RedFire
Chapter 24
They’d done several laps through the carefully restored rooms of the Regency-era museum house, but so far neither of them had seen anything that re but so far neither of them had seen anything that revealed a clue about the prophecy. Shay studied every piece of art, every museum employee, every tourist, but got nothing.
When they arrived at the top of the staircase and began walking—for the fourth time—over the unique wooden bridge that spanned both sides of the house, she turned to Jax. “You’re absolutely certain that Leonidas said the Oracle emphasized ‘Tell thee fair’?” she asked in a low voice, facing him in the middle of the bridge.
“You don’t have to whisper.” He took hold of her hand and drew it to his lips. “Remember, I’ve got you under my protection right now, so they can’t hear you or see you either.”
She glanced over the bridge railing, her stomach react ing when she saw how far down the first floor was. “I always whisper in museums. My mama raised me right.”
“She did indeed—and, yes, I am certain about what Leonidas said. Perhaps we should try the other museum location now?”
“That one’s not on Oglethorpe Square, though.” She sighed. It was becoming intensely frustrating hashing out the same clues between them, yet getting no tangible result.
She’d already made Jax recite the prophecy at least ten times as they’d trailed their way from room to room, dodging unsuspecting museum visitors who couldn’t see them. The fact that he’d memorized the scroll after read ing it only twice had proved at least one thing—not only was he gorgeous, but his thick skull housed a smart mind as well. Double jeopardy.
A new tour group mounted the stairs beside them, led by a docent whom Shay actually knew. She had to fight the urge to duck and cover right on the little wooden walkway. She did squat down; the natural instinct to hide from the woman was just too powerful.
Jax squatted beside her, threading his hands through the railing bars. “What? Did you see something?” He glanced all around them.
She pointed. “I know that docent. It’s Marty . . . she’s a friend of my mama’s.”
Jax brushed his knuckles across her cheek and smiled at her. “Sweetness, it’s like I said—”
“I know, I know,” she finished for him, hovering low against the rail. “Nobody can see me. Check. It’s just weird, that’s all.” She brushed her hands off and rose to her full height once again. “I think you’re right. We’ve probably exhausted any leads here, so we should hit the main museum.”
Once downstairs, they stepped outside onto the large portico overlooking the gardens below. “Greek Revival elements,” she said in her best art-student voice, pointing at a pair of columns. “You should feel right at home. . . . Wait.” Shay noticed a sign for the gift shop that was in the carriage house straight in front of them. They’d by passed buying tickets, going Jax’s Invisible Man route instead, and the shop gave her an idea.
“I want to run in there.” She pointed through the closed garden gate toward the carriage house. “There might be something that we missed.”
Shay poked her way through the crowded gift shop, just about ready to call it quits, when something spectacular caught her sight.
“Jax! Check this out!” She’d stopped fooling with the unnecessary whispering, and—bouncing unseen amid the throng of tourists—now tugged him by the hand toward a long display of replicas of the famous Bird Girl statue. “Look at these. I can’t believe I didn’t make this connection before.”
He picked one of the small replicas up, turning it in his hand. “Lovely statuary, but what does it mean?”
“It’s a replica of the Bird Girl. She used to be in Bo naventure and was photographed for the cover of Mid night in the Garden of Good and Evil. A true iconic image of this city. Think about the prophecy . . . that part about ‘a bird flies east and west . . . ’ ”
Jax studied the line of replicas on the shelf and seemed to be mentally sorting through the prophecy.
“I want to buy one of these Bird Girls.” She grabbed the one he’d just set down. “You got any money on you?”
“Love, I’ll remind you again of our current situation. Nobody”—he waved about the crowded gift shop—“can see you or me. Or the statue that you are presently holding.”
She swatted him on the chest. “Well, I’m not gonna steal it, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“Why not? In the old days we Spartans valued the clever art of theft.”
“That’s . . . disillusioning.”
He shrugged. “It was a means for survival—if you were on a battle campaign, you might need to steal some poor bloke’s goat or sheep just to stay alive.”
She shook her head. “This is a statue, not a goat. It doesn’t bleat; it doesn’t moo.”
