Black Widow Demon (30 page)

“We don’t have much time,” Justice said to Willow. “Get rid of the other one, too.”

The story he intended to spin was that Willow and the young assassin had been ambushed by Raven and her companion, and the youth had been killed, along with Siege, protecting Willow and Justice.

No one at the temple would dare question the word of a Godseeker. And by the time they brought in someone who would, Justice would have his ten assassins and be well on his way.

…

The village where Blade led them had been a flourishing mining town in his youth. Now its three mine shafts, visible past the rows of sagging houses, gaped like blackened eyes. No one had taken the time to board them over. No warning signs had been posted that Blade could see either, so he didn’t know if the mines were dangerous or simply no longer workable.

He did not know what he felt in this moment. When he had left the mountains he’d never expected to return here. All these towns and villages had lived in his memories, frozen in time. He had not been prepared for reality.

The town where he’d been raised was situated no more than a day’s walk to the south. Would his hometown be long gone as well? Did it matter to him since he had not left it on good terms?

Raven slipped her fingers into his and gave them a tight squeeze as if she understood how difficult this was for him. No doubt she did. She understood him better than he did himself.

“Remember that these towns come and go,” she said. “I’m sure all these people are happily settled in new lives already. Some may even be in Goldrush.”

Had his initial reaction been concern for the former residents, as she seemed to think? Was that what caused this gnawing pain beneath his ribs? Or was he simply caught off guard by the discovery that a childhood that had obsessed his memories was most likely gone forever?

He ran the pad of his thumb across the palm of her hand. Normally, he would have preferred to face the past on his own. Now, he could not express how grateful he was to have her with him. But it was the present that should concern him the most.

“Hopefully, one of these houses will be fit to live in or can at least be repaired quickly.” He looked at the sky. It had gone a dark, gunmetal gray, its swollen belly hanging so low it seemed almost to sweep the ground. Flakes of snow darted across the empty space between where they stood and a few ramshackle outbuildings. “When the weather shifts, I’ll see about getting supplies for the winter.”

When they explored the village further they discovered that while the mines had been left open to the elements, the houses had been neatly secured for the most part. Blade pried wood planks off the door of one vacant house that looked solid.

“Wait here,” he said to Raven.

The door hinges shrieked as he pushed against the weathered paneling and entered. The one-level house was not a large one. The main room served as a combined cooking, living, and sleeping area. Two smaller ones at the back were used for storage. A drain in the floor of one room indicated it was also used for laundry and bathing.

Blade’s skin prickled. The house felt as if it had not been empty long, but there were no signs of recent occupation. When he examined the hand pump at the small sink in the cooking area, the pump was unprimed. Beneath the sink, a dusty pan, which would have once held water for priming the pump, was dry, with a white residue crusting it as if the contents had evaporated over a long period of time. There were no footprints on the plain wooden floor other than his, and the bunks along the walls were stripped, empty, and coated in dust.

He rubbed the back of his neck. His instincts were good. Why did a house that did not look as if it had been occupied for some time, make him feel as if someone had recently been in it?

Because he smelled fresh-cut wood.

“Blade! Is everything all right?” he heard Raven call out, distracting him. She did not sound panicked, but an edge to her voice had him moving at once to the door.

She waited for him as he stepped into the biting wind. He saw no anxiety on her face, and nothing around her to suggest she had any cause for concern, yet he knew something had made her cautious.

“Behind me, to my right,” she said quietly.

He saw it at once. A shadow pressed against the side of a building where there should not be one.

That was why the house had not felt empty. A spawn was moving in shadow through the village. He moved closer to Raven and bent his head at an angle so his lips could not be seen. “Did you sense anything familiar about whoever it is? Were you able to tell if it’s Laurel or one of her men?”

“No.”

He debated what to do, not wanting Raven in danger, but she was not delicate, and she would not be caught by surprise. He had to start trusting her to look out for herself since someday she would need to.

“We’ll get closer then.” He moved his head so that his mouth was no longer obscured from the spawn’s view, and his lips could be read. “This house has potential,” he said without raising his voice, “but I want to check a few more first. Let’s look at these ones over here before making a decision.”

He crossed what had once been a street, but was now overgrown by weeds and lanky brush, to a forlorn house with a sagging roof next to the false shadow.

Raven caught his hand. “It’s one of Laurel’s companions,” she said. “He’s afraid of you. Laurel and the others aren’t too far away.”

Blade raised his voice. “We know you’re there, and who you are,” he said. “You may as well show yourself.”

Raven’s eyes reproached him. He had not sounded as welcoming as she thought he should be, but he did not feel welcoming, and he shrugged his shoulders.

Nothing happened for a long moment. Then, the shadow gained substance and materialized into the youngest of Laurel’s companions, the one who had been so taken with Raven. His clothes were caked in dirt and covered in shavings, as if he’d been cutting kindling, and he appeared exhausted.

Blade searched his memory for a name and could not find one.

Raven had not been as remiss. “Hello, Walker.” The smile she gave him was bright and friendly.

Blade did not miss the effect that smile had on the other man. It dazzled him so that his response to her greeting was incoherent. His expression when he looked at her, however, was not difficult for Blade to read.

Raven’s eyes dropped, her smile fading to uncertainty as she read it too, and she glanced uneasily at Blade as she picked up on his irritation. While she was used to the thoughts men had about her, he was not, and she worried over his reaction. He rested a hand on Raven’s shoulder and moved between her and Walker, sending a clear message of protection.

Walker eyed him warily. “We were here first.”

“There’s no reason we can’t all stay here,” Raven said. “The houses seem solid enough, and we can’t wander the mountains forever.” She looked at Blade. “Right?”

