Stone Goddess (Isabella Hush Series Book 3) Read online

  "So many people dead," I said. "Fayed. Is he—"

  "He's a vampire," Maddox said. "He'll be fine after a swallow of living blood." He eyed the space where Fayed was even then beginning to move.

  I felt the sofa give next to me and turned to see Doyle perched there. He caught my eye and immediately wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. I buried my face in his chest and he rubbed my back.

  I didn't realize how badly I needed to cry until then. I let go without shame, and his other arm came around me, hugging me tightly.

  "It's all right, child," he said. "Just let it go."

  I did. I wasn't sure how long I held onto him and sobbed into his chest, but with each passing moment, I felt lighter.

  Finally, I withdrew. My face felt puffy and my nose was running.

  "Hold it right there," Doyle said.

  I froze and caught his eye.

  "Don't even think about wiping that snot on me again," he said a smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I don't have another change of shirt."

  The blue of his eyes was spectacular. It winked at me like sunlight on the ocean's surface.

  "You're a piss poor excuse for a father," I said, teasing, but he wasn't and he had to know exactly how I felt.

  When his smile broke, it was like the sun had come out. "Who said I was a good father?"

  I let go his shirt finally, and leaned back against the sofa, running the cuff of my sleeve back and forth across my nose. I snuffed the rest of the fluid up into the back of my throat.

  I thought I heard Maddox gag.

  "Oh please," I said to him. "You just pretty much bathed in blood. A little bit of snot won't hurt."

  "I hate to break this up," Doyle said. He stood up and took Maddox's hand. Maddox cupped his elbow. His expression looked tight.

  "What?" I said. "What's going on?"

  Both Maddox and Doyle embraced. I thought I caught Maddox's whispered words: "I know, Dad," he said.

  "Know what?" I demanded. "Someone tell me what's going on."

  Doyle looked askance at me. "It's not safe in this world for both the stone and I," he said.

  "Not safe," I said. "I just watched the two of you mop up a platoon of nasty business plus a shape shifter."

  Doyle touched my chin with his thumb. "Not a platoon, young one, just a few soulless minions. Now that the stone is viable again, we'll need to reconvene the order. And that's my duty." He ran his hand down along his core, patting down his torso as though checking for his keys.

  "Some order," Maddox chuckled, but it was a tight, nervous laugh. "An order of one is no order."

  Doyle lifted a finger as though to correct him. "Two," he said. There are two of us. You're not alone. Not anymore."

  I thought I detected a look of sadness in Maddox's expression.

  "It's best you don't know where I'm going for now," Doyle said. "But I'll call you to service when it's time."

  Doyle leaned over to kiss me on the forehead. One small moth like touch with lips that were searingly hot.

  He withdrew and cuffed Maddox on the shoulder.

  "Now take this young mortal home. She looks exhausted."

  He turned on his heel and strode away without looking back, and as he went, he leaned over to touch each grey's body, crossing the forehead with a motion of benediction. Each time, he would touch his thumb to his lips, and the grey at his feet would crumble to ash without a single eruption of flame.

  When he met the door, the piles swept up into a vortex and followed him out in a tunnel of swirling dust.

  "Showoff," Maddox mumbled, but his voice was filled with pride.

  CHAPTER 29

  I was exhausted.

  I might have even fallen asleep. When I woke, it was to the sound of a low rumble reverberating through my chest.

  I peeled open my eyelids to discover I was in my own bed, tucked neatly into fresh sheets. My cat was sitting on top of me, her paws folded beneath her chest, eyelids half closed as she faced me.

  She wasn't much of a purring type of cat, nor did she usually sleep on top of me.

  "You must've missed me," I said.

  I reached out to scratch her behind the ears. Of course, her eyes flew open at the movement, and she jumped off the bed, streaking toward the half open bedroom door.

  "Should've known better," I mumbled to myself and lifted the blankets to peer beneath.

  I was in fresh pajamas. I smelled of soap and sleep.

