The elevator opened directly onto the rooftop. Piers stood at her side, her hand clasped in his as though he sensed her nerves. Christian and Tara were behind them. The Walker had agreed to meet, and he would be here in a matter of minutes. Her insides churned with a combination of fear and anticipation.
As Roz stepped outside, Asmodai appeared out of nowhere, and she jumped. He was in his demon guise, nearly seven feet tall, huge black wings furled at his back. He tossed her a bundle. “Put it on.”
Roz pulled free of Piers and caught it. She shook out the material and found a black, velvet cloak, full-length and hooded. Obviously, Asmodai wanted her hidden. But why?
“You ashamed of me?” she asked.
A smile flickered across his lips. “Let’s just say, it might be better to get the bad news out of the way first.”
“He’s right,” Piers said. “For once.”
Wrapping the cloak around her, she pulled the hood over her hair. “It’s hot in here.”
“I don’t think it will be for long.” He gestured across the rooftop to where a group of faint figures was taking form.
Asmodai stood on one side of her, while Tara came to stand on the other. She slipped her hand in Roz’s and squeezed. Piers and Christian stood in front—the not-very-welcoming committee. Tension radiated from them, and the air thrummed with suppressed power.
The figures glowed with a pale luminescence that faded, revealing two men and a large gray cat. Beside her, Tara let out a small cry, tugged her hand free, and ran forward. She scooped up the cat and rained kisses down on its face. A low growl trickled from Christian, but Tara merely tossed him a grin.
Roz had almost been scared to look. Now she forced her attention to the two men. They could almost pass for human: tall, slender, both with silver-gilt hair down to their shoulders and long faces with pale skin and sharp cheekbones. They were hauntingly beautiful, and the air around them filled with a sweet subtle scent.
They were also almost identical, but she knew immediately which one was the Walker. She recognized him from those long ago memories, and she took an instinctive step forward. Asmodai stopped her, a hand on her arm. She threw him a filthy look but held herself still. Piers glanced back over his shoulder, and she nodded once. An expression of sympathy filled his eyes. He really didn’t like her father, and she was guessing the feeling was mutual.
Christian and Piers moved forward.
“Hey, Walker,” Piers said, “nice to see you’re still trying to blend in.”
Both the fae wore tight black pants tucked into long black leather boots and loose white shirts, and both wore swords at their sides.
The Walker ignored the comment. His crystal green gaze moved over their small group, not pausing on Roz, but narrowing when they settled on the demon beside her.
“Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” Piers waved a hand to the second fae who stood silent, his gaze fixed on Tara.
“This is my brother, Fallon, the leader of our people and the girl’s grandfather.”
Tara stopped cuddling the cat and stared.
“He wished to see her for himself.”
Fallon stepped forward. “I would talk with her while you conduct your business. Only if she wishes it.”
Tara nodded, and the two stepped away.
“Don’t go out of sight,” Christian said.
“She’ll be safe,” the Walker replied. “Now for this business. Why have you summoned me? And why is he”—he gestured toward Asmodai—“here?”
“Well, he is sort of family now,” Piers said. “And he is involved in this.”
“This?”
“We might have a small problem,” Christian said.
“A huge one, actually.”
“Speak it then.” The Walker’s tone was impatient.
So far, Roz wasn’t impressed. She could feel the fear rising inside her. But she wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. That he wouldn’t recognize her, that he wouldn’t acknowledge her. Or that he would, and he would hate her, want her dead…
“Andarta has the Key of Solon,” Piers said.
The Walker had been pacing the rooftop, but now he swung around to face them. “That can’t be. The Key was destroyed as part of the Accords.”
“Not exactly. It seems that the fact of its destruction might have been exaggerated.” Piers glanced back at Asmodai, who shrugged.
“I lied,” he said. “The Key was never destroyed, merely hidden.” He stepped closer and spread his wings, blocking out the starlit sky. “What are you going to do about it?”
“What is the Order going to do about it?” the Walker snarled, his hand resting on his sword.
Christian and Piers stepped closer to the two.
There was way too much testosterone on this rooftop. The air throbbed with power until Roz felt as though it must explode.
The Walker glanced across to where his brother stood with Tara. They were close together, but were looking their way. Fallon made a cutting motion with his hand and some of the tension eased out of the Walker.
“Much as I’d like to make my displeasure a little more concrete, I won’t risk a fight where my brother might be hurt.”
“How about if we promise not to touch him?” Piers said.
“Piers,” Christian snapped.
Piers shrugged. “Okay, no fight.” He glanced over his shoulder at Roz. “Probably for the best anyway, under the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?” the Walker asked. “Is there something else I should know?”
“Later,” Christian said quickly.
