Paula Altenburg - Black Widow Demon

Creed stood beside the kitchen table in Raven’s house, packing his belongings while she watched. She sat on the bed with her legs drawn up and her chin propped on her knees. A single ray of sunshine caught her black curls and turned their thin, coppery-red streaks to fire. The room was bright and warm and cheery, and while she did not seem happy enough to please him, she was not unhappy either. She and Blade had a few things to discuss, he was sure, and his presence here hindered that, too.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said.

Creed tightened the last drawstring on his pack. He could not afford to stay any longer. There were more problems cropping up in the world for the Godseekers and assassins to discuss and address. The fate of the demon child had been appalling and could not be blamed entirely on demons. Mortals owned an equal part in this by abandoning children they did not want.

Laws could no longer ignore the innocent. Not if they did not want the innocent to become the vengeful.

But he loved Raven and had watched over her for her entire life. It pained him to walk away again, even though this time he knew she was in much better hands, because she would never again be his to protect. He would not need to worry about her or plan on returning for her. Blade was now responsible for her happiness as well as her life. She didn’t need Creed anymore. Maybe if she knew of their true relationship, things would be different. But it had always seemed safer for her if she did not know of it.

As he looked at her, he wondered if she did know, and if that was why she clung to him when it was Blade she should be turning to.

He set the pack on the floor. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her. “What I am?”

She smiled a little. “I’ve always known who and what you are. You don’t hide your emotions very well. Everything you feel is right there for me to find.”

“Then you should know that I can do more good by working with the assassins and Godseekers than I can here. The world is changing, and we all have to adapt. The problem won’t go away.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like your leaving,” Raven said.

“I’m not the one you should be worrying about.” Creed let his love for her surface to take the sting from his next words. “I know how men like Blade think. I know his reputation. He’s not used to taking responsibility for other people. Protecting them is a lot harder than killing—and a lot more worrisome. You’re the only one who knows what he feels, even better than he does.” Creed paused for a beat, letting his words sink in. “He’s not searching for happiness. He’s looking for purpose. Justice is gone, and in a few months, the Godseekers’ position will be clear. Even if it’s not what we hope for, there’ll be others here to help defend you, even better than he can. You need to give him a reason to stay. If you don’t, then come spring, he’ll be gone.”

“He has plenty of reasons,” Raven said.

But Creed read the doubt in her eyes. He donned his coat and boots, ruffled her hair, and kissed her cheek, then gathered his belongings and left her to think about what he’d said.

…

While Creed and Raven said their good-byes in private, Blade split firewood behind the house, swinging his ax in a steady rhythm. He did not want to intrude on their final moments together.

Laurel had not yet emerged from shadow, although Walker, who had gone in search of her, seemed to think she was healing. That had been enough to satisfy Raven, taking some of the haunted shadows from her eyes. He expected Creed’s leaving to affect her, but Blade was determined to find a way to ease the nightmares she suffered over what had happened to Justice in the demon boundary. He had not protected her when she’d needed it most. That failure continued to gnaw at him.

As Blade brought the ax down again with another heavy thud , the spot between his shoulders began to itch. With a casual movement he shifted his grip on the smooth handle into a throwing hold, dropping his knees and drawing back his arm as he turned. He recognized the boy standing a few yards away from him barely in time to check the release of his weapon.

“It’s me—Roam!” the boy cried, flinging his hands in the air.

Blade rested the ax head on the chopping block and leaned on the long handle. “What brings you here?”

“Raven,” the boy said. “Is she okay?”

Roam’s face was pinched and tired, and he looked much older than he had a few short weeks ago. Blade thought it likely Roam had not fared as well with other spawn as he’d hoped the boy might.

“She’s fine,” he said. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

The boy’s shoulders sagged as if an enormous weight had been lifted from them. “A few days ago, she sent out distress signals that could be heard as far away as the Borderlands. I came as fast as I could.”

Blade had not forgotten that Roam had been the first half demon to find her when she was suffering the effects of the goldthief bite, or that he was not the only one who could track her that way. “How strong were the signals? How many more do you think will be able to locate her?”

“I’m not sure. Her cries didn’t last long, and not everyone who heard them will try to follow them. They’ll either be too afraid or simply indifferent.” Roam stuffed his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders to his ears against the wind filtering through the trees. “What happened here?” Blade told him, and Roam grew thoughtful. “Do you think the assassins will be back?”

“Yes.” Blade hoped the Godseeker and the others would speak on their behalf, as Creed had promised, and that some sort of peaceful arrangement could be reached. Even though Blade had not been with them long he remembered Armor from his days in the temple, and despite the fact that a Godseeker had been killed, Blade thought the new leader could be reasoned with. Creed would have until spring to try and do so. “We need to prepare for the worst, but it’s possible they’ll be willing to listen and leave this place alone. It’s better to work with them than against them.”

Roam absorbed that, his face serious, then seemed to reach some sort of conclusion.

“Can I stay with you?” he asked. “Just for the winter?”

There were half a dozen villages in the mountains such as this one. If Roam stayed here, eventually he would bring others. But before Blade could open his mouth to respond, Raven interrupted.

“You can stay as long as you like.” She approached them from around the side corner of the house, a warm smile on her lips and in her eyes. Blade’s ribs squeezed his lungs at the sight of her, and her smile shifted to him. With her blazing blue eyes and gleaming skin, she looked far more goddess than demon to him.

Her stepfather’s death had not harmed her. Being half demon did not diminish her. It brought out all that was best of her mortality. Blade was so ordinary by comparison. What had he done in his life to deserve someone such as her?

Even Roam appeared dazed. “I’ll be no trouble, I promise,” he said to her.

“Of course you won’t. Will he, Blade?”

She turned to him with the sun and the moon and the promise of every hope he’d ever had shining from her eyes, and any thoughts other than of her left his head.

“No,” he managed to say.

“If you want to come inside, I’ll find you something to eat,” Raven said to the boy. “After that, we’ll introduce you to the others.”

She gave a little wave of her hand to Blade, then led Roam indoors.

Blade went back to splitting wood, and his ability to think returned to him.

Other spawn would be coming. It was inevitable, just as she had predicted. He did not like feeling inferior to them or want to seem that way in her eyes. He had spent too many years as a cripple, fighting every day to prove, if only to himself, that he was no less of a man because of it. He would not spend the rest of his life trying to prove himself worthy to others. Not even for Raven.