  There was no way I stumbled home, took a shower, and climbed into bed without knowing or remembering.

  This was Maddox's doing.

  "Sonofabitch," I said. I had a discomforting image of him propping me up in the tub, all comatose and drooling.

  "You met my father," said a voice from the doorway. "He wouldn't be happy with that assessment."

  Maddox stood there, hands on his hips, feet crossed at the ankle as he leaned on the jamb.

  "He's not the sort to bed down with a bitch," he said then shrugged as though he'd just thought of something he hadn't before. "Or maybe he was."

  I tested the idea of movement by shrugging my shoulders. I was sore, but the pain in my ribs had decreased quite a bit.

  He must have noticed because he came toward me.

  "Nothing's broken," he said. "I did a quick run down. You'll be up and terrorizing the city in a few days."

  I eased myself up, wavering a bit as I found my balance with my palms behind me. He was right; my shoulder hurt far less than it did before, and I could breathe without wincing.

  "A rundown," I said, testing the word. I raked my bottom lip in with my teeth as a picture of him running his hands down my body replaced the one of me drooling in the tub.

  "Like, while I was naked or before?"

  He held his hands up in protest.

  "Please," he said. "I'm a monk. It's as good as going to the doctor."

  His tone was earnest but the way he kept staring at my chest indicated he was remembering every savory detail. The thought of it made something heat up in my belly.

  "Indeed," I said, not wanting to give him any reason to press the point.

  I threw my legs out from beneath the blankets. There was a nice chill in the room that whispered over my skin and made me wiggle my toes in reflex.

  "And exactly how did you get me in and out of the tub without me waking up?" I asked him.

  He snorted. "The way you were snoring?" he said. "I don't think Lucifer himself could've woke you."

  "Not funny," I said.

  "It wasn't meant to be."

  He strode into the room, closing the distance between us. I noticed he was wiping his hands on a towel.

  "I gave you the military sponge bath," he said. "In some circles, otherwise known as a whore's bath."

  I groaned in embarrassment. While the thought of having him rub soap over my body might be something steamy in a fantasy as I lay in bed at night, what he was suggesting came nowhere near an ideal fantasy.

  "Please tell me you just washed my arms and legs."

  He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. "I could tell you that, if you really want me to."

  I waved my hand at him, eager to be done with the discussion and change the subject.

  "Never mind," I said. "I don't think I want to know."

  My feet touched down on the familiar floor and I sighed with all the pleasure of being home. I took a step, aiming for my dresser and felt immediately dizzy.

  He was across the floor in seconds and holding me against his chest, with one arm slung over my shoulders.

  I shrugged him off.

  "Trying to cop a feel?" I said. "God. You can just never trust a frustrated male virgin," I said. "Especially one who's been kicking around for a century."

  "Centuries," he corrected. "And if you thought a few centuries would make me as desperate as a three year old goat, you're wrong. I passed my puberty the way most teen aged boys do, and I'm none the worse for wear. In fact, all that time practicing being celibate har
dens the resolve."

  "Sure. Practicing," I said with a snort. "That's what they call it in your world?"

  He scowled at me but sent another lingering glance at my chest. I put my hand over my shirt and realized I wasn't wearing a bra. I felt my face flame all the way down to my collarbone as I realized the full truth of what he'd been saying.

  "You completely undressed me."

  He shrugged. "You were filthy all over. I threw the clothes in the trash."

  "I could have washed those," I said.

  One russet eyebrow lifted. "I think not. There were cooties on them."

  "They were my favorite jeans."

  "Torn and scorched."

  I lifted my eyebrows inelegantly.

  "And my panties?" I said, realizing as I stood that I chafed in my pajama pants.

  "Those were particularly awful," he said. "An abomination meant to ward off men of all races. And a relief for a frustrated male virgin." He lifted a russet eyebrow playfully.

  I squared my shoulders as I imagined the big cotton bloomers I'd pulled on that morning.

