Читать книгу The Hollows Series Books 1-4 - Kim Harrison, Ким Харрисон - Страница 32

I gasped, my heart pounding.

The dog yawned with a little whine at the end. “Must be you,” it said. Its skin rippled like amber fire, then it leapt at us.

“Look out!” Nick shouted, pushing me clear as the slavering dog landed on the table.

I hit the floor, rolling to a crouch. Nick cried out in pain. There was a crash as the table slid into the racks. It shifted back when the dog jumped off it. The heavy plastic shattered.

“Nick!” I cried, seeing him crumpled in a heap. The monster stood over him, nosing him. Blood stained the floor. “Get off him!” I shouted. Jenks was at the ceiling, powerless.

The dog turned to me. My breath caught. Its irises were red surrounded by a sickly orange color, and its pupils were slit sideways like a goat’s. Never taking my eyes off it, I backed up. Fingers fumbling, I pulled my silver dagger from my ankle. I swear a doggy smile curved around its savage canines as I shrugged out of my coat and kicked off my old lady heels.

Nick groaned and moved. He was alive. A wash of relief swept me. Jenks was on his shoulder, yelling in his ear to get up.

“Rachel Mariana Morgan,” the dog said, its voice black and honey sweet. I shivered in the basement’s cold air, waiting. “One of you is afraid of dogs,” it said, sounding amused. “I don’t think it’s you.”

“Come find out,” I said boldly. My heart was pounding, and I adjusted my grip on my dagger as I began to tremble. Dogs shouldn’t talk. They shouldn’t.

It took a step forward. I stared, mouth agape, as its front legs lengthened, pushing itself upward into a walking position. It thinned out, becoming manlike. Clothes appeared: artfully torn blue jeans, a black leather jacket, and a chain running from its belt loop to his wallet. It had spiked hair, colored red to match its ruddy complexion. Eyes were hidden behind black plastic sunglasses. I couldn’t move from the shock of it as a bad-boy swagger came into its steps.

“I was sent to kill you,” it said in a seedy London accent, still approaching as it finished turning into a cobbled-street gang member. “I was told to make sure you died afraid, sweet. Wasn’t given much to go on. Might take a while.”

I lurched back, only now realizing it was almost on me.

With motion almost too quick to be seen, its hand jerked forward like a piston. It hit me before I knew it had moved. My cheek exploded into a fiery agony, then went numb. A second blow to the shoulder lifted me. My stomach dropped, and I crashed backward into a book rack.

I struck the floor, books pummeling me as they fell. Shaking the stars from my vision, I rose. Nick had dragged himself between two racks of books. Blood ran from under his hair and down his neck. His face wore a look of awe and fear. He touched his head, looking at the blood as if it meant something. I met his eyes across the room. The thing was between us.

I gasped as it sprang, its hands grasping. I dropped to a knee. I swung my knife, lurching as it went right through it. Horrified, I scrambled out of its reach. It kept coming. Its entire face had gone misty, reforming as my knife passed through. What the hell was it?

“Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it mocked. “I’m here for you.”

It reached out and I turned to run. A heavy hand grabbed my shoulder. It whipped me back around. The thing held me, and I froze as its other red-skinned hand folded into a murderous-looking fist. Grinning to show startling white teeth, it pulled its arm back. It was going for my middle.

I barely got my arm down to block it. Its fist hit my arm. The sudden shock of pain took my breath away. I fell to my knees, a scream ripping from me as I clutched my arm. It followed me down. Arm held close, I rolled away.

It landed heavy and hot to crush me under it. Its breath was steam upon my face. Its long fingers gripped my shoulder until I cried out. Its free hand snaked its way under my dress and up my inner thigh, roughly searching. My eyes widened in astonishment. What the hell?

Its face was inches before mine. I could see my shock mirrored in its sunglasses. A tongue slipped past its teeth. Warm and disgusting, it ran its tongue from my chin to my ear. Nails dug at my underwear. It savagely pulled at them, making them cut into me.

Jolted into action, I knocked the sunglasses askew. My nails dug at its orange irises.

Its surprised cry bought me a quick breath. In the instant of confusion, I pushed it off me and rolled away. A heavy boot smelling of ash lashed out, striking my kidney. Gasping, I huddled in a fetal position curved around my knife. That time I had gotten it. It had been too distracted to turn misty. If it could feel pain, then it could die.

