“And I saw the metal hand in person.” Doc rolled his shoulders like he was trying to shrug the memory off.
Daciana drew herself up a little taller, although she still wasn’t an inch over Fi. “If you release me, and she finds out I’ve told you any of this, she’ll kill me.” She swallowed and wrung her hands together. “In front of the council, the Castus told Tatiana he was coming to visit her alone after she was made Dominus. Then he told the rest of the council that she and her family were to be protected.” Daciana shook her head. “I don’t know what he meant exactly, but Tatiana doesn’t have any family. Unless he meant the rest of the House of Tepes.”
“The baby,” Doc muttered. “That’s what he meant.”
“You don’t know that,” Fi said.
He turned toward her like his head was on a swivel. “You think a demon can raise a child? He’s more likely to eat it. No, my gut tells me he’s given it to her. Dammit.” He bent his head. Fi could have sworn she saw a flicker of blue flame dance across his fingers. She reached to grab his hand, but he balled both hands into fists. He exhaled and lifted his head, his eyes the fierce green-gold of his half-form. “Put the vampire in the guesthouse.”
“The soulless woman,” Creek whispered.
Yahla nodded, her smile kind but forceful. “You know me.” It was neither question nor statement, but a mind reading.
He swallowed. “You’re not real.”
“Aren’t I?” She spread her arms, the shadows clinging to her like wings.
“You died.”
She dropped her arms, clasping her hands before her with an unearned innocence. “And now I am reborn. I have no soul, I cannot cease to exist.”
He backed up one step in preparation to leave. “Samhain approaches. The covenant is broken. Nothing can be trusted tonight.”
“Meaning me, but those things have nothing to do with me. I have always been. Always. Until the witch caught me in her spell and confined me in her house.”
“Why would she do that?”
Yahla laughed, lifting her head and revealing the pale line of her neck. “Why did the witch do anything?”
“Power.”
She nodded approvingly.
Something exploded in the distance. He glanced toward the sound, convinced she’d be gone when he looked back. She wasn’t. His pocket vibrated again, no doubt Argent texting him the location of the next demon to take out. “I have to go. I have work to do.”
“Yes, you are Kubai Mata. You protect the city. And now I protect you.”
How she knew that about him, he couldn’t guess. “I don’t need protecting.”
“It matters not what you need. You freed me.”
“If this is one of those things where you have to save my life for us to be even, I’m good. Really.” Everything he remembered from his grandmother’s stories told him Yahla, if this really was her, which he still couldn’t believe, was prone to harsh moods and fits of anger. She wasn’t exactly known for her rational thinking, either.
She laughed again, the sound like a songbird’s trilling. “The city is besieged.” She walked to the corner and stared toward the demon’s carcass. “There are more than just this one to deal with.” She stared back at him, the lamplight outlining her ethereal beauty with its solar glow. “I will help you.”
The tales swirled in his head. “How do I know you won’t turn on me?”
“You freed me. I cannot hurt you. I would not.” She held out her hand to him. “Come.”
He took a step forward but shook his head, remembering. “I won’t touch you.” He shuddered, because he had touched her already. She must have been dead when he’d picked her up or he would be, too.
With a smile, she dropped her hand. “Your grandmother taught you well.” She ran her hand through her hair and plucked out three feathers. She pinched them between her thumb and forefinger and offered them, her arm outstretched from her body and the strange, shadowy wing visible again. “Take these to her. She will make you a charm to wear to keep you safe from me.”
He hesitated for a moment, then came close enough to take the feathers by their pointed tips. She held very still until he’d stepped back again.
“When you have your charm, I will see you again. Soon.” She did the slow blinking thing, then spun apart into a cloud of ravens. They rose, silent except for the rasping of their wings against the air, and disappeared into the blackness of the night sky.
He stared after them for a moment longer than he should have, finally tucking the feathers into a hidden pocket on his chest holster. He had demons to kill and mortals to protect, no time to think about the mythical, dangerous woman who’d just pledged her allegiance to him.
Or why he wished she’d stayed.
Chapter Thirty-six
Straight to Seven, please, Jerem.”
Mal had barely gotten into the car. He stared at Chrysabelle in disbelief. “Just to drop off Mortalis and tell Dominic we’ve returned his plane, right?”
“I can find my own way,” the fae offered, but Mal wanted her answer.
She looked out the window, her face reflected in the glass. She was avoiding him, not taking in the scenic drive from the airport. “No.”
“You need to rest. To prepare. You haven’t even fully recovered from losing the signum.” His back teeth ground together in anger. “This is not the time to get them redone.”