, always. We do not have a Bean Sidhe attached to us, but we know of the kelpie and of the corpse candles, and of the black dogs. What are you, Lily?”

  I smiled at him. “I’m a succubus. Many of your people would think us demons, but we are actually part of the Fae.”

  Before Whisky could say a word, there was a sound behind us and I turned to see the demon appear in the room. I reached for my dagger, which I had placed on the table, but the demon held out his hand and the dagger spun across the room to land in the wall.

  “Lily, move. Don’t get in the way. This is my fight.” Whisky struggled, trying to stand, but he was too weak.

  I whirled, facing the demon. “Don’t kill him! He’s never done anything to you. His ancestor’s argument with you is not his fight. Why do you continue this feud?”

  The demon laughed and shrugged. “Because it’s what I do. You are not mortal. You are of the Fae folk.” He stopped, then sniffed in my direction. “I smell you. I smell your sex and your passion. I’ve heard of your kind. You’re a firebrand in the bed.” The lust in his voice was thick.

  I suddenly realized how I could get Whisky out of the situation. True, it wasn’t my fight. But I was tired of death and hexes and curses and all the dark things in the night. It wasn’t often that I got the chance to save a life, rather than take one. Here was a chance to make up for some of the damage I had done.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You spare him and his son, you allow them to live a long and healthy life—longer than most. And I’ll let you taste my fire. You give me some of your chi, and I spread my legs and give you a taste of what I am.”

  The demon laughed, long and low. “I might take you up on that.” And then, he glanced over at Whisky. “You really think he’s worth it? You have no idea what he’s like, and yet you offer to save the creature?”

  I nodded, motioning for Whisky to stay silent. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Signed and sealed.”

  The night was rough. Demons weren’t usually gentle, and this demon had a lot of pent-up anger and desire. But finally when he spent himself, and I rolled away, I considered myself lucky. I was getting away with a few bruises and scratches. The sex had been violent and ugly, but I was able to put my emotions on hold and feed at the same time. His chi was potent, though it left me with a case of emotional hiccups. Not too bad for a romp with a scaly freak, but I wouldn’t be repeating the act anytime soon.

  I hurried over to Whisky’s side. He had fallen aslee
p, but his fever had broken and I could tell he was on the mend.

  I turned to the demon. “You will keep your deal?”

  He nodded. “On my word, his son will live. And this one? He will live a long and healthy life, far longer than most humans could ever dream of.” He suddenly smiled, and I had the feeling that he was about to renege on the deal. “But, succubus, note that I didn’t say what form he would live his life in. You wanted a pet; you’ve got one.”

  And with a flash, the demon vanished.

  I turned as Whisky let out a shout. He jolted to a sitting position, then a moment later, a large cat sat in his place. I had heard of Asian leopard cats, though most humans hadn’t, and that’s exactly what Whisky looked like, only smaller.

  And that was the end of that.

  Whisky never again took human form, and I kept him with me. I wasn’t sure just how much he remembered, but most of the time he seemed content enough, and we kept each other company as the years rolled on. Sometimes I wondered about his family and how they were. I finally looked them up without telling him, only to find out that his wife had quickly found herself a rich man and remarried, and his son had turned into a spoiled brat. It seemed kinder to leave him in the dark. I told Whisky that I found out his wife had entered a convent and that his children had moved on and were fostering with wealthy strangers overseas. I knew it would hurt him too much to know the truth, and a gentle lie seemed to be the best way to ease his mind and heart.

  “And that is the story of how Whisky came to be with me. He’s really a human sorcerer, trapped in the body of a cat. And he’s been with me for six hundred years. I trust him and I trust his instincts.” I hadn’t mentioned finding his family—after all, Whisky could hear and understand me and, after all these years, I still had never told him the truth.

  Marsh and Archer both stared at me, then at Whisky. Neither said a word. Archer continued to eat his pizza, and Marsh simply shook his head. Meanwhile, I finished my pizza and then, giving Whisky another pat on the back, began to tell Archer what had happened. And why I was going out of business.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Archer listened as I laid out everything that had happened that day. After I was done, he shook his head. “So, how are you taking this?” He seemed more concerned about my feelings than about the specifics of what I had told him.

  Even though it had made me blush, I had included what Wynter had said about him. Since he had chosen to entangle himself in my life, he deserved to know what he was getting into.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel. Today feels like I stumbled into a field of land mines and the explosions just keep going off. I feel horrible about my mother. I feel conflicted about my father. For so long, I’ve wondered who he was and if I would like him if I met him. I don’t remember much about him, and now I feel guilty for ever wanting to. He murdered my mother and I’ve wasted centuries wishing I could know who he was.”

  “You feel like you betrayed her, don’t you?” Marsh suddenly started as Whisky jumped up on the chair where he was sitting. Now he was superimposed over the cat’s form and it was disconcerting, to say the least. As he stared down at his stomach where Whisky curled into a ball on the seat, a look of understanding came over his face. “I just realized something!” He sounded delighted and confused at the same time.

  “What is it?”

  “I know who summoned me.” He continued to stare at the cat.

  “You don’t mean Whisky? It couldn’t be, could it? He doesn’t even have opposable thumbs.”

  “Are you sure about this?” I glanced from Marsh’s face to Whisky’s and back again. Whisky gave me a slow blink and I swear, the cat smiled.

  Marsh nodded. “I felt a ripple of energy when you asked, and it came from where he’s sitting. It was Whisky, all right.”