  "Well," I said, thinking about the granny style underwear I'd had on. "I wasn't planning on seducing anyone."

  "You went to a sex party."

  I blinked. "Your point?"

  He shook his head, mumbling something about being grateful he was a monk and put his fingers to his chest as though I'd offended him.

  "I was the very picture of gentlemanly restraint," he said. "You might thank me."

  He grabbed my robe from the side of the door and threw it at me.

  "I'm not sure I like the idea of you looking at me nude when I can't defend myself."

  "No worries, Kitten," he drawled. "I closed my eyes at the dirtiest parts. The trouble was, there were a lot of dirty parts. I might have had to peek now and then to make sure I got you all clean."

  He waved me toward him as he retreated to the kitchen.

  "Come on," he said. "The only thing worse than your snoring is the sound of your stomach growling."

  I followed him meekly, enjoying the solid feel of bare feet on familiar ground. I entered the kitchen to the fragrance of curry and ginger.

  "Butter chicken?" I guessed, inhaling the aromatic perfume. It swaddled me in ways that made me feel warm from head to toe. My stomach roared its impatience.

  "How long have I been asleep?"

  He eyed me.

  "Two days. Well," he said, counting on his fingers. "About forty seven hours, actually."

  I sniffed at the air to inhale the fragrance onto my palate.

  "So you cooked?" I said. Apparently, the non-man was full of surprises.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at me.

  "Not an easy task in a house full of snacking crackers and squeeze cheese."

  Then he twisted to reach behind his shoulder. He pulled open the cupboard with a flourish and I gasped. It was full of food. Real food. There was pasta and canned goods and bread.

  I caught sight of a bag of nacho chips, nestled toward the back—a holdover from a week earlier.

  "Gimme," I said as I took an involuntary step toward him.

  He slapped my hands away from the shelf.

  "Not until you've eaten properly. I noticed you're far too skinny." He poked me in the belly, almost as though to prove he was lying.

  "Scottie said I was fat," I said.

  And then the wash of what I'd done to Scottie flooded over me. I lost the strength in my legs and had to find the nearest chair. I sank onto the armrest.

  "He's gone," Maddox said.

  "I know."

  "Not the way you mean," he said carefully. "I removed his body."

  My head snapped up at the words.

  "I couldn't leave him lying there," he explained. "So I took care of it. Fayed helped."

  "So that's why you were there."

  "We were there because Doyle told us where you were. He sent me to your hotel room after...well, after I tucked you in."

  "If that's the case, then why didn't he just trace it to Scottie and retrieve it while it was in his safe? Why didn't you know Doyle was here? Why did we have to hunt him down?"

  "His mark is a bit different, you see. You saw how it reacts to my skin, but it does other things too. Doyle says his mark is more attuned to all his senses, because they are bonded. What it sees, he sees. What it smells, he smells. Mine is more like scent. You touched it, remember? I could smell its magic on you. Kind of like a bloodhound.

  "I couldn't tell if you still had it or if it was just somewhere in the city. I just knew it was in the realm somewhere and that it had been in your apartment."

  "Sounds creepy if you ask me," I said. "You're telling me that thing can see? Wouldn't it have been easier if you had magicked it so it could talk too?"

  He had the grace to laugh.

  "Our marks aren't exactly like science, you know. But I imagine its sentience comes from the demon goddess trapped inside."

  I plucked my fork from the table and tapped it against a slice of coated chicken.

  "I know," I said. ""Magic doesn't work that way, but it would be hell of a lot more convenient if it did."

  "Did you just make a pun there?" he said, scooping up a saucy bit of chicken with a hunk of Naan bread.

  I grinned, feeling the smear of greasy curry coating my teeth.

  "Well I'm glad it's over."

  "You did well," he said, passing me a slice of warm Naan. "I'm impressed, actually. You handled it all like a pro."

  "I am a pro," I said. "At least, I used to be." I frowned at the implication of the words. "I'm not sure what I am now. Just a regular gal, I guess."