“Fine, then.” He grabbed the replica out of her grasp. “I’m stealing it.” And he swaggered right out the door, clutching it boldly in his hand. Since his cloaking ability extended to the object itself, any observers would have sworn to themselves that a statue had just vanished off the shelf. Not her problem at the moment; unsuspecting “civilians” could just think the shop was haunted. Hey, the museum might even profit by landing on one of the town’s celebrated ghost tours.
She followed Jax outside and into the garden below the main house, jogging to catch up with his long strides. The azaleas and dogwoods were in full bloom, their branches dipping beneath the weight of heavy blossoms. She was just opening her mouth to remark on that fact, to draw his attention to the beautiful garden, when all at once he came to a dead stop.
She collided with his solid back like she might a brick wall, all the air whooshing out of her lungs. “What are you . . .” She gasped.
He held both hands at his sides and moved slightly so that he was positioned squarely in front of her. “Stay back, Shay,” he growled, sidestepping again in a semicircle. “Don’t make a move.”
She placed a hand against his back, knowing that whatever had him going all ninja on her couldn’t be good. It had to be demonic in origin. Right on cue, the hair along her nape prickled just as she spotted a tall, spindly creature off to Jax’s right. Probably eight feet tall with absurdly thin legs and gleaming beetle’s wings across his shoulders, the demon tromped across a full bed of daffodils, ruining them.
Jax growled again, deep and snarling this time—a sound she’d never heard from him before that very mo ment. He swung his head first one direction, then another, sizing up their opponents.
“How many?” Her throat tightened with an anxious spasm. Was it really possible that she’d be murdered by demons in a beautiful Savannah garden bursting with spring? This was tour-of-homes territory, not a supernatural-bloodbath zone.
“No telling, not yet,” he said, his voice hawklike.
Great. There could be at least one hundred soulless Djinn descending upon them. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of her destiny and her newfound strength as a huntress. A week ago she wouldn’t even have known how to battle demons with a knife or just a praise hymn. She might not be as skilled as she would become, but she wasn’t as unprepared as she’d been that first night in the cemetery either.
You’re a huntress; this is what God made you to do. Ditch the fear now!
Ajax’s hands balled into fists, flexing, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a streak of silver shoot up his left forearm. The muscles of that arm bulked visibly, thickening and enlarging. His height increased, his full body morphing spectacularly right in front of her. The bright afternoon gave her a true, unhindered glimpse of just how powerful her lover truly was, and the sight awed her to the core. He was beautiful, primal . . . ter rifying in the extreme—at least, he should be to their enemies. But never to her; Shay’s heart soared with an unexpected rush of pride for all that Ajax was in that moment.
Once again that low pitched, guttural sound emanated from deep inside him, causing chill bumps to race across her arms. “Shay . . . I want you to step back. Carefully.” His words were slow and precise.
She clutched the little Bird Girl statue in one hand. It would be useful in the fight, but not enough. “I need a weapon.” She started for his hip holster, but he held out a staying hand; then they both froze at the sound of a horrifyingly familiar voice.
“Well, well, my old friends. Ajax, you surprise me. I wouldn’t have pegged you for the museum type.”
Hooves clomped loudly on the stone walkway that bisected the garden, and Shay began to tremble. Sable had nearly killed them both on two other occasions, and she wasn’t sure how they’d survive a third encounter.
In a light speed leap, Jax hurled himself through the air, lunging at the centaur. Shay inched back and side ways toward the garden wall, knowing instinctively that she needed to get her rear flank protected. At least that way she’d be able to see any demon that approached without having to wonder if she was about to be blindsided.
Jax had already transformed,his body now fantastically larger, his darkly gleaming wings spread wide across his back. He used his Spartan shield to deflect blows from Sable’s twin swords, and as they battled across the open garden a statue crashed to the brick walkway.
Recovering quicker than his opponent, Jax flew at Sable again, striking a serious blow to the demon’s side. They went down together in reaction, falling into a ter rible rolling maneuver across the open grass; all at once she saw the bright flash of a silver dagger in Jax’s hand.
River! Help him!