  I slowly got out of my chair and walked over to Marsh. Picking up Mr. Whiskers—which meant reaching into Marsh’s image—I held the cat up and stared into his face. He stared back, his eyes glowing.

  “How did you do that? I didn’t know you could still practice magic. You never told me.”

  On one hand, I felt ridiculous having this conversation. Whisky hadn’t practiced magic since the day he was turned. And yet…and yet…Marsh insisted. And who else could it be? I had suspected Dani, but now that I thought about it, she didn’t know enough about Marsh in order to summon him. She didn’t know where he had died, she didn’t know about our last moments together and, to be honest, I wasn’t even sure she really understood the full nature of the relationship we had had. But Whisky had been there. He had seen everything except those last days up in the cabin. Those, I had told him about, once the shock of Marsh’s death was over.

  “It was you,” I said in a soft voice. “Somehow you managed to summon Marsh’s spirit here. I wish you could tell me how you did it. I wish you could tell me why.”

  “We know why,” Marsh said. “He wants me to watch over you. He knows what danger you’re in and he wants to do whatever he can. Now that I know his story, I understand. That cat loves you like he’s never loved anybody.”

  I jerked my gaze away from the cat. “Whisky and I were never in a relationship —”

  “You didn’t have to be,” Archer said. “Marsh is right. Whisky adores you. Remember, there are many types of love. You’ve taken care of Whisky since that first night you found him out back in the alley. You helped heal him, then you scared away the demon who was trying to curse him. You saved his son from the curse. The fact that you weren’t able to prevent the demon from turning him into a cat? Not your fault, and he knows that, too. The truth is, you’re probably the only reason he’s still alive. He’s returning the favor.”

  The magnitude of what both Marsh and Archer were saying hit me. It had been close to six hundred years since that night in Cornwall, when Whisky and I first met. At first I had been very aware that I had been traveling with a sorcerer in cat form. But as the years and decades and centuries raced by, it was easy to forget that Mr. Whiskers was anything but a dear and constant companion. I realized that if I lost him, I would lose the oldest, dearest friend I’d ever had.

  I quietly leaned over and set Whisky on the ground. He flashed me a satisfied look and wandered over to his food dish, where he began to eat. As I returned to my chair, another thought occurred to me.

  “Archer, now that you know that Whisky was turned into a cat by a demon’s curse, and given the fact that you are a demon yourself…” I paused, not wanting to ask but feeling like I owed Whisky the chance of a normal life again.

  Archer let out a soft laugh. “You’re as transparent as a crystal. Unfortunately, the answer is no. I cannot reverse another demon’s curse. And even if I could, I wouldn’t, and I’ll tell you why. While the original demon could reverse his hex—if he did? Chances are Whisky would immediately die. Sorcerer or not, it sounds like he was of human blood when you met him. Humans are not meant to live six hundred years, not without magical help. The only reason he’s still alive is because of the hex. The moment the magic breaks, so will the lengthened lifespan. I’m sorry, but if you want Mr. Whiskers to stay alive, he’ll have to remain in cat form.”

  So much for that. I glanced over at Whisky. “I tried, bub.”

  He yawned so wide I could have seen his tonsils, if he’d had any. I got the distinct impression Whisky was okay with being a cat. I still wanted to know how he had managed to summon Marsh, but at least we had resolved the mystery. In a way, knowing that much made me feel better. It gave us a little control over the situation. And control was precisely something that felt like it was slipping out of my hands.

  “So, on to the more serious subjects. How do I destroy the Souljacker? It shouldn’t be too hard to lure him out, but I’ve never gone after a vampire before. And then there’s the matter of my career. At least Tricia Jones is getting her revenge. I wish it were enough to put a stop to whatever she’s planning, but Wynter warned me not to count on it.
” I still had a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Lily…I recognize that look.” Marsh shook a finger at me. “Don’t you go doing anything stupid. When we were together, you always were out to make people pay for their slights.”

  “I know, and yes, I want revenge.” It was true, I was all about payback when someone messed with me or someone I cared about. But reality sank in. “I can’t do anything, can I? If I do respond, I’ll be pegged as a total bitch. Tricia’s a widow and I’m…well…in her eyes and her friends’ eyes, I’m the…whore in this little drama. I hate that word, but I know that’s how she and her friends see me. I might as well face the truth. She’s got me over a barrel.”

  “Don’t ever call yourself that, Lily. The blame belongs with Tygur. He made the choice to step out on her. Or really, she should blame the Souljacker. He’s the one who murdered her husband. But never let me hear you call yourself that again, okay?” Archer reached over and tilted my chin up, cupping it gently in his hands. With a smile, he wiped away my bitterness.

  “I promise. I really don’t think of myself as that but it’s hard when you’ve got an entire community against you. I haven’t felt this way since…since before I came off the open road and decided to settle into city life. That was a good hundred years ago.”

  “We’ll deal with the Weres later. Right now, we need to address the Souljacker,” Archer said. “I did some hunting around but I have no idea where he’s hiding. I’m wondering if his father had anything to do with his escape—if so, maybe that’s where Charles is hiding out.”

  A nasty thought crossed my mind. “You aren’t putting yourself in danger, are you? If he does have help from his father…the man is extremely well connected, as we’ve seen.”

  Archer shrugged. “To be honest, if I were human? I’d be scared out of my mind that someone might catch onto what I’m doing. But I’m a demon. It’s not so easy to take me on when I’m angry, and I have always just left if things got too dicey. But never mind that.” He paused. “Are Nate and Dani coming over? It seems to me that they might want to be in on this.”