that had been Anna there, gnawed on like that… I understood the need a father has to protect his child, even if he had no idea how to go about it. Oscar was doing all he could, and hating himself every moment because it wasn’t more. I knew.
Thankfully, the voices vanished at dawn, though it would be a couple of hours before the sun would be high enough to peek over the treetops. I didn’t believe for a moment that those things were gone, but if the light was going to chase them away for a bit, I’d take it and be happy.
Besides, I had stuff I needed to do, and a promise to keep no matter how badly I didn’t want to.
I picked a moment when the guys were all mostly dozing. Only Duke raised his head to watch me slip quietly out of the cabin with my sword belted on.
Palm out, I followed the brown, crusty trail of Zane’s blood toward the trees, feeling for the edges of Cameron’s consecration spell. I found it about halfway across the cleared area, the point where the tingling on my skin ceased, like a switch turned off. The holy ground was shrinking fast. I dug a line in the dirt with my scabbard at that point, and took two big steps back.
For a moment, I eyed the forest around me, too quiet by far. Nothing was stirring, no birds were singing. As if I needed more proof that I wasn’t alone.
“Hey! Ugly!” My shout echoed off the mountain, bouncing back to me mockingly. I winced a little, knowing that it was going to rouse the guys, and I so didn’t want them to interfere with this.
Almost instantly, one of the creatures appeared at the edge of the forest, clinging to a tree trunk about eight feet off the ground. This one didn’t even have a nose, something black and gooey trickling down its face from the gaping hole. “Not you. Other Ugly. Go get your master.” The Yeti was watching through those black eyes. I could feel his gaze on me, even by proxy, but I was done dealing with lackeys.
The minion never moved from its spot on the tree, but there was a rustling farther back. Three more of the little pets clambered spiderlike through the tree branches above us, but they found places to settle and moved no more. Not like the white-furred behemoth shouldering his way into view. He didn’t even bother with the human illusion, this time, smashing saplings flat as he passed like they were so many blades of grass.
I called his kind Skin demons, the animalistic Abrams tanks of Hell, and the Yeti was the biggest I’d ever seen or heard of. Though he moved along on all fours, it was more of an apelike walk, leaning on the front limbs only as a convenience. Fully upright, he’d top me by a good four feet, and his forelegs were as long as I was tall. Christ, was he this big last time? Or was my own remembered agony coloring my perceptions?
He’d changed, that was for sure. He’d been a four-legged death machine when I’d faced him last, but more like a polar bear than a gorilla. He’d grown strong enough in just four years to come back across the veil into the real world, and he was closer to humanoid this time. He was evolving.
“Jesse James Dawson.” Oh yeah, he remembered me. His oil-slick voice oozed into my head, and I fought the urge to hunch my shoulders against the intangible taint. He came to the edge of the clearing, his muzzle wrinkling as he sniffed the air. “You reek of fear.”
“You try staying cooped up in a cabin with six other guys and no shower for a couple days. You’d reek too.” I rested my hand loosely on my sword, mostly because it would stop the shaking. He was right, I was freaking terrified. He was standing yards away, but in my mind I could feel that hot breath on my face, feel those claws digging their way into my rib cage. You beat him once. You can do it again. That was getting me nowhere. I tried again. A samurai does not fear death, only a bad death. Yeah, that didn’t help much either. Not in the face of that.
“What do you want, little man?” As if he was thoroughly bored with me already, he rubbed his curved horns against a nearby tree, stripping bark in wide swathes and gouging deep into the heartwood.
“I think it’s more about what you want. You’re here for me, right?” He smiled, exposing great white fangs as big as my palm, and didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. “So let’s deal.”
The chuckle was more of a growl. “What makes you think you have anything I want?”
I got to answer with a chuckle of my own. “Oh come on. I handed you your ass four years ago. I spanked you all the way back down to Hell, and that was after you got a look at my insides. You know you want a piece of me again.” That wasn’t entirely accurate, but it got the job done.
The Yeti swung his massive head in my direction, claws raking lines in the forest floor. I could smell the sulfur of his breath as he snarled. “You got lucky, sack of meat. And this time, I will finish the meal I began.” He snapped his teeth on empty air, and I was insanely proud of myself for not flinching.
“Then this is the part where we start discussing boundaries and whether or not we can see other people.” I moved my scabbard and dropped down into a crouch I could hold for hours. I’d need to, if this negotiation went like normal. “You wanna start, or should I?”
“Stakes!” he barked. Of course. Always know the reward for your toils. “I will return the soul of Zane David Quinn.”
Oh that was just pathetic. “Nice try, and no dice. I will, however, take the soul of Zane Christopher Quinn.” I shook my finger at him admonishingly, and I was secretly proud that I’d thought to ask the kid’s full name the night before. Sometimes, Jesse is smart. Not often, but sometimes. “ Tsk-tsk, you can do better than that. And just for that, I want his soul, and I want a promise of safety for everyone inside that cabin.”
He growled, something I could feel vibrating through the earth where I sat. “And what do you offer?”
“I offer the soul of Jesse James Dawson.” I hoped he’d accept it. It was all I had, after all.
He actually paused to think about it, the bastard. His head swayed back and forth, rattling twigs out of the lower tree branches. Finally, his eyes flared red, and he snarled, “Done!”
A black slash seared across the back of my hand, from the first knuckle almost to my wrist, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air around me. The mark had delicate little hooks at each end, the beginnings of a more elaborate design.
Shit, that always hurt. The pain would pass in a moment, but that first burn was always startling, always the worst. Even more startling was the fact that he’d accepted my terms. Safety for the guys had come way too easy. I’d screwed up already, somehow, even if I couldn’t see it yet. If I could figure it out before this was over, maybe I could compensate.
“Weapons.” We’d trade off like that, one of us making a demand, the other agreeing or vetoing. And every single word was so very important.
“I will fight with what I am given.” He flexed his claws at me, waiting for me to make assumptions about his weapon choices. Assumptions are bad, m’kay?
“No. Declare it.” I watched him closely. His efforts at deception were amateur at best. He was playing me, somehow. A demon didn’t get to be that strong by being bad at his job.
My demand was followed by another growl, but he conceded. “Claw, and fang, and horn.”
“I will fight with a melee weapon of my choice.”
“NO!” Something in my insides went to jelly at that roar, and I heard it bounce off the mountain, echoing back at us. “Declare it!”
Damn, he called me out on that one. “I will fight with this sword.” I drew my katana from its scabbard, holding it up for display. “The sword that ripped your throat out and sent you back to Hell once before.”
I hate being pinned to one weapon. If my sword broke, or mysteriously disappeared sometime before the big fight, I’d be screwed.
“Done.” Another acceptance, another flash of pain as the terms seared into my very skin. This time, my grimace was more of a smile. I’d won that round, though an onlooker might not realize it. In agreeing to only his physical weapons, the Yeti had forfeited any use of his magic. Sadly, so had I, but since I didn’t have any magic, it was a small loss.
“Your call, fuzz ball.”
His head swayed a bit, muzzle wrinkling as he sniffed the air, pretending to be deep in thought. “Aid.”
Oh, that was a laugh. Like I was going to even dream of going up against him and his pets. “A one-on-one fight, just you and me.”
The mammoth creature blew out a breath, the reek of sulfur hanging heavy in the air, before nodding his horned head. “These will not aid me.” He gestured to the trees above, and I looked up to realize that there were at least five of the gaunt minions up there, all watching me with the same black eyes. “And the ones in the cabin will not aid you.”
This one was tricky. “These” was such a mutable term. Did he mean “these five here,” or “these types of
