He shifted his gaze to Serena, who was just finishing up a phone call with her boss.
She caught him staring at her as she hung up and made her way across the lobby. “We need to take a detour on the way to the train. Val wants me to drop off the coin with the local Aegis Regent.”
Wraith broke out in a cold sweat. What if the Aegi knew what the real Josh looked like?
“Why?”
“Because if Byzamoth is after me, the coin is also in danger, and we can’t let him get it.”
“We can’t let him get you,” he growled. “We need to get on the train and get the hell out of Aswan.”
“It’ll only take a minute. The Regent lives just a few blocks from here. And if he has a computer, I might be able to do a little probing into Byzamoth.”
Well, shit. “Fine. Let’s go.”
They walked, Wraith scanned their surroundings. He’d also loaded up on meds before they left, and as they approached the Aegis dwelling, he wondered if he should up the dosage. He was tiring out more rapidly and severely now, and he needed to be on top of his game.
Eidolon had given him a month to live, but Wraith could feel his health deteriorating, and his gut told him he had a couple of days.
A bone-deep ache had settled into every cell in his body, but even though his mind fuzzed out sometimes, it didn’t want to roll over in defeat. Which was strange, given that he’d pretty much lived his entire life nursing a death wish.
“It should be just ahead,” Serena said, studying her map.
The breeze picked up, bringing with it dust… and the scent of human blood. A lot of blood. Wraith jerked to a stop, slapped hard by a wall of evil. “Serena.”
“What is it?”
“Demons.”
Her head whipped around. “Where?”
“I don’t know. But something felt weird on Philae, and I’m getting that same vibe now. How close are we?” he asked, and she pointed to a house a dozen yards away. “Okay, let’s get out of the open, see if this passes.”
She didn’t argue. She let him take her hand and lead her to the house, but as they drew closer, the coppery odor of blood grew stronger. It was coming from inside the Regent’s place. The hair on his neck stood up, and though his mouth should be watering at the scent, it went dry.
“Serena,” he said, “I need you to stay here on the porch while I check inside.”
“But—”
“This isn’t up for debate. I have a really, really bad feeling, and my gut is always right.”
“Okay.” Her voice was firm, strong, but he picked up the sound of her heart rate doubling. “Okay. I trust you.”
He wished she’d stop saying that. “Just stay here, and yell if you need me.” He kissed her, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.
Cursing to himself, he tried the door. Unlocked. It swung open with a creak, and the stench of death hit him so hard he took a step back. Not just death, but misery. Blood. Bowels. His stomach lurched as he moved cautiously inside. His senses didn’t pick up the presence of others, but that didn’t mean he was alone. Many creatures didn’t have heartbeats or physical bodies. And some could conceal their life forces.
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Serena had stayed put. She had, but the way she shifted her balance and worried her bottom lip told him she wasn’t going to stay there for long.
He found the Regent in the bedroom. And the bathroom. And the kitchen.
He lost his lunch in a garbage can, and as he splashed water on his face and rinsed his mouth in the kitchen sink, he became aware of the fact that he wasn’t alone. He whirled around and found himself face to face with Byzamoth.
“Humans are so… fragile.” Byzamoth smiled and licked the blood from his fingers. “We’ll see how Serena compares. I do hope she’s intact. For both your sakes.”
Wraith smashed his fist into the male’s face. Twice. He followed with a knee to the groin and an elbow to the throat. Byzamoth didn’t have time to be surprised. He went down hard.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Wraith delivered a kick to the demon’s privates. “Oh, yeah—oof!”
Byzamoth had swung his legs out, catching Wraith in the knees. Wraith slammed into a cabinet, barely kept from hitting the floor. The demon hit him with a full-body slam, and Wraith’s skull cracked hard on the wall, putting a dent in the plaster and putting his temper into orbit.
With a roar, he rammed Byzamoth into the counter, sending glasses and dishes crashing. The guy was stronger than most, and it didn’t take long to realize that in his weakened condition, Wraith might, for the first time, not come out on top of this.
Byzamoth’s hand closed around Wraith’s throat and squeezed. A vise grip of pain tore all the way to Wraith’s spine. He fumbled behind him with one hand, seeking the knife block he’d seen on the counter. Byzamoth’s face was a mask of evil, his teeth bared, blood staining them red.
“She’s mine,” he hissed, squeezing so hard Wraith’s vision dimmed. “No more games. It’s time for you to die.”