TWENTY

THE Charon left the glittering banks of the Hudson behind. Talia tensed her body against the deep vibration of its engine and the choppy bounce of its progress on the water. Her nerves already had her stomach roiling. She couldn’t afford the extra encouragement of the boat’s movement. At least the speed of their passage brushed away the onboard smell of decay and whipped her hair in a sweet wind of revitalizing water spray.

They angled into dark waters spotted by the gleam of other boats, small and large. In spite of the considerable haze of the city’s light pollution, the sky above was brilliantly starcrusted, as if heaven had finally brought its attention to the goings-on of Earth.

Faster, faster, Talia urged.

The shoreline fell behind. All hope of safety dimmed as the lights grew smaller. They traveled into an ocean of rippling darkness, as if toward the end of the world. She sought no refuge now, no hiding place from monsters or herself. All that was in her past. Running away was not an option, not when everything that mattered—good and bad—lay in front of her.

And suddenly, hell loomed on the deep.

The Styx was a great upside-down anvil of a war cruiser, its deck blazing with the kind of light that drew misguided moths. The armored vessel hulked under the starlight, a product of industry and war, fitted and braced against nature.

Talia’s heart stuttered at the sight. No doubt the Styx had long seen the Charon’s approach. The demon Death Collector had to know someone was coming—another person ready to trade their humanity for immortality.

The old man brought the boat alongside the great ship with a wrenching scrape and idled near a narrow ladder. He turned, the pallor of his skin sickly yellowed in the ship’s light.

“The Styx.” He cocked his head at the wall of gray steel.

Talia’s nausea peaked as the wind died and the Charon rocked. She clenched her teeth against throwing up and gripped the side of the boat as mute terror blanked her mind.

“You want me to take you back?” The old man didn’t look like he cared much either way.

Talia shook her head slightly, so as not to be sick.

She could do this. Only yesterday her shadows had protected her and Adam during the failed attempt to save Custo’s life. And in shadow, she could manipulate objects with her mind. The combination of abilities would get her to Adam and then get them both to safety. She wasn’t asking for more than that. The destruction of the demon who called himself the Death Collector could wait for another time.

Right now was for Adam.

Her fear transmuted into an electric clarity that ran in a bristling current, just under her skin.

Talia stood, gathering shadow from the night. The cold, veils of darkness hung off her shoulders in billowing layers, at the ready. She pulled them more tightly around her to mask her boarding as she took hold of the ladder.

The rungs were chilly and wet on her hands.

A wraith—a woman with the slender face of an angel—leaned down the ladder to look for the demon’s newest supplicant.

Talia waited, heart pounding. Below, the Charon pulled away, leaving her one choice. Up.

“Must have chickened out,” the wraith called to the others and ducked out of sight.

Talia continued her climb, and near the top she glanced about the deck. To one side, a raised helipad hosted a faster mode of transportation to and from the ship. Handy. Wraiths clustered nearby. Ten, twelve, their attention directed on a pair that were sparring. The cracking blows they landed each other would have killed any normal person.

With this distraction, Talia crawled on deck.

Across a flat gray expanse was a narrow doorway, rectangular with rounded edges, leading to the interior of a bulky metal structure.

She forced herself to breathe more slowly, her heart to ease its frantic pace. Freaking out would help no one. She’d start with inside rooms and work through the ship. Check every corner, carefully and methodically.

Buried in shadows, Talia kept to the edge of the deck as she moved toward the door. She insinuated herself along the natural shades of dark and light that fell in the sharp lines of the ship’s construction.

She glanced at the Charon, now a spark in the distance.

A deep-toned click and snap on deck brought Talia’s head back around.

The door was open, a figure just emerging.

A single glimpse of dense blackness, and time ground to a halt. The Earth stopped spinning on its axis. The ocean stilled and the stars winked out.

All of Talia’s senses were overridden by a roar of static in her ears.

The thing that crossed the threshold was Wrong. He might call himself the Death Collector, might style himself as a giver of immortal youth, but Talia’s mind and soul rang with the more apt term, demon.

Had it not been for her grip on the side of the ship, Talia would have fallen to the deck in revulsion.

The demon was a snaking horror of black absence fitted in a sinuous twist around the body of a man. His human host. Deep in shadow, Talia could see the slick offal of the demon penetrating the host to his core. Whoever the man might’ve been was gone, his identity destroyed. Now his body, used and broken, shared his life with a terrible intelligence in writhing misery. Expression vacant, jaw slack, the man moved as if in a long nightmare, looking only for an end. Whatever end that might be was clearly beyond his caring.

