Jessa Slade - Forged of Shadows

Liam winced, though he couldn’t decide which was worse, Ecco’s insensitivity or the clear picture in his mind of Jilly’s reaction to Jonah’s expedience. “Armageddon,” he murmured.

“Damn straight,” Ecco said. “And while you’re thinking Armageddon, you should also ask yourself why Corvus and the djinni both desire poor deluded Dory of the dreadful decision making. Can’t be true love alone.”

“His better half.” Jonah gave an ugly laugh. “You’re offering marital counseling to a soulless, brain-damaged husk and the bottomless evil jerking him around and the drug-addict prostitute they tag teamed? We’re the only thing standing between a rogue djinn-man and the rest of the world. If we fall here—”

Liam kept his voice soft, with none of Corvus’s theatrics. “No. We make a stand.”

Ecco nodded, but Jonah looked unconvinced. “Is that the leader of the Chicago league speaking? Or a mate who fears betraying his bond?”

Liam straightened to look Jonah hard in the eye. “I say it.”

Jonah inclined his head.

But the question gnawed at Liam. His qualifications had always been suspect. Now there was just an obvious reason to doubt him.

Again Corvus bellowed, “Where is she?”

Liam pitched his own demon to carry his voice. “She is not yours.”

“You have yours already, talya. Don’t thieve.”

Liam smiled bitterly. “As you have stolen Dory’s soul? Stolen all those souls?”

“Released,” Corvus cried. “Freed as I have been.”

Ecco huffed thoughtfully. “Ever notice how ‘evil’ is ‘love’ spelled backward with one different letter? It’s like we’re just one fucked-up spell checker away from eternal doom.”

Corvus lifted his arms, and the djinni rose above him. The poisonous yellow edges of it bled into the rain so it seemed to fill half the street, rising as high as the second story of the warehouse.

“Oh shit,” Ecco said. “That’s no good.”

Jilly sat beside Dory’s bed. Her sister twisted restlessly until the sheets wound around her like a burial shroud. On her sweat-beaded brow, the solvo glistened. Jilly wanted to tear it out, never mind the violence.

Out in the hall, the thud of boots distracted her. Harsh male voices called to one another in low tones, as if they didn’t want to disturb her.

Too late. She was officially disturbed.

She rose from the bedside and looked down at her sister. Too late indeed. She wanted to weep, but her eyes were dry, as if the night had carved her down to bare, ether-etched bone. She touched Dory’s cheek gently and went to the door.

The talyan were returning, pounding up the stairs from the basement, laden with weapons.

Archer had two in each fist. She stopped him. “Hand it over.”

He paused as the other talyan rushed past, and gave her a superior sniff.

She waggled her fingers in a give- it-here motion. He tossed her the mace.

She hefted the short-handled weapon, admired the glint of light off the dozens of steel points. “It goes with my hair.”

Archer grinned. “Yeah. Come on, then.”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m going to find Liam.”

He nodded. “What you gotta do. He’s up top.” Then he was gone with the others, heading for the front walk, where the talyan would meet the enemy head-on.

Leaving her to realize that had always been her problem, doing what others said she had to do. She and authority had never gotten along, and fucked-up fate was just another force telling her how fast to dance.

But somewhere along the way, she’d started believing in fate.

Maybe about the time she learned demons were real. So what other mystical, magical powers of the universe had she been refusing to let sway her?

She needed to find Liam. She’d meet her own demons head-on too.

Liam stiffened as the first of his talyan burst from the warehouse to confront Corvus’s army. “Let’s get down there.”

“Wait a minute,” Jonah cautioned. “Once you’re in the thick of it, you won’t have this overview. See what they’re going to do, how they’re going to fight. Then go down.”

“They’ll fight like demons, I bet,” Ecco said. “I’m on it.” He turned to go, then rocked back on his heels, jolting Liam. “Oh, baby.”

Liam glanced over his shoulder and froze.

When avenging angels of the cupid size fell, they could only hope they looked half as badass as his reluctant tyro.

From spiked hair to spiked mace to the wide stance of her booted feet, Jilly exuded warrior maiden. Not maiden, his body reminded him with sudden inappropriateness. Those small but steady hands had been wrapped around him not so long ago.

He cleared his throat. “I thought you were with your sister.”

“I can’t help her.” Jilly raised her chin. “But I can help you.”

Liam stiffened. “Whatever you’re proposing—” And he could guess, considering her purposeful grip on the mace.

“Okay, then, we’re going.” Ecco hauled Jonah behind him. “Maybe we’ll leave a few malice, just for fun.”

Liam ignored them. He couldn’t look away from the gold and amethyst sparkle of her eyes, the diamonds of misted rain in her hair. How could he stand beside her when he was a starving ex-blacksmith who’d only worked in iron and steel, base and dull? And even that had been a long time ago. These dark nights, he was master only of blood and ichor.

She shifted the mace to one hand and let it swing down to her side. “The league needs us .”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. There wasn’t time for that either. “I don’t know what I have to give.” Not anymore.

“Me,” she said simply.

His bones turned to rain. He held himself straight by will alone. “I wouldn’t give him Dory. Corvus won’t get you either.”

“I’m more than he can handle.” She bit her lip, and the carnelian flush made him wish he’d been the cause. “Together, we might be more than he can survive.”

So this would bring her to him—violence and the promise of revenge. He supposed he should be glad it was so simple and clear. The ravager in him roused willingly to face the tenebrae, but a deeper impulse remained to take her hand and run, somewhere the league didn’t matter because evil didn’t exist. He couldn’t guess where that might be, since he’d never known such a place, even as a boy. So he imagined his big, ugly bed, minus the voyeur cherubim. Wrapped in her fierce embrace, body and soul, he’d take her hand and ask her, would she have him now? With life and death, heaven and hell, damnation and salvation out of the way, would she still have him?

Here in the world, though, evil still existed, and gave no quarter for such irrelevant questions. Plus, she was shivering in the cold rain, the diamond droplets melting into the blue streaks of her hair.

How could she not hate him for making her a pawn in this war? She’d spent all her life refusing to be confined by fate, yet her possession had been inescapable, and he was the figurehead for that damnation. He wouldn’t have blamed her for rebelling. Instead, she’d thrown herself into his fray with all her might. He admired her fortitude, needed her help, and had no defense against her touch, even when she reached out to him with the end of the world in her eyes. He’d never break free of her. And he’d never want to.

Besides, he couldn’t stand to see her cold. He pulled her under his arm and wrapped the edge of his duster around her. Her skin was chiller than the metal of her weapon.

“Nice mace,” he murmured.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “No, really, compared to what we’re going to do, it’s nothing.” She tilted her face up, her gaze fixed on his. “Kiss me.”