“Not afraid of rape, sweet?” it said, sounding pleased. “You’re one tough little bitch.”

It grasped my shoulder, and I fought back, helpless against the long red fingers that pulled me stumbling up. My eyes flicked to Nick and the sound of heavy blows. He was hammering at the locked wooden cabinet with a leg from the table. His blood was everywhere. Jenks was on his shoulder, his wings red in fear.

The air blurred before me, and I staggered as I realized the thing had changed again. The hand now gripping my shoulder was smoothed. Panting, I looked up to see it had become a tall, sophisticated young man dressed in a formal frock and coat. A pair of smoked glasses was perched on its narrow nose. I was sure I had hit it, but what I could see of its eyes looked undamaged. Was it a vamp? A really old vampire?

“Perhaps you’re afraid of pain?” the vision of an elegant man said, its accent now proper enough for even Professor Henry Higgins.

I jerked away, stumbling into a book rack. Grinning, it reached after me. It picked me up and threw me across the room at Nick, who was still hammering at the cabinet.

My back hit it with enough force to knock the air from me. The clatter of my knife on the floor was loud as my fingers lost their grip. Struggling to breathe, I slid down the broken cabinet, ending up half sitting on the shelves behind the shattered doors. I was helpless as the thing lifted me by my dress front.

“What are you?” I rasped.

“Whatever scares you.” It smiled to show flat teeth. “What scares you, Rachel Mariana Morgan?” it asked. “It isn’t pain. It isn’t rape. It doesn’t seem to be monsters.”

“Nothing,” I panted, spitting at it.

My saliva sizzled as it hit its face. Reminded of Ivy’s saliva on my neck, I shuddered.

Its eyes went wide in pleasure. “You’re afraid of the soulless shadows,” it whispered in delight. “You’re afraid of dying in the loving embrace of a soulless shadow. Your death is going to be a pleasure for both of us, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Such a twisted way to die—in pleasure. It might have been better for your soul had you been afraid of dogs.”

I lashed out, striking its face to leave four scratch marks. It didn’t flinch. Blood oozed out, too thick and red. It twisted both my arms behind me, gripping my wrists with one hand. Nausea doubled me over as it pulled on my arm and shoulder. It pushed me up against the wall, crushing me. I got my good hand free and swung.

It caught my wrist before I could reach it. I met its gaze and felt my knees go weak. The gentleman’s frock had shrunk to a leather jacket and black pants. Blond hair and a lightly stubbled face replaced its ruddy complexion. Twin earrings caught the light. Kisten smiled at me, a red tongue beckoning. “You have a taste for vamps, little witch?” it whispered.

I twisted, trying to get away. “Not quite right,” it murmured, and I struggled as its features shifted yet again. It grew smaller, only a head taller than I. Its hair grew long and straight and black. The blond stubble vanished, and the complexion paled to a ghost. Kisten’s square jaw smoothed out to an oval.

“Ivy,” I whispered, going slack in terror.

“You give me a name,” it said, its voice becoming slow and feminine. “You want this?”

I tried to swallow. I couldn’t move. “You don’t scare me,” I whispered.

Its eyes flashed black. “Ivy does.”

I stiffened, trying to jerk away as it brought my wrist closer. “No!” I screamed as it opened its mouth to show fangs. It bit deep, and I screamed. Fire raced up my arm and into my body. It chewed at my wrist like a dog as I writhed, trying to pull away.

I felt skin tear as I twisted. I brought my knee up and pushed it away. It let go. I fell back panting, transfixed. It was as if Ivy stood before me, my blood dripping from her smile. A hand rose to brush the hair from its eyes, leaving a red smear across its forehead.

I couldn’t … I couldn’t deal with this. Taking a gasping breath, I ran for the door.

The thing snaked an arm out with a vampire’s quickness and jerked me back. Pain flared as it slammed me against the cement wall. Ivy’s pale hand pinned me. “Let me show you what vamps do behind locked doors, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it breathed.

I realized I was going to die in the basement of the university library.