The thought that Adam faced that horror stripped Talia of all hope that he might still be alive. The wraith soul-suckers were bothersome insects compared to the genocidal seethe of the demon. The only being powerful enough to destroy that thing, that condensation of defiling chaos, was Shadowman. Shadowman could be demon enough himself if need be. He and he alone could cut the demon out of the world.

A sudden pressure welled up inside her.

Scream. Now. Right now. Pour every drop of fae blood into one piercing sound. More instinct than impulse, the need was sharp and urgent.

Talia stifled a groan of abject frustration. Her throat ached to call her father, yet screaming was impossible with the constant suffocation that choked her. A wasted effort. Tears streamed down her face at her impotence.

She swallowed the gorge of sound with a shudder. Today was for Adam, but she would be back. She would open her mouth and shred the sky. The demon would know Death.

The wraiths on deck stopped their rough play and stood in a thrall of attention, regarding the demon snake and his human host.

The host cleared the threshold and held the door to allow three snarling dogs to join him. Like great, rabid wolves, the dogs’ ears were pinned back, heads lowered. Their golden eyes peered in her direction.

No, not in her direction. They looked directly at her.

Talia stopped breathing and pressed her body into the metal wall at the edge of the ship as her heart gulped for oxygen.

The host’s face contracted into a half smile while the rest of his expression remained sallow and dumb, as if the demon had pulled a marionette string at the edge of the man’s sagging mouth.

“Banshee,” the host said. His voice grated as the demon puppeted him. “These are my hellhounds. They were bred in shadows far darker than yours. Shall I loose them to fetch you or will you come out and talk to me yourself?”

The dogs slavered in anticipation, wicked yellow teeth bared.

Talia’s heart clamored with alarm. Shadow had always been her refuge.

“Banshee. Though I have forever, I find I am impatient at present.” The host’s gaze slid to her. “I punish sneaking and subterfuge. Yours is the second attempt on my life tonight, and I guarantee that the other is regretting his actions now. I grow weary of being distracted from my work. Come out. Now.”

The second attempt on his life? Had to be Adam.

And if Adam “regretted” anything, he had to be alive to do so.

Alive. Talia clung to that as she released the shadow at her shoulders.

“Ah. There you are.” The black coil of demon turned his host’s head. “Welcome, Banshee. You needn’t have boarded my ship like a diseased rat. The invitation has always been open for you.”

Talia remembered how months ago the wraiths had come to collect her for a “date” with their master. She’d discovered her scream too late to save Melanie.

Whatever the demon wanted with her—No, thank you.

“I’d—” Talia’s hoarse voice broke. She tried again. “I’d rather die than become one of those things.” She flicked a glance at the gathered wraiths. One sneered back at her and worked his lower jaw in a threat, as if he could accommodate her declaration.

“No. No. That hungry life is not for you,” the host said. In his human eyes, a glimmer of surprise, contradicting the assurance of his demon-puppeted speech.

Perhaps the man was still in there after all.

“If you were to become a wraith,” he continued, “you could not bear me a child.”

Talia froze, midbreath. Her gaze shifted from the host to the demon and back again.

Bear him a what?

“Don’t look so shocked,” the host said. “If Death can get a child on a mortal woman, then surely I can get one on a Twilight half-breed. Our union will greatly accelerate the plans I have already put in motion with the wraiths, ensuring my success. The trifold combination of mortal, Twilight, and demon blood in one being will destroy the boundary between the mortal world and Twilight forever. No Death. And without Death, the heavens will fall as well, and I will reign over the ensuing chaos.”

Talia’s already tight stomach turned and she retched on the deck.

The host inclined his head. “Granted, our intercourse will not be pleas urable for you, nor will the pregnancy. But I think the delivery will be worst.”

Talia swallowed to clear her mouth. “No. Never.”

She’d jump over the side first. Drown. There was no way she’d allow the demon to touch her. Not that way. Not any way.

The host’s lips pulled into a smile while his eyes wandered, at odds.

“We’ll see,” the host said. “How about we discuss the matter with your sweetheart? He claimed you were pregnant already, but that isn’t so, is it?”

Sweetheart. Yes, Adam was that, but also so much more. He was her Reason. He was her model of courage, of strength, of endurance. It would be pure joy to give him a child.

Talia’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. That future was all but lost.

“Jacob’s been playing with him for a while now.” The host worked up another false smile. “I should check on his progress. If I know Jacob, the upstart Adam Thorne should be all but broken.”

Talia raised her chin. The demon might know Jacob, but he obviously didn’t know Adam. Every cell of her body ached for what Adam must be suffering, but she had complete faith that the light of his soul was as bright as ever.

