Night of the Tiger

Chapter Thirteen

Aimee didn’t know how he’d react to her unexpected bombshell. Roric’s eyes were wild, his muscular body coiled for action.

“No. It couldn’t be Mordecai.”

She stared at him in disbelief. Was he calling her a liar or was he just in denial? “Tall guy, black hair, black eyes.” And because he looked so skeptical, she couldn’t resist tossing in, “Handsome too.”

Roric dropped his hands from her body and she immediately felt the cold. But it was more than just skin deep. This chill went all the way to her soul. He honestly didn’t believe her.

“I think you saw a demon who disguised himself as Mordecai. They’re clever like that.”

She’d thought about that, but she honestly didn’t think it was a demon. The flickers of emotion she’d glimpsed in his eyes weren’t something a demon would show. At least not any demons she’d met so far. Not that she’d met many. There was only Sandra, unless you counted the crew at the carnival. But still, she didn’t think they’d be wasting time on emotions like doubt or regret, both of which she thought she’d glimpsed in his eyes.

She shook her head. “He told me the other two, Phoenix and Stavros, were dead and so were the women who freed them.” Fear threatened to overwhelm her, but she ruthlessly shoved it back down. She would not give in to it. “The woman who freed him is dead too. He killed her himself before he joined Hades. Not exactly a good track record for you guys, is it?”

Aimee knew it was wrong to attack Roric’s fighting skills and his honor, but she wasn’t feeling real generous at the moment. Today had been a bitch so far and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

She automatically checked her watch, surprised to find the morning gone. Well, a lot had happened since she’d awakened to find a man in her bed a few hours ago. Technically, it was past lunchtime, not that she felt like eating anything.

She glanced back at Roric but he hadn’t moved. Watching him was like watching a statue. The slight rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he was actually alive. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t blink. Finally she saw a slight tic beneath his left eye. “I will protect you.”

“Yeah, right.” Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she ambled to the top of the stairs that led to the yard. There was a small grassy area that contained a woodpile and a shed. Beyond that, the forest held sway as towering pines, majestic oaks and colorful maple trees surrounded her home.

It made her sad to think that this might be the last day she’d spend here. She didn’t want to think what would happen to her home after she was gone. There was no family to inherit it. The house and land would be sold and the money donated to various charities once the government took their share. It depressed her to realize her life had had such a small impact on the world.

There would be no one to mourn, no one to care. Sure, the townspeople would talk. This would be just another chapter in the sorry life of poor Aimee Horner. Aimee wasn’t certain there would be a body for them to bury or if she’d just disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe her story would end up on one of those sensational televisions shows. Whatever Happened to Aimee Horner? Or maybe The Mysterious Disappearance of Aimee Horner? Something suitably dramatic.

She shook off her morose thoughts and picked up the conversation as though it had never stopped. “You’d throw me to the wolves, or demons in this case, if you thought it would rescue your Lady or your fellow warriors. Don’t deny it.” She turned to face him once again, wanting to see his reaction. Hoping she was wrong.

Roric raked his fingers through his hair, the white stripes gleaming in the morning sun. “What do you want from me?”

Again, his tone was low and restrained. She wanted to break his control, penetrate the barrier that seemed to surround him most of the time. Occasionally he slipped its yoke, usually during moments of intense physical need.

“I want the truth!” she shouted, her anger bubbling over. “I want you to be honest with yourself and with me. If you thought it would free the goddess you serve, you’d hand me over to Hades yourself.”

This entire situation was a mess. If she helped him, she’d mostly likely end up dead or worse. If she didn’t help him—assuming she had a choice—she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. If he kept her alive, he might die himself, or he might have to forfeit his own life or the lives of his friends. If he didn’t keep her alive, she knew he’d feel as though he’d failed her and his honor. They were both damned if they did and damned if they didn’t—literally.

Frustration poured off him in waves. He didn’t fidget, didn’t flinch. His lips were pursed tight together, as if to keep from yelling at her.

“Wouldn’t you?” She got right in his face. There was no backing away from this. She needed to know where she stood going in.

“Yes!” he shouted. “No!” He shook his head like a wild beast, hair flying around his face. “I don’t know.” He met her gaze, and she could see the torture and pain that lived within him. The muscles of his jawbone flexed as he ground his teeth together. His blue eyes darkened as he watched her.

Aimee was coming to know him so well she could almost read his thoughts. Roric wanted to save them all, and that just wasn’t possible.

