Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [46]
“Immortality.”
Adam paused. “They want immortality?”
“Semi-immortality. Long life. Eternal youth. Invulnerability.”
“Seriously?” I said. “Immortality questers freed Leah and want me? Besides being really unoriginal, that doesn’t make any sense. I have demon and spellcaster blood. No immortality connection there.”
“Bigger. Think bigger.”
“Than immortality? It doesn’t get bigger than that.”
A hiss of frustration. “Immortality only part. Bigger plan. Need—”
The door swung open. An older nurse walked in, trilling, “We aren’t supposed to shut that door, people. We would hate to have Mrs. Schmidt’s alarms go off and we don’t hear them.”
Adam started to apologize, but she swept past him, syringe in hand.
“Out, out, out. Our lady needs tending.”
“No,” Schmidt whispered. “Please, no.”
I tensed. Adam glanced at me. The nurse had to have heard him, but she just kept humming under her breath.
“Please,” Schmidt said. “I’m sorry. Please—”
She hummed louder, drowning him out. When she reached for the intravenous cord and lifted the syringe, Adam lunged and grabbed her arm. The nurse wheeled and grabbed Adam around the neck before he could blink. He tried to throw her off, but she yanked him back against her, forearm jammed under his throat, holding him as if he was a struggling toddler, and no more dangerous. He grabbed her arm with both hands. Skin sizzled and popped. But she didn’t let go.
I raced forward.
“Uh-uh,” she said, pointing the needle at Adam’s throat. “Touch me, and he dies. Cast a spell and he dies.” She smiled at me and her eyes flashed orange. “Give me any excuse, child, and he dies.”
“Demon,” I said.
“You think?” Adam said, wheezing.
“Do you know who he is?” I asked the demon. “Who his father is?”
“I have no love for Asmondai,” the demon said. “Nor does my master. In fact, should my hand slip . . .” She moved the needle against Adam’s neck. “My master would reward me most handsomely. When mortals interfere with demons, accidents do happen.”
“Only it wouldn’t be an accident,” I said, gaze glued to that syringe. “I’d know it wasn’t. I’d make sure Asmondai knew, too.”
A desperate, empty threat and I expected the demon to laugh. But her smile froze.
“Do you know who I am?” I said, pulling myself up straight. “Sav—”
“Savannah Levine. Daughter of Eve.”
“And granddaughter of lord demon Balaam.”
It should have meant nothing. Demons took little interest in their children, none in their grandchildren. But she let out a low hiss, drew back the syringe, and looked away. No, didn’t just look away. Dropped her gaze from mine.
When she spoke, her voice was almost a whine. “He was warned. This necromancer, he was warned. Speak of what he knew and his wife would not wake.” She snarled at Maura Schmidt’s body. “You were warned.”
“I’m sorry,” Schmidt whispered, words tumbling out. “A mistake. A moment of weakness. I’ll tell them—”
“No more.” The demon released her grip on Adam and advanced on Schmidt. “Speak another word and she dies. If not by my hand, then by another. We warned you.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll—”
“Not another word!” the demon boomed.
Adam leapt forward and knocked her legs out from under her. As she crashed to the floor, I rushed in. Adam pinned her easily. Too easily. When I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, her eyes were closed, face slack. The demon had fled.
We tried to coax Schmidt back, but not for long. He was gone and there was an unconscious nurse on the floor, with third-degree burns on her arm. We got out of there as fast as we could.
We’d checked out of the hotel before we left, so I wasn’t surprised when we got into the car and Adam said, “See how fast you can get us a flight to Miami. If we have time to grab lunch, we passed a place on the way over. Otherwise, we’ll eat at the airport.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t take out my phone either.
“Savannah . . .”
“Shouldn’t we investigate this?”
“Investigate what? Schmidt didn’t give us anything . . . except confirmation that you’ve got something much worse than a witch-hunter on your tail. Which is all the more reason to