Forbidden Read online

  It was as though the entire backyard of the apartment building was filled with shadows, like a swimming pool was with water. Somehow Owen knew they were the source of the freezing chill in the air. They swam all around Jael, who was glowing. No, it was his sword that was glowing. The blade was so bright now, Owen couldn’t look at it, and each time Jael swung it, he shredded the shadows to wisps. But then more shadows rushed in to fill the gap, pouring in like evil black water.

  There was someone else there too—another figure with a shining sword—but Owen barely had time to glance at whoever it was before they were suddenly standing in front of a shabby wooden door marked 119.

  Jael turned his head, his green eyes burning like emerald flames in his dark face. “Go!” he bellowed, nodding at the door. “Hurry, I can’t hold them off for long.”

  Owen didn’t ask any more questions. Clearly something beyond his comprehension was happening here. But if Leah was somewhere in the middle of this, being hurt—Please, God, no—then he intended to plunge right in. He tried the knob, but the door was locked. Placing his shoulder against the door, he shoved hard, and the cheap wood splintered, the lock snapping under the pressure. He rushed into the apartment, the sword Jael had given him tight in his fist, and saw…

  Nothing.

  There was nothing in the empty living room but a few scattered roach traps and a pile of clothes. Owen frowned and stepped forward, his eyes flickering over the scattered clothing, which looked familiar. A purple polo shirt, a pair of jeans turned inside out, as though someone had been in a hurry to get them off. “Or maybe like someone dragged them off,” whispered a little voice in his mind. And then… God, no. Oh no. A pair of pale pink panties. Leah’s, he was sure.

  Owen felt a rage building inside him that was like nothing he had ever known before. He wanted to rush through the apartment, calling her name. Wanted desperately to know she was all right, unhurt. But he had a feeling—an instinct that stirred far back in his brain—that whoever had her was dangerous. Very dangerous.

  Forcing himself to go slowly, he walked, sword held high, through the empty apartment. Nothing in the kitchen area or the breakfast nook either. Nothing but a dripping faucet in the empty, unused bathroom. That only left the bedroom.

  He turned down a short hallway and found himself in front of a closed door. There was no sound coming from the room behind the door, but he felt something. A silent signal of distress. Leah.

  His sword grasped firmly in one hand, he threw open the door, intent on taking whoever had her by surprise.

  But the only one in the room was Leah.

  She lay on the floor naked, her hands tied behind her back and her eyes closed. Over her mouth was a piece of duct tape—doubtless the reason he hadn’t heard any screaming. Her golden hair, fanned out around her head on the dingy tan carpet, was matted and filthy. It looked as though someone had spattered her with some kind of thick, sticky black tar. In fact, the oily, viscous substance was everywhere—dripping down her cheeks, splattered across her breasts, oozing over her thighs—and it smelled. Not an odor he could detect with his nose, but something worse. A psychic stench that reeked of corruption. It set his teeth on edge, made him feel sick and enraged at the same time. What the hell is it?

  But whatever it was, they could deal with it later. Now he had to get Leah out of here as fast as he could. And then he was going to kill the son of a bitch who had done this to her.

  Owen took a step forward, and her blue eyes fluttered open. They were red and swollen, as though she’d been crying, but they widened when she recognized him.

  He reached out to her. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Her eyes went even wider, and she shook her head violently. Her gaze whipped over his shoulder, her body rigid with fear. Behind you! There was no need for her to say it—he could feel it in every fiber of his being. His entire body seemed to vibrate like a plucked string, and everything moved in slow motion as he turned to see who—or what—was standing behind him.

  “Well, well. Looks like we have two for the price of one tonight. Did you come to let me fuck you too, angel boy? Or did you want to watch me fuck your girl?”

  The thing that was speaking might once have been human. On the outside it looked like a balding, middle-aged man with a huge, hairy gut and small, greedy eyes. But there was something wrong about it—something deformed. It looked less like a person than a puppet—a capering marionette whose strings were being pulled from the inside. And its pale blue eyes were full of bloodred flames.

  “You sick son of a bitch.” Owen’s voice was tight. “What have you done to her?”

  “What haven’t I done to her?” The thing grinned at him, and Owen realized suddenly that it was naked—as naked as Leah was. A thick, clublike penis hung between its legs, drooling oily black fluid down one hairy thigh.

  And then Owen knew.

  With a roar, he charged forward, and the sword in his hands suddenly burst into flame. He thrust the now-flaming sword at the thing, but it danced jerkily out of the way, laughing obscenely.

  “Defiled, defiled,” it crooned in a cracked, distorted voice. “It’s too late. You’re too late, angel boy. She’s ruined now. Defiled.”

  He should have been tempted to drop the burning sword, but he wasn’t. The flame felt cool against his skin—ice-cold, in fact—and clean somehow. The exact opposite of the filthy, capering thing in front of him. “Wielder of the cleansing fire.” He didn’t know where the words came from, but they rang in his head like a bell as he went after Leah’s tormentor.

  It had a blade in its hand now—a twisted black knife, crooked and cruel and utterly deadly. It jabbed at him with it, and Owen jumped away, trusting the instinctive way his body moved, as though he had done this kind of thing before.

  Another jab and he twisted away again and caught it with the edge of his blade. He slashed at the thing’s face, and suddenly its cheek was hanging in two flaps, pouring blackish red blood.

  Putting a hand to its face, it looked at the blood on its dirty fingers and laughed. “Not bad, angel boy. You always were good with a sword.” It jumped left suddenly, as though it would go for Leah. Owen moved to protect her.

  The black knife darted out, and a burning line of fire sliced across his upper arm. Owen glanced down to see that the short green sleeve of his scrub shirt was turning dark red. But there was no time for pain. Have to finish this. Have to get Leah out of here.

  Moving in a way that seemed both completely foreign and utterly familiar at the same time, Owen feinted to the right and pretended to stumble, letting his guard down for a split second. The thing came at him again, black knife ready to take advantage of his weakness, and Owen struck.

  Crouching low, he jabbed upward, and the flaming blade cut into the flabby belly. It melted the fat like butter, letting the guts come rushing out in a reddish gray tangle that looked like some kind of obscene apron hanging around its knees.

  The blow should have killed it. But though the thing that had taken Leah fell to its knees, it still looked up at him, its face still contorted in a smile. “Go on,” it rasped in that deep, distorted voice. “Kill this vessel. Send me back to hell. I’ve done what I came to do, angel boy.”

  Words came to Owen’s mouth that he didn’t understand, but he spoke them anyway because they felt right. “I’ll send you back, but not just to hell. Get thee to the pit, Asmodeus. By all that is holy, I cast you into the lake of fire, never to return.”

  The thing’s eyes bulged, and it shrieked. “The pit? No! You can’t…you caaaaa—”

  Owen took a double-handed grip on the flaming sword and raised it above his head. Then he brought it down with all his might. The burning blade split the thing’s skull in two, cutting off the scream and killing the demon for good.

  The thing was dead before it slumped to the ground, but Owen didn’t spend any more time on it. He ran to where Leah lay shivering, still covered in the horrible