“I understand.” And the strange part was that she did understand. The man had served the goddess since the beginning of time. She’d met him yesterday. There really was no choice for him.

“I have to do this, Aimee.”

She closed her eyes and savored the sound of her name on his lips. Just the fact that he was torn at all told her that she meant something to him. Besides, his loyalty to his friends meant he was capable of being loyal. How could she not admire that when there was so little loyalty left in the world?

Against all reason, against all common sense, she had deep feelings for Roric. Whether it was love or not, she wasn’t quite certain. Who could be sure at a moment like this? Their time together had been filled with incredible happenings and emotional ups and downs. And it was only the beginning.

But it was also the end.

Roric would escape from Hades’ clutches and live to try to free his fellow warriors and the Lady or he would die trying. For him there truly was no other choice. His honor demanded it.

And there was no choice for her either. She would help him, no matter the cost to herself.

Taking a deep breath, she held out her hand. Roric reached out, slowly closing the gap between them. His large fingers wrapped around her smaller ones, practically swallowing her hand in his. “What did the scroll say?”

“Aimee.” He squeezed her fingers. “It wasn’t Mordecai.”

She knew he wouldn’t believe her. Maybe he couldn’t believe her. If one of his fellow warriors could give in to Hades, what was stopping Roric from doing the same? To believe was to doubt himself and his conviction. And that was no way to begin a fight with the Lord of the Underworld.

Still, she had to be truthful with him. It would also do him no good to bury his head in the sand and possibly get blindsided at a crucial moment. “All I know is he told me his name was Mordecai. He didn’t seem concerned that he’d betrayed the rest of you, tainted his honor. I think in some ways he respects you. Deep down, he knows you’ll die rather than go over to the dark side.”

Roric grunted, but said nothing. She could sense the restlessness in him.

“I think that’s also the reason you couldn’t sense any lingering taint of evil in the bedroom. He spent thousands of years being honorable, and I don’t think he’s quite rotten to the core yet. Although, now that he’s started down that slippery slope, there’s no going back. Hades won’t let him walk away from his agreement. Those contracts don’t come with loopholes.”

“You seem to know a lot about such things.”

She noted that he didn’t comment on Mordecai and let it drop. She’d done all she could. He could believe her or not. The choice was his.

“Hey, I’m a graphic-novel illustrator. I read all kinds of dark fantasy.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“You like to read dark fantasy, do you?” One corner of his mouth kicked upward.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for wounded warriors and hopeless quests. I guess that’s why I got the job of setting you free. I’ve been prepping for it my entire life.”

Roric shook his head. “That is fiction. This is reality.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that.”

The air around them began to shimmer. The sun dimmed as a huge black cloud rolled in front of it. The wind picked up, tugging at her sweatshirt like a hundred unseen hands, ruffling her hair.

Roric turned in a circle, the swords winking into existence in a heartbeat. He held them slightly in front of him, ready to fight. “They’re coming.”

Her heart began to pound. Taking a deep breath, she watched the woods. What was once safe and familiar now appeared dark and foreboding. She needed a weapon, a way to defend herself. No way was she meeting one of these creatures empty-handed again. Somehow she knew the time for negotiating, for cajoling, was done.

The battle had truly begun.

She glanced at Roric, but he wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention. He swiveled his head from side to side. His nostrils flared, and she realized he was sniffing the air. The tiger within him would be able to scent danger before it arrived.

The woodpile was just off to the left of the porch. Sticking out of the chopping block was the splitting maul. It was like an axe and sledgehammer combined. The blade end was sharp, and she knew how to swing it. Aimee gave silent thanks to her father for teaching her to take care of her tools.

She could almost see him standing by the woodpile, tall and strong, swinging the maul down in a short arc. Wood split apart, falling to the ground. He’d wait until she picked up the pieces and piled them aside before swinging again. They’d spent many an hour like that.

Daddy’s little helper, he’d called her. After he was gone, she’d cherished the memories of those times spent together. She could almost hear his deep voice instructing her, “A dull blade is more of a hazard than a help, Aimee. You want to keep it sharp. You’re less likely to hurt yourself and it makes the work easier.”

“I hear you, Daddy,” she whispered as she went down the three steps to the yard.

“Where are you going?” Roric’s sharp voice broke the silence. He had been watching her after all.