The thing that was Ivy leaned close. I could feel my pulse pushing at my skin. My wrist tingled warmly. Ivy’s face was inches from mine. It was getting better at pulling images out of my head. There was a crucifix around its neck, and I could smell orange juice. Its eyes were smoky with a remembered look of sultry hunger. “No,” I whispered. “Please, no.”

“I can have you anytime I want, little witch,” it whispered, the gray silk of its voice twin to Ivy’s.

I panicked, struggling helplessly. The thing that looked like Ivy grinned to show teeth. “You are so afraid,” it whispered lovingly, tilting its head so its black hair brushed my shoulder. “Don’t be so afraid. You’ll like it. Didn’t I say you would?”

I jerked as something touched my neck. A small sound escaped me as I realized it was a quick tongue. “You’re going to love it,” it said in Ivy’s throaty whisper. “Scout’s honor.”

Images of being pinned to Ivy’s chair flooded back. The thing holding me against the wall groaned in pleasure and nuzzled my head aside. Terrified, I screamed.

“Oh, please,” the thing moaned as I felt the cool, icy sharpness of teeth graze my neck. “Oh, please. Now …”

“No!” I shrieked, and it drove its teeth into me. Three times it lunged with rapid, hungry motions. I buckled in its grip. Still fastened to me, we dropped to the floor. It crushed me under it against the cold cement. Fire burned at my neck. A twin sensation rose up my wrist, joining it in my head. Shudders racked me. I could hear it sucking at me, feel the rhythmic pulls as it tried to take more than my body could give.

I gasped as a tangy sensation broke over me. I stiffened, unable to separate pain from pleasure. It was … was …

“Get off her!” Nick shouted.

I heard a thump and felt a jarring. The thing pulled itself off me.

I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. I lay sprawled on the floor, transfixed and numb under the vampire-induced stupor. Jenks hovered over me, the breeze on my neck from his wings sending tingling jolts through me.

Nick stood with blood dripping into his eyes. He had a book in his hands. It was so large, he was struggling with it. He was mumbling under his breath, looking pale and frightened. His eyes darted from the book to the thing beside me.

It melted back into a dog. Snarling, it leapt at Nick.

“Nick,” I whispered as Jenks fanned pixy dust onto my neck. “Look out …”

“Laqueus!” Nick shouted, juggling the book against a raised knee as he flung out a hand.

The dog slammed into something and fell to the ground. I watched from the floor as it picked itself up and shook its head as if dazed. Snarling, it jumped at him again, falling back a second time. “You bound me!” it raged, melting from one form to another in a grotesque kaleidoscope of shapes. It looked to the floor and the circle Nick had made of his own blood. “You don’t have the knowledge to call me from the ever-after!” it shouted.

Hunched over the book, Nick licked his lips. “No. But I can bind you in a circle once you’re here.” He sounded hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure.

As Jenks stood on my outstretched palm and sifted pixy dust onto my ravaged wrist, the thing hammered against the unseen barrier. Smoke curled from the floor where its feet touched the cement. “Not again!” it raged. “Let me out!”

Nick swallowed hard and strode past the blood and fallen books to me. “My God, Rachel,” he said as the book dropped to the floor with the sound of tearing pages. Jenks was dabbing at the blood on my face, singing a fast-paced lullaby about dew and moonbeams.

I looked from the broken book on the floor to Nick. “Nick?” I quavered, riveted to his silhouette against the ugly fluorescent lights. “I can’t move.” Panic washed through me. “I can’t move, Nick! I think it paralyzed me!”

“No. No,” he said, glancing at the dog. Settling himself behind me, he pulled me up to sit slumped against him. “It’s the vampire saliva. It will wear off.”

Cradled in his arms and half in his lap, I felt myself start to go cold. Numb, I gazed up at him. His brown eyes were pinched. His jaw was clenched in worry. The blood ran from his scalp, making a slow rivulet down his face to soak his shirt. His hands were red and sticky, but his arms around me were warm. I started to shiver.

“Nick?” I quavered. My attention followed his to the thing. It was a dog again. It stood there, staring at us. Saliva dripped from it. Its muscles quivered. “Is that a vampire?”

