“You try that, Sweetpea. You go ahead and try.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of worry in his voice. I was no threat to him, and we both knew it. Even so, he took his hands off my sister’s body.
Why?
I watched through narrowed, wary eyes, wondering what was to come. Why he had given in so easily?
His actions gave me no clue. Instead, he eased back against the headboard and breathed in deep. “Haven’t been inside a girl in at least a thousand years,” he said. Then he chuckled. “Well, ’course we both know I’ve been inside a girl. But this—this here’s different. This way, I’m touching her everywhere.”
I heard a low, feral growl, then realized it was coming from my throat. Deacon’s arms around my waist tightened, making sure I didn’t do something stupid.
“Aw, see, now you’re going to hurt my feelings,” Lucas said. “Make me feel unwelcome.”
“What do you want?” Deacon asked.
Rose’s head lifted, slowly and deliberately, until her eyes—with Lucas behind them—faced Deacon dead on. “I don’t converse with traitors,” he said. Then he smiled, and the expression was all Rose. “I find that kind of behavior unbecoming,” he said, but this time he used my sister’s voice.
Hot tears trickled down my cheeks, and, behind me, I felt Deacon’s body stiffen with rage. I reached up and held fast to his arms around me. It was my turn to hold him in place.
“Goddammit,” I hissed, “answer the question. What do you want?”
“What do you think I want?”
I was afraid to answer, fearful that he wanted Rose. That he wanted to crush the life from her. That he wanted her fully, body and soul, and he wanted to thumb his nose at the fact that I’d failed her on so many different levels.
“I said, what do you think I want?” he snarled.
I squeezed my eyes closed, releasing more tears, but refusing to put voice to my biggest fear. “I don’t know. How the hell can I know what a monster like you is thinking?”
“I want the key, you ignorant bitch. The key, the key, the fucking key.” His voice took on a manic, singsong edge.
“Yeah? Well, join the club.”
“Not the key you seek. I seek the Oris Clef—the key to open the gates—all the gates. The masses await, and on the night of convergence, Kokbiel will rise above all others, allowing entry only to those who swear fealty to his grace.”
Since I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, I only gaped. Deacon, however, was right there with the program.
“All this time, and you still serve Kokbiel?”
“I am his most loyal servant. Wherever I have wandered, it has always been Kokbiel that I have served.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Deacon. “And you, Deacon Camphire, whom do you serve?”
“I serve no master.”
“Oh, but you have,” Johnson retorted, making Rose’s sweet voice hard and harsh. “Have you told her? Have you told the little girl whom you’ve served? What you’ve done?”
I jerked out of Deacon’s arms and turned, needing to see his face, but it gave me no clue.
Johnson laughed. “The powerful Camphire, the—”
Without warning, Deacon lunged, knocking Rose back, his knife at her throat, his knee hard on her chest.
“Deacon!” I sprang forward, my own blade drawn, and pressed the tip firmly against Deacon’s temple. “Don’t you even think about it.”
“I know about you,” Johnson hissed. “I know everything. Every stinking thing.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Deacon said, his voice icy calm.
“She doesn’t know,” Johnson said with a low laugh. “She doesn’t have a clue what you’ve done.”
I could see Deacon’s muscles tighten. “Deacon . . .” “Lily wants this body alive,” he said, ignoring my blade. Ignoring me. His sole focus on the body beneath him. “I don’t. I suggest you keep that in mind before you provoke me again.”
Rose’s eyes closed, and Johnson barked out a laugh. “What an impasse. What a pretty predicament. She really doesn’t know, does she? She doesn’t know what you are. What you’ve done. What you’re capable of.” Rose’s mouth pursed into a little moue. “Does the widdle boy just want to impress the pwetty girlie? Or have you got another agenda to be with the bitch?” he asked, ending with a harsh accusation. “One more suited to your nature.”
Deacon’s lip curled, and his arms flexed.
“Don’t fucking move,” I said, fearing he’d press down with the blade. And in case he didn’t get the message, I thrust forward just hard enough to draw a drop of blood. It trickled down in front of his ear, the scent of it enticing, making me edgy and ready for a fight. “Pull back, Deacon. Pull back right now.”