“You disagree?” The demon tried to inject mirth into the host’s tone, but he still sounded lifeless and sour.

Talia remained silent. She didn’t want to goad him to hurt Adam any more than he already had.

“Why don’t we go see, shall we? Let’s see how your Adam fares.” The host’s head jerked toward the group of wraiths. “Martin, bring our lady banshee along. I’m finally about to be entertained.”

“Blink once for yes, and twice for yes-right-now.” Jacob’s laugh puffed fetid air on Adam’s face.

Adam closed his eyes, shutting out the small, windowless utility room and his brother’s contorted expression. Adam tightly sealed his eyes so there could be no confusion: Never. Ever. Would he become a wraith.

He would have answered a definitive and resounding NO, but his mouth was taped shut. He’d have flipped Jacob the bird, but his hands were taped behind his back and had long since gone numb.

“How much do you want to bet you will?” Jacob sounded happy. Delighted even. The tables had been turned, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

Adam kept his eyes closed and assessed his situation. There was no getting out of here alive. Not only was he bound to a chair like Custo had been, but he was pinned to the chair by a knife in his side. The blade pierced the flesh at his side and was rammed into the wooded backrest. Hurt like bloody hell.

But maybe…just maybe…if he pulled hard and fast against the blade, he’d hit something vital and bleed out quickly. Maybe he could bring on Shadowman yet.

Something clicked—the latch of the door—and a rush of rotten air circulated through his holding cell.

A wave of dank hopelessness swamped Adam. He could name the source of the feeling: the demon and his host were back. The demon’s dogs whined in the corridor.

Adam gritted his teeth in a show of pain to cover his inner determination. Providence had just handed him the opportunity of a lifetime. Just a few more moments to let the demon get all the way inside the room and Adam would throw his weight to the side to drag the blade into his belly. He prayed the knife was razor sharp.

Ready, set, g—

A woman sobbed, low and hoarse.

Adam froze, his thundering heart clutching hard. He opened his eyes.

The demon snake and his host entered, grin jacked up while his eyes wildly tracked around the room. Behind him, Talia was grasped in the unforgiving hands of a wraith.

The sight was a sucker punch to Adam’s soul.

Talia. How? Had to be a trick.

Talia swayed forward with a choked cry, but the wraith brought her roughly back.

Not a trick. She was really there.

Adam’s myriad hurts vanished beneath a storm-surge of terror. The threat of Jacob’s kiss was nothing to this. In fact, nothing Jacob could do to his person scared him anymore.

Abigail had warned him that he hadn’t yet known true fear. He should have listened when he had the chance. True fear has nothing to do with what might happen to you, however painful or vile that might be. True fear is all about what might happen to someone you love.

The host canted his head toward Jacob. “I told you I don’t tolerate weapons aboard my ship.”

Jacob huffed and pulled the knife out of Adam’s side with a searing twist. “He’s tied to the chair. He can’t do anything.”

With the knife gone, the chance was lost. Panic shuddered Adam, but a glance at Talia’s white face, and he brought himself sharply under control. The only thing he had left under his power was himself. Giving in to fear would not help anything. He had to hold it together for her. Stay with her to the end.

“Are you arguing with me?” The snaking black demon flexed its menace on the host’s body.

Jacob ducked his head in sudden obedience. “Of course not.”

The host gestured, sharp and perfunctory. Jacob handed the blade to the other wraith, who released Talia and left the room. The door shut with a devastating click.

Talia dropped to the floor at Adam’s knees, her hands fluttering at his side where the blade had pierced him. Blood now seeped through his shirt, but not enough for a mortal injury; Jacob had chosen the spot too well.

Jacob grabbed a fistful of Talia’s hair to haul her upright again. She whimpered as her shoulders followed the oblique angle of her body.

Adam strained against his bonds, growling.

“Let her be,” the host said. “This will go more quickly if they have a moment together.”

Talia fell back onto Adam’s lap. Adam ached to pull her into his arms, to cover her body with his so she could be safe. No torture was more painful than Talia, weeping on his lap.

Finally she brought her shining upturned eyes to his.

Adam’s gaze fixed on hers with a million questions. Why was she here? Why wasn’t she hiding in shadow? She could do things in shadow. Escape. Save herself.

Of course she understood him. Of all the people on this earth, Talia was the only one who could really understand him.

“I couldn’t let you do it alone,” she said, her voice rasping with effort. “You should have waited for me.”

I couldn’t risk losing you.