He faced a conundrum. He did not want to be responsible for the others. Neither did he wish to share Raven with them. He would only have her for a few short months, and if she had others to occupy her attention, she would soon discover that he was not the best choice.

And yet there was safety in numbers, and these people had skills that could prove valuable. They were not interested in establishing or defending their rights in the world, only in avoiding detection and being left in peace. But he did not believe they could defend themselves, or Raven, if they were discovered.

“Go get the others,” he said to Walker. “We need to talk.”

…

The problem, if any, was going to be Blade. They all had to work together, and he made it plain he did not wish to do so. He had not been the same toward her since they left the goddess boundary. Something had happened that he wasn’t telling her, and it made her uneasy.

But somehow, Raven had to convince Laurel to trust him, to prove that he meant them no harm. It was difficult to do, though, with him glowering at them all.

They were gathered as a group in the house that Raven and Blade had chosen. He had cleaned out the chimney and lit a fire in the hearth so that the main room was warm, and she had tidied it as best she could.

She could tell the house had once been lovely. The previous owners had invested considerable time and effort in the finer details, from the oak wainscoting and hand-carved cupboards, to the pretty, pale paint on the walls. A fireplace and indoor water pump were luxuries Raven had sorely missed. When she had more time, soap and water would do wonders. Until then, she was content simply to sleep indoors.

Blade had selected a plain wooden chair by the door and sat silently in it. The other men remained equally uncommunicative, allowing Laurel to speak for them.

“We’ll have to scavenge what we need,” Laurel said. “The men and I can get in and out of villages unobserved. But I’d hate to steal from neighbors and draw attention to us.”

“If we have to steal to survive, then that’s what we’ll do,” Blade said. “We won’t take any more than we need and never too much from any one place. We’re not going to take from people who might go hungry because of theft.”

“If we all work together, we’ll make it through the winter,” Raven said. “There are only six of us. No one will miss what we take if we’re careful. In the spring, maybe we can repay them somehow.”

“How would we do that?” one of the men asked. “More importantly, why would we want to? What have the people in the Godseeker Mountains ever done for spawn?” He sounded tired and bitter, and Raven couldn’t blame him. No one had stepped up to help her when she’d needed it most, either. Except for Blade.

He was not helping her now, however.

“We aren’t going to prove anyone right about us,” Raven said. “We’re going to live our lives the way we know we should. The goddesses may not favor us, but we don’t need their guidance. Decency isn’t something that only they can teach.” She spoke to Blade. “What if the mines are still workable, but on a smaller scale? Would it be worth our while to settle here for a few years, perhaps even permanently? It’s not as if we have anywhere else to go. We can’t run forever.”

“Four men can’t work these mines,” Blade said.

Raven was not deterred by his pessimism. “Roam could bring more,” she reminded him.

“The Temple of Immortal Right is in our backyard,” Blade said. “This isn’t a place where more than a few spawn can live in peace for any length of time. Remaining here undetected for the winter is going to be difficult enough for the six of us, and even then it’s unlikely.”

“We can’t go undetected forever no matter where we are,” Raven said. “It’s inevitable that people like us will begin to band together. What we need are neighbors who’ll become allies.”

“Allies, here?” the third man said. He settled back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “I don’t believe it’s possible.”

At least the men had all found something they could agree on, because none of them thought it likely. Even Laurel appeared skeptical, so Raven did not pursue it.

That did not mean she had given up. If people with demon blood wished to survive in the mortal world, they would have to learn to live peacefully with everyone else. She had said she would offer help to all mortals who needed it, half demon and non-demon alike, and she meant to keep her word.

She could do nothing about her own demon blood. She could, however, do what she knew to be right and encourage others to do the same.

…

The death of their leader was a shock to the temple’s residents even though he was an old man. They were suspicious as to the manner in which it transpired.

And this meeting with Siege’s replacement was not going as Justice had planned. The second-in-command was not so young as to be unseasoned, and not old enough to remember the extent to which Godseekers should be respected. He also appeared to be well informed as to the regard Siege had held for Justice. His manner was not as deferential as Justice would have liked, particularly from someone so inferior to him.

They sat in the library, Justice in front of the heavy desk, while the young assassin named Armor occupied Siege’s chair as if already accustomed to it. It seemed Siege had prepared for all eventualities, even down to choosing his own replacement, and he trained his men well.

The young man had pale, lashless eyes that rarely blinked and thin hair so colorless it gave an illusion of transparency.

“We’re supposed to take the word of a woman with no known origin for what happened to two of our men,” Armor said to Justice. “One of whom was our leader.”

“No,” Justice replied. “I expect you to take my word, not hers.” He was not used to being questioned, particularly by someone so young and inexperienced, and it irritated him almost as much as Siege’s opposition had. At least he and Siege had held a similar standing.

This boy was nobody.

Armor’s polite attitude gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. “I’m sure your word is good. However, Siege issued a request for neighboring Godseekers, ones I know very well, to come here and help plan a course of action, and I don’t intend to countermand that. We’ll wait for their input on the circumstances surrounding Siege’s death, too.”

“While you wait, the spawn responsible for the deaths of two trained assassins will escape.” Justice met the arrogant youth’s pale eyes with a cold stare of his own. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go after my stepdaughter myself. When I return, you can answer to the Godseekers for your lack of support.”

Armor frowned, and Justice knew he had won this first confrontation.

The acquiescence was grudging. “I’ll give you four men.”

Four was not the number Justice had requested, but it would have to do. Someday, this disrespectful young nobody would answer for opposing him.

“Very well,” Justice said. “I have several in mind. I’ll speak with them now.”