“To get the maul.” Ignoring his muttered curse, she hurried to the woodpile. The air thickened and the sky turned so dark it seemed more like night. The sunny day of moments before vanished in the blink of an eye.

Rustling sounds came from just beyond the edge of the woods. Aimee grabbed the handle of the maul and yanked it out of the block. There was no sound behind her, yet instinct had her gripping the hickory handle and swinging it in one smooth motion. She whirled around, letting her body weight add to the momentum. The blade flashed and buried itself in the gut of a horrific creature straight from her nightmares. Blood spurted, and she knew she’d hit something vital. The shock of the hit reverberated up her arm. Aimee kept both hands on the handle to keep from losing her weapon and yanked it free.

The creature threw back its head and roared, shaking the very ground beneath her feet. Towering above her and casting a long shadow, the demon was about seven feet tall with gigantic, red-tinged eyes and a large, protruding jaw. Two rows of sharp teeth were exposed as he howled in pain. They were all pointed and looked razor sharp. He stood upright, his long fingers tipped with nails that were more like blades. This guy was a cross between Godzilla and Freddy Kruger.

This was so not good.

She heard Roric’s battle cry and the crash of his swords. He yelled her name, but she ignored him. She was a little busy herself at the moment. Without hesitation, she swung again and buried the axe head in the creature’s gut, jumping aside as he swung one of his great arms in her direction. Aimee ducked and fell to the ground, rolling to the edge of the woodpile, the heavy maul still in her hand. The creature was losing blood steadily, and his entrails were half spilled on the ground. Not that he seemed to notice. He just kept coming.

“This isn’t fair,” she muttered as she swiped her free hand over the leg of her jeans. Her palms were sweaty and covered with a combination of blood and stuff she really didn’t want to identify. It burned slightly, but she ignored it. The beast advanced on her, one plodding step at a time.

“Go for the head,” Roric shouted.

She risked a quick glance his way and was stunned. Roric was shirtless once again, swords moving so fast they were a blur as he chopped and hacked through the three demons attacking him. Like the one trying to make mincemeat out of her, they were like something out of a prehistoric nightmare. Their skin was thick and scaly, like alligator flesh, their jaws filled with those incredibly sharp-looking teeth.

“Look out!” he yelled.

Too late, Aimee realized she’d let her focus stray from her opponent. She jumped back and felt his lethal fingernails graze her stomach. Fabric ripped. She didn’t dare glance down to see how badly she was bleeding. Her stomach was wet, yet she didn’t feel any pain. Adrenaline rush. It would hurt later. If she was still alive.

A sense of calm enveloped her. She could do this. There was no other choice. Either she killed the creature or it would kill her. And she wasn’t ready to die, not if she could prevent it. The woodpile was right next to her and, as she looked at it, her eyes widened as a crazy idea went through her head. It could work. It would work.

Not giving herself any time to consider the pitfalls of her half-baked plan, she moved. She took a running step and jumped, gaining the top of the woodpile. Planting her feet, she whirled. The extra three feet in height was all she needed. The creature had predictably followed her and was now in her sights.

The axe head whistled in the air as she swung with all her might. The blade bit deep into the creature’s neck. She felt the slight hesitation and her stomach dropped. If this didn’t work, she was dead. Before she could even complete the thought, the blade sank deeper, slicing through bone, muscle and sinew.

The creature jerked back. Aimee was dragged forward. She toppled over the edge of woodpile, falling to the ground as the maul slipped from her grip. Dirt and small rocks bit into her palms as she caught herself. The beast clutched at its neck, yanking at the blade embedded there. Inhuman sounds came from its mouth, a cross between a roar of rage and a cry of pain. Blood flowed freely down its body, spilling onto the grass and pooling slightly on the ground.

“Die already!” Aimee shouted. Panting for breath, she pushed to her feet. Ignoring the various aches and pains running through her body, she staggered back to the dubious safety of the woodpile. There was no way for her to retrieve her weapon.

The creature tried to roar again, but blood filled its mouth, pouring over its bottom jaw. The sound was more of a wet gurgle, like water going down a drain. He took one plodding step toward her. Then another.

“Shit!” Won’t this thing ever die? Aimee grabbed a piece of wood from the top of the pile. It wasn’t quite two feet long and wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was all she had. And it was sure as heck better than nothing.

The beast advanced slowly. Suddenly, it stopped. Like a great tree being cut down, it heaved to one side and toppled to the ground, raising a cloud of dust as it settled in the dirt. Its breathing was ragged as it stared at her out of hate-filled eyes. She felt sorry for it. The creature was only doing what was in its nature, what it had been commanded to do. Still, she was glad it was the beast lying there and not her.