“You should have trusted me.” Talia worked her fingers on the tape on his face.

I had to protect you. The harsh reality was that he couldn’t protect her. He’d tried everything, and still had fallen short.

“You can’t just run off to save the world whenever you want. I need you,” she said. The tape burned as she stripped it off.

“I love you,” Adam said. He needed those to be the first words out of his mouth. Something right amid so much wrong. “I had to do something.”

“You still can,” the host interrupted.

Adam brought his gaze up to the demon and his host. The host lifted a hand to Talia’s hair and wound a blonde curl around his finger.

The demon. Touching Talia.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side—” The host paused expectantly.

Adam got the joke, but he wasn’t about to laugh for a demon.

“—for some time now. I would take great satisfaction, and make significant progress in my plans, were you to join my army of wraiths.”

Dread pooled within Adam. He could see where this was going.

The host’s gaze darted back and forth between him and Talia, expressive and emoting. It seemed the man, independent of the demon, had taken an interest in the proposal that the demon used his human lips to form.

“If you accept my offer of immortality, I will give the banshee the gift of time. I will allow her off my ship. Give her a day to run and hide before I hunt for her again.”

Adam didn’t want to hear the “or.”

“Or, I will rape her now, before your eyes, and get my child on her.”

Talia clamped her hands over Adam’s ears, but too late. He’d already heard.

“No no no no no,” she croaked. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t even think about it.”

Tears streaked black makeup down the face he loved. Even with all that goth gunk, she was beautiful. So much magic in such a small package.

Adam had seen what had been done to Custo. Saw how his friend had been wrenched to death. He knew he couldn’t watch Talia be defiled before his eyes and not do something about it. The mere thought of her desecration sent excruciating pain searing through his veins.

With a painful snap, something broke inside Adam. Something vital, essential to life. Something that connected him to Talia, Segue, and his lost family. Something that set him apart from everything he loved. The demon had just effortlessly named the price of his soul.

“No no no no no.” Talia sobbed against his shoulder, seeking comfort he couldn’t, wouldn’t, give.

Adam strained his head away from her. He couldn’t bear her frantic touch, the sound of hurt in her voice. If anyone could weaken his resolve, she could, and it would take every ounce of will he possessed to do this last thing.

The host’s head cocked in an affectation of thinking. “Actually, my plan would be best served by fucking her now. Jacob could hold her down, if necessary. As much as you and your Segue have been a constant irritation—”

“—I’ll do it,” Adam interrupted, though he knew the demon was now playing with him for sport. “I’ll become a wraith.”

“No.” Talia’s voice was a sob-clogged whisper. Shadows shuddered with her surge of horror and dread. She took Adam’s head in her hands to make him face her again. To look into his eyes and compel a different answer out of him. She was already on her knees. Now she used her position to beg. Please, anything but a wraith. She could not imagine a worse fate for him than to become the thing he’d dedicated his life to destroy. She refused to be the means of his undoing.

Adam kept his chin firmly to the side, the muscles in his jaw flexing with effort, his gaze refusing to meet hers.

“Don’t do this, Adam,” she rasped. “Take it back. You can still make a different choice. They’ll find me anyway. The demon has hellhounds that can see in shadow. I can’t evade them. You’d be doing this for nothing.”

The door opened behind her. Talia could hear the dogs whine. For a moment, she thought the beasts would be brought in to demonstrate her point, but instead the host said, “I’ll need my cup,” to someone outside the small room.

“Adam, why won’t you listen to me? Please, listen to me!” For all her efforts, her voice was a harsh whisper; she could barely hear herself.

The door opened again—Talia whipped her head around to see what awful thing was next—and the cup was handed in. An old-fashioned goblet of sorts.

The host held it while the demon snake belched black tar to the brim. Talia could smell its sulfurous reek paces away. Something about the stuff echoed the tar coating her throat.

“You’ll need to drink this,” the host said to Adam, lifting the cup as if to toast.

Oh please God no.

But he obviously didn’t care. For whatever stupid, cosmic reason, neither God nor Shadowman was going to help her. Talia glanced at Adam’s inscrutable expression. She was in this nightmare alone.

Well, they couldn’t have him.

Talia stood in front of Adam’s chair and faced the demon, her feet braced for maximum stability. Over her dead body. She hoped the demon would take her challenge literally.

The only way the demon was going to get through her with his revolting brew was if he killed her. Which would be just groovy, because then Shadowman would come and cut his disgusting, slimy black hide to pieces.

“I’ve made my choice, Talia,” Adam said behind her. “Now get out of the way.”

