A shred of her consciousness whispered through her mind to fight the sword’s mental suggestions. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was the sword and not the demon, but she did. The sword cried out for her. Tempted her. Needed her.
She covered her ears, surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears.
Greyson peeled out of the parking lot, barely missing Mamon’s swing of the sword as he sped out onto the street. As he put distance between them and the warehouse, the buzzing gradually started to fade.
Come to me, chosen one. Destiny. Chosen. One.
Greyson’s heavy hand squeezed her thigh. “Are you with me?”
She sucked in a shaky breath, staring into the side mirror. Terror bubbled in her stomach as she whispered, “I can’t fight that.”
“What happened back there?”
She shivered, running her hands up her arms, unsettled by the sight of her broken fingernails and raw fingertips. She’d been like a wild animal trying to flee the car. Shit.
She couldn’t stop the tremors racing through her limbs.
This thing. This wasn’t something she could shoot.
The cursed blade could cut through any material. There was no weapon and no shield that would withstand it. And the damned whispers, like bugs crawling under her skin. There was no escaping it and no stopping it. Panic licked at her insides.
“Aura?” Greyson’s voice lured her back from the edge of panic. “Yer safe, love. Talk to me.”
“The sword.” Her voice was dry, ragged from screaming. She cleared her throat. “Could you hear it?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Did it speak to you?”
“It’s my destiny.” Goose bumps rose on her arms as she peered into the side mirror, watching the road behind them. “It needs me. It’s in my head. It won’t stop.”
She fought to unscramble her exhausted mind. The Tyrfing was a cursed blade hungry for blood. Hers? It made sense.
Jones seemed to have no problem wielding the blade, but maybe he needed blood to feed it. Maybe that kept the magic alive.
She had more questions than answers.
He rubbed her thigh, soothing some of the terror. “It wants you to think that. How many years was it forgotten in the vault? We’ll put the cursed thing back where it belongs.”
She looked over at his profile. He was right.
She’d lost sight of that in the ocean of fear the blade had sunken her into. It could be locked up. If she really was the chosen one, it could have been calling for her for years, but she’d never heard it.
She blinked as she sucked in a shaky breath. She didn’t hear it right now.
“Distance.” She took out her phone. “It can only attack me, or attract me, or whatever that was, if it’s near me.”
“So we put you on a plane to D.C. tonight.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “I’ll bring the sword back to Bale. You stay the fuck away from that thing.”
Part of her loved his plan, but she wasn’t a huge fan of running and never looking back. “I can’t.”
He looked over at her, his eyes incredulous. “Yer fucking kidding me. No way, love. That thing…it’ll break you.”
“You saw the demon. You couldn’t stop him with your bullets. This isn’t a creature who just landed on earth. Somehow, he infiltrated the police force and Department 13. I worked with him for hours, day in and day out, with no idea he wasn’t just another badge.” Her fingers loosely threaded with his. “We don’t even know if you’d be able to touch the Tyrfing.”
“If that demon can hold it, I damned sure can.” Greyson searched her eyes. “Stay away from it. The Grail can keep you from aging, but it can’t heal your mind. Eternity is a long time to be trapped in the clutches of a cursed sword.”
She looked down at their joined hands and considered his words. Jones…or Mamon wasn’t the chosen one, and he’d carried it. Maybe Greyson could take the Tyrfing.
She lifted her gaze. “Why does the sword need my blood? Why would a demon risk so much to find me?”
“I don’t know.” Greyson shrugged, keeping his attention on the road. “Did you hear it say anything useful?”
She shuddered involuntarily, her entire body flooding with adrenaline at the thought of reliving those moments.
Fear, and the helplessness that walked hand in hand with it, had inspired most of her life choices. She’d devoted her life to law enforcement to combat injustice, to look fear in the eyes and say, “Fuck you.”