“No,” he said tersely. “It’s a demon, but if it’s strong enough, it has the abilities of whatever form it assumes. You’ll be able to move in a minute.” His long face screwed up in distress as he looked at the blood splattered about the room. “You’re going to be all right.” Still keeping me in the cradle of his lap, he used my silver knife to rip the bottom of his shirt. “You’re going to be all right,” he whispered as he tied the rag around my wrist and set it gently in my lap. I moaned at the unexpected bliss that rose from my wrist at the rough movement.

“Nick?” There were black sparkles between me and the lights. It was fascinating. “There aren’t any more demons. There hasn’t been a demon attack since the Turn.”

“I took three years of Demonology as a Second Language to help me with my Latin,” he said, stretching to reach my bag as Jenks tugged it out from the wreck of the table. “That thing is a demon.” Keeping my head in his lap, he clattered through my things. “Do you have anything for pain in here?”

“No,” I said dreamily. “I like pain.” Face going slack, Nick’s gaze shot to mine and then to Jenks’s. “No one takes demonology,” I protested weakly, wanting to giggle. “It’s, like, the most useless thing in the world.” My gaze drifted to the cabinet. The doors were still shut, but the panels had been broken by Nick’s hammering and me being thrown into it. Beyond the splintered wood was an empty spot the size of the book on the floor beside me. So that’s what they hide in a locked cabinet, in a locked room, behind a locked door, in the basement of a government building. I squinted at Nick. “You know how to call demons?” I questioned. God help me, but I felt good. All light and airy. “You’re a black practitioner. I arrest people like you,” I said, trying to run a finger down his jawline.

“Not exactly.” Nick took my hand and set it down. Shaking the cuff of his sweatshirt past his hand, he used it to brush the blood from my face. “Don’t try to talk, Rachel. You lost a lot of blood.” He turned to Jenks, his eyes frightened. “I can’t take her on the bus like this!”

Jenks’s face looked pained. “I’ll get Ivy.” He dropped to my shoulder and whispered, “Hold on, Rache. I’ll be right back.” He flitted to Nick, the breeze from his wings sending more waves of euphoria through me. I closed my eyes and rode it, hoping it would never end.

“If you let her die here, I’ll kill you myself,” Jenks threatened, and Nick nodded. Jenks left with the sound of a thousand bees. The sound echoed in my head even after he was gone.

“It can’t get out?” I asked, opening my eyes as my emotions swung from one extreme to the other and tears welled.

Nick shoved the big book of demon spells in my bag. His bloody handprints were all over both of them. “No. And when the sun rises, poof, it’s gone. You’re safe. Hush.” He tucked my knife in my bag and stretched for my coat.

“We’re in a basement,” I protested. “There’s no sun down here.”

Nick ripped the lining from my coat and pressed it against my neck. I cried out as a pulse of ecstasy shot through me from the lingering effects of the vampire saliva. The bleeding had slowed, and I wondered if it was from Jenks’s pixy dust. Apparently it could do more than make people itch.

“It’s not sunlight that pulls a demon back to the ever-after,” Nick said, clearly thinking he had hurt me. “It’s something about gamma rays or protons. … Damn it, Rachel. Stop asking me so many questions. It was taught as an aid to understand language development, not to learn how to control demons.”

The demon was Ivy again, and I shuddered as it licked its red lips with a bloodstained tongue, taunting me. “What grade did you get, Nick?” I asked. “Please tell me it was an A.”

“Uh …” he stammered as he covered me with my coat. Looking frantic, he gathered me up in his arms, almost rocking me. My breath hissed in as my wrist throbbed in time with the pulses from my neck. “Easy,” he shushed. “You’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?” came a cultured voice from the corner.

Nick’s head came up. Cradled in Nick’s arms, I stared at the demon. It was back to wearing a gentleman’s frock. “Let me out. I can help you,” the demon said, all congeniality.

Nick hesitated. “Nick?” I said, suddenly frightened. “Don’t listen to it. Don’t!”

The demon smiled over its smoked glasses, showing flat, even teeth. “Break the circle and I’ll take you to her Ivy. Otherwise …” The demon’s brow furrowed as if it was worried. “It almost looks as if there’s more blood outside of her than in.”

Nick’s gaze darted over the blood splattered on the walls and books. His grip on me tightened. “You were trying to kill her,” he said, his voice cracking.

