Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(37)

Ashael stared at the relic as if he, too, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then he laughed, a sharp, grating sound.

“I fail to see anything funny,” Ian said coldly.

“I do,” Ashael said, still chuckling. “And the joke is on me. Clearly, the horn agrees with Veritas about you.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” I protested.

“You and the horn both think Ian is special.” Ashael stopped laughing to give Ian a hard look. “I disagree, but magic as old as that horn chooses its wielder, and only rare, raw power plus the potential for more draws it.”

Chooses its wielder . . . I’d heard of such objects, but had never seen one before. “Are you saying this horn was made?”

Ian looked at me as if I’d recently been hit hard in the head. “It’s a ram’s horn; a bloody ram made it.”

“That’s not what she means.” Ashael’s gaze held mine, confirming my suspicion. Then he turned to Ian. “Most weapons were forged by man, but a select few were made by the gods. You’ll have heard of famous ones like Thor’s hammer, Arthur’s Excalibur, Poseidon’s trident, and Apollo’s bow, but there are lesser-known ones, like Hang Tuah’s dagger, Ninurta’s mace, Huitzilopochtli’s ray . . . and Cain’s horn.”

Ian grunted. “Don’t tell me you believe that dried-up corpse is Cain, too? Can’t fathom how Timothy was deluded into joining a crazed Cain cult, but then he always was a dreamer—”

“The skeleton on the altar is Cain?” I interrupted, astonished.

“So my mate claims,” Ian replied, derision coating his tone. “But even if that was the fabled first vampire cursed to forever drink blood as punishment for slaying his brother, Abel, he’s now as dead as my virginity. Still, Timothy wouldn’t leave him even after I took this”—another shake indicated the horn wrapped around Ian’s forearm—“and this apparently has value.”

Ashael arched a brow. “His acolytes think Cain will rise again, given the right mixture of blood. I’ve seen vampires regenerate from a skeletal state, so I suppose it’s possible.”

I stayed silent. Ashael didn’t need to know that Ian was one of those rare vampires who could degenerate to bones and then regenerate. He knew too much already, family or no family.

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, the right mixture of blood?”

A shrug. “His acolytes have tried many varieties. Blood of a virgin, blood of the slain, blood of the damned, blood of a vampire, blood of a ghoul, blood of a demon, blood of a demigod—I sold them that one—and countless combinations of all the above. Nothing worked. Some believe only the blood of a tri-bred will raise him since Cain also created the first ghoul.”

I stiffened, then forced myself to relax. Good thing Ashael hadn’t been looking my way. Ian hadn’t moved so much as a muscle though he had to be thinking the same thing I was.

“A tri-bred?” Ian’s voice was smoother than water. “You mean part human, part vampire, and part ghoul, like the little girl the vampire council executed recently?”

Ashael gave us a knowing look. “They were quick with that, weren’t they? Almost like some on the council knew the rumor that Cain could rise if given that child’s blood.”

“Why wouldn’t the council want a vampire with supposedly unrivaled powers like Cain back among them?” I countered.

Ashael snorted. “The same reason most people don’t want their god among them, all protestations aside. Gods tend to point out their followers’ hypocrisy, and few want that.”

I didn’t argue. History wouldn’t be on my side. Instead, I said, “Best to let sleeping gods lie, then.”

Ian extended his left arm to Ashael. “I don’t care what the horn wants. I told you I’d fetch it for you, so here. Take it.”

Ashael gave the horn a look I couldn’t read. Then he met Ian’s gaze and smiled as if he had never wanted it in the first place. “Who am I to argue with an ancient relic’s preference? But you did fulfill your end of our bargain, so I’ll fulfill mine, and take you and Veritas to Yonah’s now.”

“Wait.” Both men turned. “We need to get Silver first,” I told Ian. “He’s already been alone too long.”

Ashael’s expression darkened. “I did not agree to transport anyone else.”

“Believe me,” I said with a dry laugh. “When you see Silver, you won’t mind.”





Chapter 21


The small plane bounced like a stone skipping across a pond. If we got any closer to the ocean’s surface, we’d soon sink like that proverbial stone, too. But Ashael seemed more concerned with staying below radar than keeping a safe distance between our aircraft and the Pacific.

Ashael teleported us everywhere else, so I’d assumed he’d teleport us to Yonah’s, too. Wrong. After we picked Silver up back in Pennsylvania, Ashael had teleported us to a small, private airport in California. The Cessna Skyhawk he rolled out could have been his plane, or he could’ve been stealing it. With demons, either was a possibility.

Then Ashael had flown us out over the Pacific. The flight had been smooth until an hour ago. Now, another rough patch of air shook the Cessna hard enough to make us bounce in our seats. Silver whined. I reached over the short distance to his seat to give him a reassuring pat. Ashael glanced back at the Simargl and for a second, his gaze softened. Then, he caught me watching and his coolly arrogant expression returned.