Adam’s tone made the small room drop thirty degrees, and bitter goose bumps raced across Talia’s skin. She braced against the cold. She could be stubborn, too.

The host smirked awkwardly at her, though the man’s eyes were wide with acute horror and sadness. Talia found it ironic that the human half of that demon-host marriage should empathize with her situation, especially since his choice was the first to give the demon power.

Well, if that coward wanted forgiveness, he’d have to look elsewhere.

The host’s gaze seemed to read her answer, because it dulled again, the man retreating back into the shadows of his mind. Still choosing the easy way.

She wouldn’t.

“I’m not moving,” Talia said. The room darkened, shadows stirring with her inner turmoil as if a gale circled the room.

Jacob stepped toward her, but the host raised his hand to stop him.

“Release Adam,” the host said to Jacob. “Let him deal with her. He has to take the cup himself anyway. The banshee will settle when he becomes a wraith.”

Not likely.

Jacob moved around Adam’s chair. Talia heard the tape at Adam’s hands rip.

Adam stood, his arms dropping to his sides, fingers flexing to restore circulation. His expression was closed and grim.

“You’ll see her safely back to New York?” Adam asked over her head.

“I will,” the host answered. “Safe and sound. As a creature of Twilight, I cannot break my word.”

This was not happening. This could not be happening.

“Don’t do this.” Talia clutched at Adam’s sweat-dampened shirt. He smelled stale and stressed, but still so good. So Adam. She planted her hands on his chest to hold him physically back.

He gripped her shoulders—would this be the last time he’d hold her?—and finally met her gaze.

“Talia,” he said, voice gravelly, “you are an expert at running and hiding. I’ve left you everything I have to help you. I need you to take this chance; I’m going to give it to you regardless. I need you to run. I need you to heal. Then you track this bastard down and scream.”

“Please, if you love me, don’t do this,” she begged. She hated the determination in his voice. Adam was impossible to stay from a decided course of action. Tears blurred her vision in frustration.

“Look at me, Talia,” Adam commanded. “Look at me!”

She startled painfully. His shout felt like he’d struck her.

“Then I need you to track me down,” he said. “I need you to scream for me. Will you do that, Talia? Will you scream for me?”

A sob of anguish broke out of her. “No.” But what she was refusing she couldn’t name. “No” to his choice. “No” to running. “No” to this whole goddamned nightmare. Couldn’t he see that the only answer to give was “No”?

Adam’s grip on her shoulders tightened just enough to move her out of his way.

She dived into his side and threw her arms around his waist to drag him down with her weight. He stumbled slightly, then regained his balance.

She pulled on shadow to blank Adam’s vision. She coaxed the veils into a frenzy to bar him from reaching the demon. She summoned her will to push him back with her mind.

If the demon wanted to sic his dogs on her, so be it. She could fight wraiths. She could fight the demon and his hellhounds. And she’d damn well fight Adam if she had to.

The demon could not have him.

Adam struggled against her, his will against hers. He pried his arms away, his grip biting into her flesh.

“See how easy it is,” the host observed lightly, presumably to Jacob. “She’s been here perhaps ten minutes and he’s broken. Watch how they fight each other.”

Jacob snickered in agreement.

Blind fury rose in Talia, the likes of which she’d never felt in her life. The room darkened deeper than pitch. Her hair lifted and whipped around her as the veils layered shadow upon shadow.

She drew a deep breath of outrage and grief, and screamed.

It was a broken, pitiful noise that set a fire in her lungs.

The host laughed outright.

She tried again, pushing all the life and love she had into one sound, an extended gasp of pain and sorrow.

Still, nothing. Goddamn nothing.

“Stop this, Talia,” Adam lashed. “You’re only doing more damage to yourself.”

The room churned with her storm of shadows, but still he managed to move forward, carry ing her with him a full step toward the demon and his hateful cup.

Sobbing, she leaned into Adam’s body with her shoulder, her arms reaching beyond him for something to hold on to. Reaching for something to give her leverage against his greater strength. Reaching for anything that would delay his insanity.

Cold steel met her palm. A frigid rod or shaft of this ship’s pipes. Her fingers wrapped around it.

Power flooded up her arm and through her body in primeval recognition.

Not a shaft of pipe, then. The shaft of her father’s scythe, handed father to daughter across their native shadow. Her fae inheritance, the legacy of Death.

A dark glee of demon bloodlust suffused Talia’s half-breed senses. She pushed Adam firmly back, once and for all, and turned to face the demon, the crescent moon of the scythe’s blade circling over her head as a vane signals a change in the weather.

The wind was finally blowing her way.