Shadowdance(100)

Her blood curdled when she remembered what Jack Talent had endured.

A choked sound of defeat and dark humor tore from her breast. He’d die for her, but she would kill for him. For Jack Talent, a bloody bounder, rude, mercurial, amusing, loyal, and hers, whether she wanted him or not.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

Mary gave a start as the very man she’d been thinking of appeared in front of her, as if materializing from the ether.

“Jack.”

He stared down at her, his eyes as cold as the wind, and a shiver of trepidation ran down her spine. His words had finally sunk in. She’d been watching him. He knew. And he was not happy. None of that was responsible for the fear creeping over her skin. It was menace and hate frosting over his expression. She’d never seen hate in Jack’s eyes. Nor heard it flat and lifeless in his voice.

“Jack, I realize this—”

His backhanded blow smashed into her cheek, and she tumbled to the ground, her knees slamming into the rough pavers. Her mouth worked soundlessly, bitter, thick blood welling up over her tongue and between her teeth. Black spots danced before her gaze, her gloved hands trembling as she tried to rise. He’d hit her. He’d hit her.

“Jack.” It was a whisper between blood and despair.

Pain exploded through her as his booted foot connected with her stomach. Mary flew back. Her brain jostled within her skull when she landed. A sob broke from her. She needed to get up. He’d kill her. Yet she could hardly think past the unbearable hurt of his betrayal.

And then he was there, grabbing her roughly by the front of her bodice, his long fingers digging into the flesh of her breasts. He grinned then, a horrible version of his usual one. “Say good night, Miss Mary.”

He held something in his hand, a baton or club. She could not get a good look. White-hot lightning tore through her, and her body bucked in agony. She screamed just before everything went black.

Think of nothing. Think of nothing. It did not work. Jack’s body convulsed as he remembered the feel of Amaros’s arms wrapped tighter around him, pulling him closer. God, God. But Jack no longer believed in God. Or anything. Not when Amaros’s wet mouth had attached to his neck, sucking out great gulps of Jack’s blood. Not when he had smelled the rot of Amaros’s body and felt the bones along the man’s flank and arm.

Above him the grey rain fell over his cold skin to blend with the tears that leaked out of his burning eyes. He wanted to die.

But he would not. Because she needed to live. Mary. Just thinking her name sent a balm through him. Her gentle smile, that reluctant gesture that needed to be coaxed out to play. And when he saw it, it felt as though he’d received a rare gift. The way she never backed down, not from him, not from anything. Steel and silk, glowing eyes and fragrant hair. Mary. Even if she was never to be his, she was worth the sacrifice.

Amaros’s parting volley haunted him. “It was a pleasure, Jack. If ever you want another go, I’m more than happy to entertain you.”

Jack’s stomach pitched. Mary. Think of Mary. Amaros had what he wanted: Jack’s blood had healed him. It was over now. But even as the square faded from sight, Jack knew it was never going to be over.

The thought had barely registered when a scream crackled through the night. He halted, his skin icing over. He didn’t understand how—he’d never even heard her scream before—but he knew it was Mary.

Terror made him clumsy as he spun around and raced back. At the foot of the fountains Mary convulsed upon the ground, whips of lightning sparking over her as she flopped about. And the form of a man, holding her down.

“No!” Jack shouted.

The devil hovering over Mary lifted his head. Jack froze. The face that stared back at him was his own. A deep voice, smooth with a slight hitch to it, floated over to him. His own voice. Taunting. “Not very careful of you,” Amaros said, “letting her follow. And who do you suppose she believed killed her?”

A roar ripped out of Jack, tearing at his throat with its intensity. “You promised to leave her alone.”

“I lied.” Amaros, now healed and strong on Jack’s blood, took his true form and a pair of black feathered wings sprouted from his back. “Come and get me then.”

Jack flew over the pavers, his feet pounding hard as Amaros simply waited. White teeth gleamed in a ghoulish grin that had Jack leaping the last few feet. He slammed into the fiend with everything he had.

The impact reverberated through his bones and rattled his skull. Both men smashed into the base of the fountain, and then Jack smashed his fist into that grinning face. Amaros laughed, blood running between his teeth, and then he attacked.