She didn’t have time to see if Jax was able to slice Sable with the transformed blade; off to her right the spidery, tall demon began to approach her lazily. He am bled toward her as if he were out for a demonic after noon stroll. She cringed as she got a better look at him. His face wasn’t a face, not exactly; it was more black mist than anything defined. Instead of eyes or facial fea tures, there was just a tense black fog, a soullessness that looked like death itself.
In a garbled, raspy voice the creature threatened, “Shay Angel, your brothers and their Shades . . . I’ve met them before.”
“And you lived to tell about it?” she shot back at him, thrusting her chest out in defiance.
“You tell your brothers they can bite me.”
She started to laugh despite herself, and it took the edge off the fear. “Oh, my God, you are just dumber than a box of rocks, aren’t you?” She laughed even harder, a little hysterically, as the thing spindled its way closer.
It snarled at her, the black hole of its face suddenly opening, revealing a snapping set of jaws. “And ugly,” she added, doing a frantic mental search for any sort of binding spell or other assistance she could remember from the family lore.
As if in slow motion, first one, then a second and a third arm reached toward her, lengthening across the five yards that still separated them.
“Holy Mother of God!” she shrieked. “Aren’t two hands enough for you people?” She barely dodged the demon’s claws as he grabbed for her.
A harsh laugh rumbled from the entity’s chest area as it stretched forth yet another arm. “All the better to hold you with, my dear.”
Clutching the statue in her right hand, she was thankful that she’d grown up with athletic brothers, and pitched the pewter figurine through the air, hitting the creature hard in the center of its face. Howling, the demon took several staggering steps forward. Although she’d tempo rarily unbalanced him, she’d still be toast in a matter of seconds if she couldn’t get on the offensive.
At that moment innocent tourists approached, bliss fully unaware of the battle that waged invisibly among them. The crowd came right between Shay and the de mon; perhaps out of some perverse gentlemanly politeness, Scrabble Legs stepped back and allowed them to pass.
“At least his mama raised him right,” she muttered under her breath.
Jax seized the quick moment and flew to her side, leaving Sable fallen to the ground and still struggling to rise. In his frantic flight Jax managed to overturn yet another statue, and it broke into shattered pieces on the stone walkway. Shay winced, unable to shake her art background.
At the unexpected crash the crowd of tourists gasped, backing away—God love ’em, they had to be preparing to spread more rumors about the place being haunted.
Jax landed again, right in between her and Spidery Demon, his wings a protective shield. “I’ll get this one,” he hissed, pointing his heavy Spartan shield at the dark being.
Those familiar, safe wings spread all about her, lengthening and reaching backward to safely encase her.
There was lunging and more hissing; together she and Jax moved as one—she tightly held between his wings, he battling for both their lives. Still she burned to get in the fight, not to cower, and she hated that she couldn’t see a thing except Ajax’s black wings. Then he stepped forward, releasing her with a dancing sidestep, and in horror she realized that Sable was already back on him—and that the other demon hadn’t been fazed by any of Jax’s maneuvers. The demon flew at them, screeching, and one of its nasty wings sliced through an azalea bush, sending bright pink blossoms flying into the air all around them.
She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she took off at breakneck speed for the actual museum house, ignor ing the sounds of flying hoofbeats and leather wings flap ping right on her heels. When she reached the downstairs door—the one that led to the cistern area—she bounded inside, but the demons moved seamlessly through the closed partition and into the old basement right on her heels.
Great, supersmart move, she thought. There was only one way in—and one way out—with this lower level: the main door. For some reason she’d been thinking that a set of stairs would lead to the upper floor.
To the right was the original kitchen, with its antiquated bricks and fixtures; at the back of the hallway stood the old cistern. For lack of a better plan Shay bolted toward the latter, leaping over its containing wall.
Sable trotted near, slow and methodical, his ugly face twisted into a cruel, triumphant sneer. “Bad move, little mortal,” he taunted, glancing sideways at his compatriot. “You’ve made it much too easy for us to take you.”
