It was the best he was going to get. He forced his muscles to unlock and reluctantly stepped away. Near the entrance, he gazed blankly at the wall. He pretended interest in the designs, counting to twenty before blatantly turning to watch her.
With her eyes closed, Caly looked like an angel, and he had to remind himself that she was not invincible. Someone wanted her dead, and he'd done a piss-poor job of protecting her so far.
The thought set his shoulders back, and he twisted to face the opening. He tensed as the sun fought to lighten the sky.
When he didn't feel his skin tighten, the slow hardening of his body, he relaxed. The building must be on holy ground. It was the only thing that would delay his shift. As long as he stayed in the building, he'd remain mobile.
They needed a plan, a form of attack. A way he could keep her stubborn hide safe. He turned and studied Caly, wondering if there was anything he could do or say that would convince her to allow him to protect her. Dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks. Normally so strong and animated, seeing her unmoving made his heart skip a beat. She'd lost weight since they'd met.
Kneeling, he dug in his pack until he uncovered the food. He unwrapped one sandwich and walked toward her. "Eat." He resisted the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear and nudged her instead, waiting ‘til she took the dark, circular bread with snippets of quail. She didn't look happy, but he didn't care as long as she did as told.
In silence, he searched the rest of the room to give her some privacy. Caly's gaze landed on his back like a brand, and he welcomed any kind of attention, no matter how pathetic it made him.
The ruins had three intact walls. The partially crumbled fourth wall had allowed them entrance. Three steps led up to a solid altar, worn down by time and sand from the brutal wind. After twenty minutes, he'd inspected every seam and found nothing useful. No clue as to who lived here or who had built the structure.
The blocks were enormous, an engineering feat that had to rival the ancient Egyptian pyramids, yet there was no sign that humans had been here for years. A deep foreboding built like a fire in his gut. "Caly, do you recognize this structure?"
When she didn't respond, Ruman turned. Caly stood in the middle of the room. She faced the altar, her palms flat on the surface. The solid top had split, yawning open like a giant maw.
"Booby-trap!" But it was too late.
So intent on what was before her, Caly didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice. She reached down inside the opening. Even as he raced toward her, he knew it was too late.
Much too late for either of them. "Caly!"
Her body snapped taut, her muscles convulsed and she flew backwards as if struck. Ruman braced himself, but she slammed him with enough force they both sailed three feet before landing.
The impact stunned him, knocking the breath from his body. The sand and stone tore flesh from his back as his body scraped the floor's surface.
Struggling for air, Ruman forced his body to roll over and scrambled toward Caly. Her back arched as another wave swept through her, her body fighting for her life. He gathered her in his arms, holding her still so she wouldn't hurt herself.
The weapons created to save mankind were not designed to be wielded by humans. Those who were chosen didn't have a choice in the matter once they touched the metal. The blade converted the wielder, changing them to be able to withstand the side effects. The downside was that if rejected, the human never woke.
He cursed his own stupidity. She'd told him about the dagger. He knew to watch for it, and had allowed it to happen anyway. Clasped tightly in her right hand was the pommel of a knife. The blade itself rested tight against the skin of her arm, streaking the exposed area an angry red and dark, bruising blue.
Infection.
Azazel's promise had come true.
Caly got her blade. Hopefully, she'd live long enough to wield the damn thing.
Chapter Nineteen
The last thing Caly remembered was the searing pain that ripped through her body when she touched the knife, tearing her apart from the inside out. Molten lava burned through her veins. A tidal wave of heat worked its way up her hand and spread outward.
It scalded her guts like she'd guzzled acid. She tried to move, escape the pain, but it was impossible. Ruman shouted her name. The split-second distraction broke her concentration. Power swelled and propelled her backwards as if a giant fist had flattened her.
Pain emanated from the metal she held, but she refused to release it.
The dagger was hers. If she let go, it'd be lost.
Caly gasped for breath, jerking upright. Heart pounding almost out of her chest, she quickly scanned her surroundings.
Then blinked in surprise as she recognized her own bedroom.
Bracing for the worst, she glanced down. The pommel of the knife rested securely in her palm. She opened her fingers, and they peeled away as if reluctant.
The knife from her dreams, the one he had promised her. She tested the balance, surprised the way the blade felt like it had been made for her.
Relief made her giddy, and she traced a finger along the ancient words. The blade shone brightly in the dim room as if illuminated from within, the cold light licking at her fingers in the almost prickly way of a cat's tongue. Although she hadn't recognized the design earlier, she easily translated the word. "Carnwennan."
"Caly?" Ruman's raspy voice emerged from the inky blackness, and her lungs forget how to function for a minute at the sound of her name.
She jerked her head up, relaxing when she picked out his reassuring shape in the shadows. The chair creaked as he straightened, and her heart leapt pathetically at seeing him again. Memories of the kiss clouded her mind, her body shivering as she relived the feel of his touch.
"You brought me home." She felt exposed at being so vulnerable. He knew everything about her, all her ugly secrets lay exposed and he still saved her life. It left her floundering, uncertain where they went from here, especially since he remained across the room from her.
When she looked at him, hoping to gauge his reaction to what happened between them, it was to find the shadows clinging to him as if hiding him from her. The distance between them grew frosty at his continual silence. When he didn't try to touch her, a burst of fear hiccupped in her chest.
Ruman stood without a word, took a step toward her, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear what he had to say. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor, but it was his clenched fists that drew her gaze, the rigid way he held his body.
Caly scooted back on the bed, completely at a loss at what to expect. His clothes were wrinkled, his face pale in the darkness. There was no warmth in his expression at all, his eyes as hard as agate as he surveyed her form. It was like all of the intimate moments between them never happened. Looking at the ghost of the man she'd touched and kissed not so long ago made the back of her throat ache in loss.
As he reached the bed, a light blue color flared from the steel, highlighting the design crafted on the blade, startling her so badly she nearly dropped the knife. "What is it?"
"It senses demons. Blue for demons, red for danger." His words were clipped, his tone carefully neutral, but at least he was talking to her.
"You mean like that hobbit movie?"
He grunted, clearly not pleased with her fascination. "What movie?"
"Never mind." He felt so human to her at times that she forgot movie references would be alien to him. She rubbed her arms, the distance he put between them a physical chill that put a nip in the air.
When she glanced up again, it was to see his back disappearing out the door. Disheartened by his lack of response to her, she stared unblinkingly down at the blade without really seeing anything. What did she expect? That the kiss had changed things between them?
To avoid moping, Caly threw back the covers, a little surprised to find herself dressed in just her bra and panties. She shucked on the first pair of pants she snatched from the dresser then slipped her standard t-shirt over her head, her attention drawn to the mysterious piece of paper on the floor.
Curiosity got the best of her. Pulling the shirt down, she went to investigate.
The small square was folded in half. She picked it up, noticing the crease worn to the point of falling apart. She smoothed open the glossy image and stopped in shock to see herself staring back at her. The picture she'd tossed in the fireplace.
The floor outside her room creaked.
Caly hurriedly closed the picture and tucked it into the side cushion of the chair. For some reason it was important that he didn't know she'd found it. It felt too much like looking into a stranger's underwear drawer, but the thin ice that had crept over the edges of her heart warmed. He still cared.
The door opened without a knock. She whirled, crouched with the dagger poised to strike.
"Whoa, it's just me." Jarred held up one hand, the other held his medical bag. He stopped with one foot in the room.
"Sorry." A little disconcerted at his observation, Caly turned toward the dresser and rummaged inside in search of a sheath to avoid his too probing stare. "What do you want?"