She jerked back when a flash of steel whipped thought the air in front of her. Roric’s sword cut through what was left of the creature’s neck, putting it out of its misery.

“You’re hurt.” Roric’s concern pulled her gaze from the dead demon. She glanced toward the back deck and saw three other carcasses littered across the ground like garbage. Her stomach roiled, and she dragged herself around the far end of the woodpile and lost her breakfast.

Her throat burned as she vomited several more times. Roric came up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders, his deep voice murmuring words of comfort in her ear. How embarrassing. She wanted to be a strong, kickass heroine and ended up puking her guts up instead.

“Let me see.” Roric shifted her away from the mess on the ground and tugged at the bottom of her sweatshirt. He examined her stomach and heaved a sigh of relief. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Aimee could see the thin slash that ran right across her belly from one side to the other. If she hadn’t jumped back in time, her guts would have been spilled onto the ground just like the creature who’d attacked her. It hadn’t hurt at all during the fight but ironically, now that she’d seen the wound, it hurt like the devil. Which was not a good analogy, all things considered.

“Will it need stitches?” She hoped not. She didn’t want to have to go to the local clinic and try to explain how she’d gotten such an injury. If she told them the truth they’d lock her up. And any explanation she could come up with left her sounding careless at best and slightly crazy and dangerous at worst. You see, doctor, the splitting maul slipped and I fell on the blade. That was so lame.

Roric placed his palm over her belly. She jerked when the warmth of his skin touched hers. She hadn’t realized just how cold she was until then. Her blood seeped around his fingers.

“We need to go inside. I’ve got some bandages in the bathroom that we can use.”

Ignoring her, Roric kept his hand on her stomach. His palm got steadily warmer as he began to chant under his breath. She didn’t recognize the language, had no idea what he was saying. It did sound sexy as all get out though.

She forgot all about his sexy voice a second later as heat flashed over her skin, practically burning it. Damn, it hurt. Aimee tried to pull away from him, but with the woodpile at her back and Roric in front of her, there was nowhere for her to go.

She closed her eyes and breathed through the pain, just like she used to when she was in the hospital all those years ago. She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. Her skin was hot, too hot, like she was running a fever. She thought she could smell it sizzling. She bit her bottom lip and tasted blood.

In spite of her determination to be stoic, the pain increased with each passing second. She finally broke, crying out in agony. Sweat beaded her forehead. Her legs and arms quivered and she began to sway.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The blazing heat disappeared. And so did the pain. Cool air, like a balm, blew over her flesh.

She opened her eyes and blinked at Roric. There was such a look of concern on his face she wanted to reassure him that she was fine. But talking was still too much for her. It took all her concentration and strength just to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Roric cupped her face in his hands, rubbing his thumb over her abused bottom lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but there was no other way.”

She thought for a moment he might kiss her, but he stepped away. When she remembered that she’d just lost her breakfast moments ago, she was glad he hadn’t. The front of her sweatshirt was in tatters and covered in blood. But the slash on her belly was no longer bleeding. In fact, it looked as though it was sealed. Tentatively, she touched it. Her fingers touched the edges of a raised scar, but that was it.

“You healed me.” There was disbelief in her voice as she poked at the injury.

“Yes. I’m sorry it hurt you, but that’s the price for the healing.”

“Wow!” She stared at Roric, wondering what other powers he had that she knew nothing about. “This is amazing.”

He shrugged. “I can heal minor wounds. If he’d gotten a better swing at you there is nothing I could have done to save you.”

That stark reminder of how close she’d come to dying was enough to jolt her back to reality. “I need to get cleaned up.” She motioned to the demon bodies littering her backyard. “What about them?”

“Hades will claim them.” Even as Roric spoke, the demons began to smolder from the inside out. Aimee watched in amazement as their bodies burst into flames, burning quickly until nothing was left but ash.

“Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Hades always retrieves what is his, one way or the other.” As if on cue, the wind whipped up, scattering the ashes. The ground around them was scorched and black. Other than that, not a single trace of the demons remained.

Roric peered around the yard, squinting as he stared into the woods. “From now on we stay together. I go where you go.”

Aimee wasn’t willing to argue the point. She’d come too close to dying. In silence, they headed into the house and upstairs to the bedroom.