Jax stormed into the small basement area, right on their heels. His breathing came heavily, and his naturally olive-skinned face seemed ashen. Shay gasped when she saw the reason: His right wing had been slashed nearly straight through. It hung awkwardly at his side like dead weight, his black feathers even darker than usual because of his own heavily drenching blood.
“Ajax!”
He raised his right arm in a charging motion, silencing her at the same time. She covered her mouth with her hand, biting back further cries even though she could hardly look anywhere else except at his maimed wing. It dragged the floor, lagging several feet behind him as he approached, his bright red blood streaking the stone floor. Incredibly purposeful and silent, he pursued the demons, seemingly unaware of how critically injured he was.
Sable lunged forward, forelegs braced along the cis tern wall, grabbing at her; at the same moment the black-faced demon slid into the small area, ready to take hold of her. Jax attacked before she could breathe, before she could even blink. There was no noise except the flurry of violent wings and the heaving of his hawk’s breast, the piercing cries of her dark angel flying at the attackers.
He scooped her into his arms and soared toward the ceiling. She braced, actually covering her head, thinking that somehow he’d forgotten she couldn’t pass through walls. But yet again his spectacular magic protected her, and in less than a breath she found herself in the house’s upstairs hall once again. He sagged against her slightly, holding to her.
“Your wing, Jax.” She spun toward him, reaching for the appendage with both hands. “You have to get us out of here, let me take care of the wound.”
He bit down on his lip, shaking his head. “Regenerates. Fast,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Then he was already studying the staircase, assessing escape routes. “We don’t have long.”
From the entry level the pair of demons burst forth, slamming the door behind them so hard that it sent splinters of wood flying. Jax ushered her into the dining room, a large D-shaped room, shoving past terrified tourists and the shouting docent. The group huddled in alarm, clearly confused by all the disaster being created by assailants they couldn’t see with their own mortal eyes. Although the tangible evidence of the supernatu ral struggle was physically happening, the demons—as well as Jax and herself—were fighting in another dimen sion. The tour guide quickly ushered the tourists out of the room, leaving the dining area an empty battlefield, for all purposes.
Sable circled on one side of the long antique table, Jax and Shay on the other. It was like a standoff in some ridiculous Hollywood bar fight scene, one where at any moment a cowboy was going to smash a bottle of booze over Jax’s head.
As if reading her thoughts, Sable reached for that very object she’d just imagined him using, a rare Wedgwood vase. And, just as she’d imagined, he hurled it straight at Jax’s head.
“Watch the art, pal!” she shouted as Jax ducked the hurling projectile, pulling her toward the floor with him.
“None of the patrons can see this battle,” Jax an swered, his breathing heavy as he urged her up underneath the table, crawling beside her.
“I got that part. But they can see the damage!”
“They’ll just think the place is haunted.” He moved on his elbows as if the Oriental rug were the front lines of the Western Front, covering her whole body with his injured wing . . . which, come to think of it, already seemed fully functional once again. But the scent of his recently spilled blood still hit her nose like an assault, making her fear for his safety.
“It’s not the tourists I’m worried about,” she hissed back at him, studying Sable’s long, horsey legs as he moved about the table. They had him on the agility front; no way could he—nor probably any of his cohorts—climb underneath the table they were now using to shield themselves. Unless they got the bright idea to hurl the polished table down the hallway. Hopefully none of them would be that smart.
She peered out from underneath the table’s far edge just in time to see Sable’s hindquarters nearly knock over yet another antique vase.
“Demons and warriors!” she shouted in outrage, bounding to her feet. “For the last time! Watch. Out. For. The. Art!”
Sable laughed and, using his wide hindquarters, intentionally shoved the antique to the floor.
“You’re just egging him on,” Jax told her out of the side of his mouth, thrusting his sword at Spindly Demon. “Besides, what’s the big deal?”
Nothing like a lover’s quarrel at full throttle. “It’s art! It’s beautiful!” She breathed heavily, putting her back to the wall. “All right, so you’re a Spartan . . . art isn’t high on your radar.”
Jax eyed Sable, who’d begun stomping the floor. “Not like survival is.”
Shay pointed at the centaur, still talking to Jax. “Okay, this guy’s fixing to get on my last nerve.”
