Chapter 16 Delilah
Chapter sixteen
Delilah
The gentle tinkle of a fountain offered a soothing accompaniment to the gentle hum of the sleeping city around us as we piled out of Archer’s gate and into...somewhere.
Looking around, I noticed we stood on a red-bricked pathway, lined on both sides with towering trees, some still defiantly holding on to the last of their season’s leaves.
At one end of the corridor stood the fountain that had greeted us, at the other, a statue of a man on a horse held pride of place on a huge marble base.
“Come,” Archer snapped, closing the gate and stalking off toward the fountain. “We haven’t much time.”
“Where are we?” I asked Vine quietly, not wanting Archer directing any more of his ire my way.
“Beantown, baby,” he chortled. “Home of the Red Sox.” At my confused look, Vine frowned. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re a Yankees fan.”
“Leave her be, Vine,” Corson grunted, his eyes on Archer’s back as we followed behind him. “The sun will be up soon, so let’s try not to draw any unwanted attention this time, yeah?”
Dropping his voice, Vine leaned close. “Corson is definitely a Yankee’s fan.”
Rolling my lips to keep in my laugh, I cradled Pandora’s pouch against my chest and kept moving.
Our silent party marched along, trooping past the fountain and beneath a beautifully filigreed wrought iron gate which Archer opened with a wave of his hand.
Squinting at the sign on the brick pillar, I gasped when I realized it was the entrance to Old North Church.
“We’re going after the second piece of the Fallen Key?” My surprise was evident, my voice louder than I’d intended as I realized where Archer had brought us, and he rounded on me with a furious glare.
“Could you speak a little louder, witch? Maybe stand in the middle of the street and shout. Invite the whole of the Order to know our plans.” Eyes narrowed, he glared at me. “Unless that truly is your intention. Do you mean to betray us, witch?”
“Of course not!” I protested, the collar at my throat rippling in what felt like indignation on my behalf. “I was just curious.”
Archer eyed the collar, swallowing thickly before bringing his gaze back up to mine. “Your curiosity may get us all killed. Stay close and stay quiet.”
Pursing my lips, I nodded, everything inside me wanting to spit fire back at him, but thankfully my brain knew it was in my best interest to do as I was told.
At least for now.
Dried autumn leaves danced around my feet, carried through the narrow courtyard on the night wind, giving the whole place a cryptic, haunting vibe.
It was as though I could feel the weight of the centuries of history these bricks had witnessed, each short life just a small footnote in the grand scheme of it all.
That thought had me pausing, looking at Archer as he approached one of the small doors on the back of the church.
How much must he have seen over the centuries? How many people had he met, known, maybe even come to love, only to have to watch their lives end while he continued on? How hard must it have been to know that everything around you would come and go, but you will endure, for good or for ill?
It sounded like a very lonely life, and for just one second, I felt myself softening toward him, something like sympathy growing in my heart.
Then he glared at me again, and I buried that sympathy as deep as it would possibly go.
Looking around cautiously, Archer stood by the door, leaning down to rap his knuckles against the wood in a series of knocks that were obviously some sort of code. He paused, then did the code again, this time a little louder. By the third time, I could hear footsteps from inside the church.
A narrow slot in the center of the door opened, and a pair of bright blue eyes peeked out, narrowed, then widened in obvious surprise. The clanking sound of several latches being opened rang through the quiet night, then the door swung inward revealing a statuesque woman, her smile wide.
“Archer,” she cooed, giving him an assessing look that had my lip curling with annoyance. “What a lovely surprise. It’s been so long.”
“Oh, this shit just got real interesting,” Vine murmured before pushing past me, tucking my body behind his in a move that seemed almost protective. Still, that curiosity got the better of me again, and I peeked around him, trying to see her.
“Percy!” he shouted, drawing her attention away from Archer and on to himself. “You’re looking ravishing as always.”
The woman was gorgeous, her coal-black hair and olive skin hinting at a Mediterranean heritage.
She was far taller than I was, with a willowy build that was curvy in all the right places.
Dressed as she was, in a mid-length cotton dress with a high, square neckline, she should have looked demure and respectable, but somehow, that dress on her body looked positively scandalous.
Considering the hour, I’d have expected her to look like she’d just rolled out of bed.
Instead, she was runway ready at sunrise, dressed and prepared to welcome a group of demons who knocked on her door unannounced.
The world really was unfair sometimes.
Realizing that I still stood in my soiled dress, my cloak looking ragged and worn, I rolled my shoulders self-consciously, hating the natural inclination I had toward feeling intimidated by her.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the notorious Lothario himself.
” Spreading her arms, she pulled Vine into a warm hug, laughing when he picked her up and spun her around as she squealed and giggled.
Once he’d set her back on her feet, she smiled up at him indulgently.
“How have you been, Vine? Still dragging unsuspecting females around wherever you go?” Percy eyed me, her face full of sympathetic humor.
“Oh, she’s not my unsuspecting female, Percy. She’s Archer’s.”
Any trace of humor immediately vanished, Percy’s entire demeanor going from friendly to hostile in the space of a heartbeat.
“I’m guessing this isn't a social call, then?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom as she took a step closer to Archer, one hand coming to rest on his chest.
“No,” was all he said.
“Shame,” she replied, blinking her blue eyes at him flirtatiously. “Last time you stopped by we had such fun. Remember, Archer? The ropes. The bell tower. The screaming.”
Archer cleared his throat, looking decidedly uncomfortable which gave me a sick kind of happiness. I certainly didn’t like the way her words had stirred an acidic rush of jealousy in my guts, churning in a way that I was absolutely trying to ignore.
Not that I had anything to be jealous about; Archer had been nothing but horrible to me. He was a brute and a monster, and he was literally holding me captive. I should hate him. Immensely.
But that wasn’t all he was.
I told myself to ignore the subtle ways he’d looked out for me. The natural protective—if slightly possessive—instinct he seemed to have when it came to me. All those good qualities were drastically outnumbered by the bad, right?
But if that were true, why did I continue to feel an undeniable pull toward him? And why did his shadow magic seem to fit inside me like the missing piece of a very large puzzle?
Without thinking, I brought my hand up to stroke the collar, feeling it almost purr beneath my touch. The move was unconscious, as though just thinking about Archer’s shadows made me want to ensure that the collar was still there. Still a part of me.
Unfortunately, the move brought even more attention my way.
“You collared her?” Percy hissed, rounding on Archer. “Are you serious right now?”
“It’s not like that, Persephone,” Archer sighed, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“What is it like then, Archer?” the angry beauty went on. “Explain it to me, because the last time we spoke, you said you’d never—”
“She’s my prisoner.”
That pulled her up short, her full, perfect mouth left hanging open as she processed his words. She stared at me, her contempt still there, but now her eyes also held contemplation, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a touch of fear.
“You’re here to see my uncle then?”
“We are. Now, if you would let us in, we could conduct our business and be on our way.”
Archer sounded exhausted, and I wondered how much sleep he’d gotten back at the brownstone. I imagined it wasn’t much, not if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication. He looked tired. The kind of tired that wore you down to dust, and my heart ached for him just a little.
“Or, you could stay. Let me take care of you like the old days.”
“Persephone.”
“It’s almost Samhain,” she pressed, blinking her long lashes at him. “We haven’t spent a cross-quarter festival together in ages.” The woman was relentless. “If you want, we can—”
“Persephone!”
“Fine,” she pouted, dropping her flirting and crossing her arms. “Uncle Nathaniel is in the office. You know the way.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and stomped away into the darkened church.