Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

The time to hide what she was had passed.

From now on, people could take her as she was and if they didn’t like it they could—her thoughts ground to a halt. The fact was, not many people did seem to like her, except Christian, and he might very well be gone forever. She forced herself to finish the thought—they could kill her.

“So, who is this guy who wants to kill me? This Walker?”

Piers glanced down at her in surprise. “He’s your uncle. Well great-uncle I suppose. His brother is your grandfather.”

“And he wants to kill me?”

“He will do as soon as you take that talisman off, but don’t take it personally. He wants to kill a lot of people. Me for one.”

Tara glanced at him, and he grinned.

“Why does he want to kill you?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m just popular, I guess. Here we are.”

The elevator door opened and Tara stared out into the dark night. The sky was clear, the air cold. She stepped out after Piers. They stood on top of the tallest building in the area. All around them lay the sprawl of London, the Thames winding its way through the heart of the city, the London Eye glowing red across the water, but up here, it was as if they were alone, cut off from the rest of the world.

Everyone watched her. It was time. She remembered removing the talisman with Christian, how he had distracted her with his kisses. Tears stung her eyes, but thoughts of Christian also filled her with urgency. Even now, he could be fighting with Asmodai. Fighting with her father. Would her father sense her, and would it be enough to stop him, or maybe at least divert him? Would he come for her? According to Jamie, he had loved her mother. Would he feel something for her because of that?

Enough to give her back Christian, the man she loved.

She put her hand to her throat, lifted the necklace, and slipped it over her head. She opened up the locket and took the strand of hair from under the clip. It was the only part of her mother that remained, and she didn’t want it destroyed. Then she dropped the locket to the ground at Piers’s feet.

“Finish it,” she said.

He glanced at her in surprise. “I can see it now. How amazing—you’re a demon and the fae is there as well.” He looked from her to the talisman at his feet. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once you do, there’s no going back. What you are will be out in the open.”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Destroy it.”

Piers raised his foot and ground his heel on the crystal. She heard the crunch as the thing disintegrated. “Is that enough?” she asked Jonas. “Is the spell broken?”

“It’s more than enough.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now we wait and see who finds you first.”

…

Falling back under the storm of savage blows, Christian accepted it was only a matter of time. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, blinding him, and he wiped it clear with the back of his hand. The attack was relentless now, soon it would be over, but something inside him refused to give in. He rallied, cursing and slashing with his blade, standing his ground.

Asmodai threw back his head and laughed.

“You’ve been a good opponent, but you can’t beat me.”

“Fuck off,” Christian snarled and raised his blade.

Asmodai came for him. The crimson sword beat him down until he stood exhausted, breathing hard. Asmodai raised his sword for what Christian knew would be the final blow. He held it high above his head but at the last moment, he stumbled and fell to his knees in front of Christian.

Christian stepped back. He raised his own sword and was about to bring it slamming down when something stopped him.

Triumph gleamed in the demon’s eyes.

“My daughter is alive,” he said, and his voice rang with wonder. “She has destroyed the spell. She is no longer hidden from me.”

Christian frowned. He was getting a bad feeling about this. He watched warily as Asmodai rose to his feet.

“Put down your sword, Christian Roth. I have no time to kill you now. My daughter might need me.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yes. Mine and Lillian’s.”

Christian’s sword clattered to the floor. He stared at Asmodai, rank horror churning in his belly. Shock washed over him, threatening to drown him in a tidal wave of disbelief. He searched Asmodai’s face, hunting for any small hint of similarity, but there was nothing of Tara in him. “It’s not possible.”

Regarding him curiously, Asmodai put down his sword. “What, exactly, do you find impossible?”

Christian laughed, but the sound was void of humor, harsh in his ears. Why had it never occurred to him? Then again, why should it? He was in love with the daughter of his worst enemy. The daughter of the demon who was about to finish him off.

“Shit,” he said. How would Tara feel? Her own father had, if not murdered her best friend, at least arranged and condoned that murder. And now her father would be responsible for killing the man she loved. He laughed again and Asmodai’s eyes narrowed.