“What shall I do then, my lady?” Jax moved forward, shield raised.
“Go kick his demon ass—and let me kick some, too, while you’re at it.”
She reached toward his holster, but he’d already anticipated her maneuver. He slid River into her hand, passed him off like a baton in a relay race, and she clasped the hilt of his dagger form gratefully.
“Thanks, River,” she whispered. “I’ll owe you big-time for this.”
With a spinning lunge she ran at the other demon. Per haps he hadn’t expected her to go on the offensive, or perhaps she possessed some heightened huntress’s skill that she wasn’t aware of—but whatever the case, the de mon didn’t seem able to resist her assault. Or maybe he tried, but she simply overcame his barriers. She had no idea, really, because the motion happened faster than she could blink. One moment she was lunging, and the next she was already sinking River’s dagger form deep into the thing’s chest. A hissing sound escaped from the wound like air rushing out of a tire. The long, demonic jaws that had seemed so menacing just a moment before sagged as the creature flapped and sucked at air.
Jerking her arm back and forth, she pried River out of the demon’s body, prayed very hard, and then plunged the dagger back into the demon several more times. At last the beast dropped to its knees and collapsed face first right on the Oriental rug. Not two seconds after that his body turned to black, misty vapor. And then there was just nothing left at all except some mystified and frightened tourists, who had massed in the main foyer and were screeching louder than any demon horde ever could, probably all the more terrified because they couldn’t see any cause for all the upheaval and destruction going on around them.
Victory was short-lived, unfortunately. Shay turned to find Jax flat on his back, pinned beneath one of Sable’s hooves.
“You won’t beat me to the looking glass,” he threatened, leaning his massive bulk onto Ajax.
She tensed her own body in reaction, practically feeling the pain that must be weighing on her lover’s chest.
Sable leaned even harder on Jax, who barely managed to stifle a cry of pain. The heavy hoof was planted near the center of his chest, directly above his heart.
Sneering down at Jax’s prone form, Sable seethed. “I will find the looking glass first . . . and I will then use it for your ultimate punishment. I will win by depriving you of an eternity spent with her.”
Sable reared wildly, lifted his sword, and sent it singing through the air—aimed right at Shay.
“No!” Ajax roared, rolling out from beneath Sable.
Shay felt frozen to the spot, unable to move, but this time she wasn’t letting the demon get the better of her. Words came pouring out of her spirit, over her tongue—ancient words from their sacred texts. Just as the hymn had worked at her mother’s funeral, these words seemed to have an impact. Sable gaped at her in horror as the chants continued to roll off her tongue.
The tomes had said they had the power to paralyze a demon—and she hadn’t recalled them until this precise moment, right when she needed them to use as an as sault against their enemies. She had a feeling that their sudden appearance in her mind had more to do with the powers of righteousness than with any particular recall abilities of her own.
She moved her mouth, amazed as the ancient Greek words strung together, forming a spiritual sword that was rapier sharp. The centaur appeared paralyzed in midleap; the sword hung suspended in the air, still aimed at her chest. Its hilt vibrated, humming slightly from the momentum of being halted so firmly.
The words became far more than mere language—they were becoming something physical, a genuine weapon in the spirit realm. They grew louder as they poured out of her, and she vaguely wondered why the sword hadn’t pierced her straight through.
The words stopped bubbling out of her, and an eerie, peaceful silence settled over the entire room. Ajax knelt on the floor, panting, beaming up at her in obvious pride. All around them the dark forces had been bound as if by powerful restraints. Only she and Ajax could move; good thing they weren’t demons, she thought, assessing her “damage” with raised eyebrows.
Slowly Shay collapsed against the wall and sank all the way to the floor.
“My little huntress. A power-packing woman if ever I’ve seen one.” Jax shook his head as if in wonder, brush ing off his hands as he rose to his feet. With a glowering look at Sable’s statuesque form, he asked, “How long will he stay this way?”
“Beats me.” Her whole body quivered with tremors. “So we’d better get the hell out of here.”
Their gazes locked, they both laughed, and at the exact same time they said, “Bad choice of words.”
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