Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight


“You can find her?” Christian stood in the courtyard of the fortress, Asmodai beside him, and all around them milled a hoard of lesser demons.

Asmodai nodded. “She has my blood.”

Christian drew his gun and gripped it in his right hand as he held his left out to Asmodai. “Hold on to my arm. I’m going to open the portal. Concentrate on where we need to be, and get us as close as you can.”

The Abyss faded as the portal opened. The temperature dropped as they left the Abyss behind and rematerialized in London. He recognized where they were–the rooftop of the Order’s building. His heart stopped once he made sense of the scene in front of him. Asmodai had indeed brought them close to Tara.

He swung up his gun and placed the barrel at the base of the Walker’s skull.

“That knife moves and I blow your head off,” Christian growled.

The Walker tensed, but his arm remained motionless and the knife in his hand rested against Tara’s throat. The Walker held her immobile, one hand clamped in her hair. Her head was pulled back, baring the long line of her throat, and her blood pulsed in the veins beneath the blade. Her eyes were closed, but her lids fluttered open as he spoke. She tried to turn to him but the knife cut into the tender flesh of her neck, leaving a crimson line. She gave a slight intake of breath then stilled.

Christian inhaled the scent of her blood, and his hand tightened on the trigger. He’d never wanted anything in his entire life more that he wanted to blow the Walker away, but Tara stood too close and might be hurt.

“Lower the knife,” he snarled.

“Christian Roth, oath breaker,” The Walker said. “I see you have returned from Hell and brought a new friend with you.”

“Lower the knife.” When the Walker didn’t move, he pressed the gun harder against him. “If you kill her now, Walker, I will shoot you down, then I will search the Faelands and kill everyone who has ever meant anything to you.”

“They will not allow you to do this.”

“You think I need their permission?” Christian held his breath. For a moment it seemed like the Walker would not comply, then he lowered the knife. “Let her go.”

The hand holding Tara fell away, and she turned to him. He saw the tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. Her enormous eyes locked on him as though she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Asmodai stood at his side, his gaze fixed on his daughter. Christian handed him the gun. “Keep the Walker covered.”

Christian ran his finger over the small cut at her throat. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, trembling as he held her tight. He trembled too; he couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing her. A minute later and he would have arrived to find her butchered. His grip on her tightened.

Christian’s eyes narrowed on Piers. “What part of the plan didn’t you understand?”

Piers grinned. “If you shack up with a demon, don’t expect her to toe the line. She didn’t like your plan.”

His eyes searched out the others, Graham, looking pale, and Carl standing with his hand on the head of a huge hellhound he guessed to be Jamie. His eyes widened when he saw Jonas Callaghan behind the small group.

The fae, their swords drawn, surrounded them. Piers nodded his readiness to fight; they had guns, but the fae outnumbered them.

The air shimmered and a stream of lesser demons swarmed through the open portal, taking up positions around them.

The Walker remained impassive as he returned Christian’s stare. “We will have a reckoning for this, you and I.”

“Perhaps, but not tonight.”

“According to the Accords, she is ours.”

Christian sighed, every bone ached, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but they were still alive, and Asmodai was off his back. The demon continued to stare hungrily at the girl in his arms, but he wasn’t getting her. She was Christian’s now. Only the small problem of the fae remained.

Tara couldn’t spend her life looking over her shoulder, expecting attack. He looked the Walker in the eyes, eyes so similar to Tara’s.

“You can’t have her,” he said softly, “She’s mine. We reach an agreement or we fight now.”

Piers strode over to stand next to him. “I vote we fight now. Let’s just kill them.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“What sort of agreement could we reach with a man who broke his oath only hours after making it?” The Walker asked.

“What sort of agreement would you want?”

“We need assurances that she will never enter Faelands.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Piers snorted. “I doubt she’s going to want to visit with her Uncle Walker anytime soon.”

The Walker ignored him. “I cannot take your word for this.”