It shrugged. “I was compelled to. By binding me in your circle, you rubbed out the one that was used to summon me. With it went any compulsion to do his bidding. I’m all yours, little wizard.” It grinned, and my breath came in a quick, fear-laced pant.

“Nicky …” I whispered as my blood-loss induced stupor was stripped away. This was bad. I knew this was bad. The remembered terror as it savaged me rose high. My pulse faltered as my heart tried to beat faster.

“Can you get us back to her church?” Nick asked.

“The one by the small ley line?” The demon’s outline wavered as its expression turned startled. “Someone closed a circle with it six nights ago. The ripple it sent through the ever-after shook the cups on my saucers, so to speak.” It tilted its head in speculation. “That was you?”

“No,” Nick said weakly.

I felt ill. I had used too much salt. God help me. I didn’t know demons could sense it when I drew on a ley line. If I lived through this, I’d never use them again.

The demon gazed at me. “I can take you there,” it said. “But in return I want no compulsion put on me to return to the ever-after.”

Nick’s grip tightened. “You want me to let you loose in Cincinnati for the entire night?”

A power-filled smile edged over the demon. It exhaled slowly, and I heard the joints in its shoulder crack. “I mean to kill the one who summoned me. Then I’ll leave. It smells over here.” It looked over its smoked glasses, shocking me with its alien eyes. “You won’t ever call me—will you, little wizard? I could teach you so much that you want to know.”

Fear fought with the pain in my shoulder as Nick hesitated before shaking his head.

“You won’t hurt us,” Nick said. “Mentally, physically, or emotionally. You will take the most direct path and do nothing to endanger us afterward.”

“Nick Nicky,” the demon pouted. “One might think you didn’t trust me. I can even get you there before her Ivy leaves if I take you through a ley line. But you’d better hurry. Rachel Mariana Morgan seems to be failing fast.”

Through the ever-after? I thought in panic. No! That’s what had killed my dad.

Nick swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No!” I tried to shout, squirming to get out of his grip. The stupor from its saliva was almost gone, and with the return of movement came pain. I welcomed the hurt, knowing the pleasure had been a lie. Nick was white-faced as he tried to keep me unmoving and hold the lining of my coat against my neck.

“Rachel,” he whispered. “You’ve lost so much blood. I don’t know what to do!”

My throat was too parched to swallow. “Don’t—Don’t let it out,” I insisted. “Please,” I pleaded as I pushed his hands off of me. “I’m fine. The bleeding has stopped. I’ll be all right. Leave me here. Go call Ivy. She’ll pick us up. I don’t want to go through the ever-after.”

The demon’s brow furrowed as if it was concerned. “Mmmm,” he mused gently, touching the lace at his throat. “Sounds like she’s going incoherent. Not good. Tick-tock, Nick Nicky. Better decide quick.”

Nick’s breath hissed in and he tensed. His gaze roved over the pool of blood on the floor and then me. “I’ve got to do something,” he whispered. “You’re so cold, Rachel.”

“Nick, no!” I shouted as he set me on the floor and lurched into a stand. Reaching out with a foot, he smeared the line of blood.

I heard a frightened wail. I covered my mouth as I realized it was coming from me. Terror pulsed through me as the demon shuddered. It slowly stepped across the line. It ran a hand across the bloodstained wall and licked its finger, never taking its eyes off of me.

“Don’t let it touch me!” My voice was high-pitched. I could hear the hysteria in it.

“Rachel,” Nick soothed as he knelt beside me. “It said it won’t hurt you. Demons don’t lie. It was in every text I copied.”

“They don’t tell the truth, either!” I exclaimed.

Ire flickered behind the demon’s eyes, smothered in a wave of false concern for me before Nick could see. It came forward, and I struggled to push myself back. “Don’t let it touch me!” I cried. “Don’t make me do this!”

The fear in Nick’s eyes was for how I was acting, not from the demon. He didn’t understand. He thought he knew what he was doing. He thought his books had all the answers. He didn’t know what he was doing. I did.

Nick gripped my shoulder and turned to the demon. “Can you help her?” he asked it. “She’s going to kill herself.”

“Nick, no!” I shrieked as the demon knelt to put its grinning face next to mine.

“Sleep, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it breathed, and I remembered no more.