“So, do you know what Andarta plans?”
“Same old,” Piers drawled. “Take over the worlds, enslave all other races, wreak havoc and destruction.”
“And have you a plan to stop her?”
“We haven’t quite worked that one out yet. This meeting was more in the way of a heads up.”
“Then I should get back and warn my people, prepare them for invasion. Thanks to your incompetence.”
“We think they’ll attack Earth first,” Christian said.
“So?”
“We’d like you to help.”
“And why would I do that? Why would I lift one finger to help? I’d stand by and watch all humanity die with a smile on my face.”
“Why do you hate them so much?” Asmodai asked.
“None of your business, demon.”
“I have a few theories. Well, only one actually, but it’s a good one.”
The Walker clamped his lips together and whirled around, heading toward where his brother still stood with Tara.
“You blame them for the loss of something you loved,” Asmodai called after him.
He stopped walking but didn’t turn back. “You know nothing.”
“I know more than you think.” Asmodai turned to her and held out a hand. “Rosamund?”
The Walker’s back stiffened, every muscle locking tight, then he turned. His face was expressionless. Roz took the demon’s hand and allowed him to pull her forward. She reached up and pushed the hood from her face. She still had no idea how this was going to go down, had no clue what he was thinking.
She bit her lip, tasted blood, and saw Piers turn toward her. He stepped closer, grabbed her free hand, and pulled her away from Asmodai.
She wasn’t sure whether he was aiming to comfort her or staking a claim. It didn’t matter; at his touch, strength flowed through her. She stood up taller, not that it would do much good. Among this lot she was a midget.
“Rosamund?” The Walker’s voice was soft, disbelieving.
She nodded, and Piers’ hand tightened on hers.
“You’re alive?”
“Obviously.”
He appeared dazed. “All this time, I believed you dead.”
“And I believed you had abandoned us. Left us to die. That you didn’t care.”
“I cared.”
“Then why?” All the old resentment rose up inside her and the words came out almost as a scream. She pulled free of Piers’ hold and squared up on the fae, hands on her hips. “Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you come back?” She’d always tried not to think of her father, tried not to remember him, as his betrayal carried too much pain. Now the suppressed rage of all those years came spilling out. “She died screaming your name.”
His face blanched of the little color it held. “I’m sorry.”
She could see from his expression that he was, but it wasn’t enough. “Then tell me why.”
“I left because there was a war on and I had no choice but to answer the call of my king.” His gaze flickered to his brother. “But I gave your mother a ring—a talisman—that she could use to call me, told her that if she needed me, I would come.”
“Fat lot of good that did. She called to you over and over but you never came.”
He swallowed. “I was a prisoner. There was a great battle, and I was captured and awaiting ransom when I got the call. I begged them to let me go, promised on my honor to return, and they refused. In the end, I killed the guards and broke free, but it was too late. I got there to find the village destroyed and two stakes all that remained. I found her ring among the ashes and presumed you had both died.”
His voice was filled with remembered horror, and some of the tension inside her loosened. He hadn’t abandoned them through choice. He had cared. Still, she couldn’t find it in herself to forgive him completely. He should never have left them so vulnerable. He should have taken them somewhere safe. No doubt, he’d been too ashamed of their mixed blood to take her to his people.
“You survived,” he said. “How?”
“After my mother was dead, they were coming for me. I called for help and someone answered.”
“Someone?”
“I saved her,” Asmodai said, his tone smug.
The fae’s eyes narrowed on the demon. “At what price?”
“Nothing I wasn’t willing to pay.” That wasn’t quite true, but there would be time to go into details later.
“You lay with a demon?” His tone held barely suppressed horror.
“Yeah, get over it. I’m five hundred years old—you expect me to still be a virgin?”
“But a demon.” He glanced at Piers, who stood at her back. “Still, things could have been worse.”
Why did she think things were going to get a whole lot worse, very quickly? She bit back a grin at the idea, as Piers came up behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against the length of his body. She stiffened for a moment, before relaxing against him. There was no point in putting this off, and her “father” had better get used to the idea. From the horrified expression on his face, it looked like that was going to take some doing.
“Let go of her,” he snarled. “Do you mean to use her as a hostage for my good behavior? Even you wouldn’t stoop so low.”
“I might, if I had to, but in this case I don’t.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, nuzzling the side of her neck. Okay, so her father needed to know, and she wasn’t ashamed of Piers, but she had an inkling he was being an asshole.
“But don’t think I’m any happier about this development than you are,” Piers said. “I’d have run a mile if I’d realized who she really was.”
Roz elbowed him in the gut.
“Hey, I might have run, but I would have let you catch me…eventually.”
She pulled free. “Lay off winding him up. I thought you wanted his help.”