  While Scottie was gone and I was free of his threat, I wasn't exactly ready to take up my old habits. If anything, the loss of the kingpin would send the organization into a tailspin and I wasn't sure if the new boss would be indulgent of a freelance thief in its territory. I was sure that Scottie had moved most of his operation to the metro and had been in the midst of starting up a faction here. I imagined the new boss would expand and continue.

  I wasn't even sure if they would want retribution.

  I couldn't just take that chance.

  Maddox must have noticed the way I was moving the chicken around the plate and barely tasting it. He took my fork and placed it neatly beside my glass of lemon water.

  "If you're worried about him finding you, don't be. I doubt he'll attack again so quickly. He'll want to regroup. Build up his army again."

  I raised my eyes to his across the table.

  "Army?" I said. "They're pretty well organized, but I wouldn't call them an army."

  He leaned back, obviously just realizing I wasn't thinking about the same concern as him.

  "I was talking about Absalom."

  "Absalom?" I said, confused. "He's gone. The stone is gone. Doyle is gone. What do I have to worry about him for?"

  He laid his hand on mine across the table and I couldn't help looking at the way they fit together. His palm was warm and dry, calloused in places. I got lost in thoughts of how they'd feel on my arm, my back. Count on me to find all the wrong men.

  I only realized he was still talking when his hand tightened on mine.

  "What?" I said.

  "I said: you are no longer just a mortal. You are a potential conduit, and if he ever tracks Doyle down, he'll want to know where you are. He won't just forget you. He'll watch you. He'll wait. And when he thinks the time is right, he'll strike."

  "Great," I said, throwing down my piece of Naan. "Now I've got two targets on my back." I crossed my arms over my chest, cupping my elbows.

  "Maybe," he said. "But now at least you won't be alone."

  I quirked my eyebrow at him. "What's that, now? You think my cat is going to scratch their eyes out?" I watched her curling around on the sideboard, glaring at Maddox. "The only person she seems to hate is you."

  He dipped a piece of bread into the sauce and touched it to my lips, poking at the corner u
ntil I opened up. I chewed but resisted the urge to close my eyes in raptured delight. He was a really good cook but I wasn't ready to feed his ego.

  "She'll warm up to me," he said. "Most females do. It's a curse, actually." He stuffed the edge in. "But she'll have plenty of time to get used to me."

  "You're planning on abducting her? I wouldn't advise it. She's pretty particular about the state of her house." I waved the fork to indicate the socks she'd pulled from my drawers and shredded over the living room while I'd been out.

  He sent the balls of fabric a dirty look. "No," he said. "Not exactly."

  "Then what, exactly, are you saying?"

  He dipped his finger into the sauce and tapped me on the nose with it.

  "I'm saying I'm your protection. Call me your personal guardian."

  I pushed away from the table, scrubbing my nose with the back of my sleeve. When I thought I could articulate exactly what bothered me about that sentence, I realized I was wringing my hands as I sat there. I pulled them down against my hips and held them their while I gave him a careful eye.

  "I haven't had a guardian since I left foster care," I said, noting that while my voice was perfectly level, my left hand had begun trembling. "I'm not interested in one now."

  I waited for that to sink in and then I picked up my plate, full of sauce and chicken and the delightful aroma of spices, and I carried it to the sink. I dropped the plate on the counter.

  I ran through the years I'd spent with Scottie, waiting for the hammer to drop, the years afterward when I expected someone to be recording my every movement. When there was no one there, relief never rested my mind because there was always the next moment, the next corner, the next day.

  I was done with all that.

  The rest of my life would be on my terms. Whatever that meant, I was going to face it. Starting with the Kindred right behind me.

  I spun on my heel, laying my palms out beside me on the counter, aware I was subconsciously making myself bigger. So maybe I had a way to go, but dammit, the buck stopped here.

  "I'm a big girl. I refuse to be watched."

  "You do naughty things you don't want folks to see?" he said. "Because I'm into that."