Piers sighed. “We do. But come on, Walker, tell me one thing. I get you had to leave them, but why not take them somewhere safe? Why not take them to the Faelands where they could be watched?”
“There were reasons.”
“Which were?”
“Nothing I wish to go into right now. But Rosamund, believe me, I was never ashamed of you or your mother. I loved you both. Give me the chance, and I’ll prove that to you.”
“The chance?”
“Come back with me now. Let me show you my world, my people.”
Roz searched his face. He appeared to be genuine. Maybe what Piers had hinted at was right. He should have tried harder. He should have kept them safe. She suspected he carried around a great weight of guilt for not doing that.
But she also knew that her memories of his love had not been lies. That he had cared for her back then. Could that emotion have survived over the intervening years? This was the man who would have slit his own niece’s throat just for some purity-of-the-blood shit ideals. The man who had just claimed he would stand by and watch humanity die with a smile on his face. It came to her then why he felt that way. “That’s why you hate them, isn’t it—because they killed my mother?”
He gave a sharp nod. “I failed your mother, but I promised myself that I would keep the rest of my people safe at any cost.”
“And you’re the type to hold a grudge,” Piers said. “You blame the demons for keeping you away. You blame the humans for killing her.”
“And I blame the vampires for not keeping better control. If you had done your jobs the war would not have broken out.”
“So basically you hate everyone except the fae. I suppose that explains a lot.”
“But I’m half-human,” Roz said. “So where does that leave me?” Unless witches weren’t human. But her mother had certainly looked human. Acted human—for the most part.
“You’re my daughter,” he replied. “But you’re not half-human.”
“I’m not?”
“Come back with me, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Why not now?”
“This is not the place to talk of such things.”
“Come on, Walker, spit it out. What do you know?”
“Not here and not now.”
His tone was resolute. But much as Roz desperately wanted to discover what he could tell her, she wouldn’t go with him now. She had an idea things were going to go bad at any moment, and she wished to spend the intervening time with Piers. If they came through this alive, there would be time to get to know her father, to talk of her mother, to visit his homelands.
“When all this is over, then I’ll come.”
“You do know that with the Key, Andarta will be virtually indestructible?”
“Yeah, I know.”
After studying her for long moments, he reached up, lifted a chain from beneath his shirt, and pulled it over his head. A white gold band was strung on the chain. For a second he held it in front of his face, then he offered it to Roz. “This was the ring I found in the ashes. If you need me, hold it in your palm and wish. I will hear you.”
She took the chain from him, dangled it from one finger, watched as the light glinted off the curves. She remembered it on her mother’s finger, and bit her lip. Her mother had worn it every day and night, had never taken it off. She’d been wearing it the night she died.
“And will you come this time?” She hadn’t realized the bitterness she still harbored until the words slipped out.
Pain flashed across his face. “I will come.”
A cell phone went off behind her, and she jumped. Christian answered and spoke in low tones. When he looked back at them, his expression was grim.
“That was Carl. There’s been a demon attack at an army base in Surrey. Everyone slaughtered. It’s begun.”
“We must go and prepare for war. I will talk with my people, see if they are willing to fight beside you,” the Walker said. “If we survive this, we will renew our acquaintance. Until then…” He took the chain from her and lifted it over her neck. “Try not to think too badly of me.”
“You know,” Piers said, “I never thought I’d say it—but under that cold, mean, twisted exterior, there’s a soft, fluffy guy.”
“Piss off, Lamont.” He gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “I hold you responsible for her welfare.”
“Er, actually, I’m responsible for my own welfare,” Roz butted in.
Both men ignored her. “I’ll take care of her,” Piers replied.
“Good—now we must go.”
Fallon left Tara’s side and came to stand beside him. The mist gathered, and they were gone.
“Oh well, at least we know where you got that pigheaded streak,” Piers said as the fog faded.
“I have a pigheaded streak?”
“A mile wide, sweetheart. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
She bit back a smile—it was the first time he’d said he loved anything about her; even if it was her pigheaded streak, it made her feel all tingly.
Piers glanced around the rooftop, his gaze settling on Tara. “Hey, he left the cat—he must be mellowing.”
He was right; Tara still held the big gray cat in her arms. She put him down and the cat was gone, replaced by a young man with tousled blond hair and a big grin on his face.
Roz rubbed the ring that hung around her neck. Would the Walker come if she needed him? She hoped she would never have to test him, but she suspected in the time to come they were all going to be tested.
A few days ago, she’d had nothing. Now, she had a father, a lover, and the possibility of a whole new life, with people who understood her, were like her. Of course, on the down side, there was a good chance that the world as she knew it was going to end any moment.
Oh well, nothing was ever perfect.