“I can feel its power…” The reverence in his tone gave me pause, as did the empty stare he wore as he gazed upon it.
Warning shivered up my spine.
“Let me see.” I reached for the dead king’s heart, but Zen withdrew it as he shot to his feet, expression twisted with suspicion. “Zen,” I said sternly as I stood up to face him, “give it to me.”
Suddenly, the building shook with the force of the front door hitting the foyer wall like it had been blown off its hinges. Our attention snapped to the warded attic door and what lay beyond and I darted toward it and slipped the deadbolt in place. Zella and Hagan appeared at my feet seconds later as thundering footsteps echoed up the staircase to the third floor, where we stood motionless.
With Zen distracted, I snatched the Demonheart from his hand, and the power that had seemed to hold him captive pulsed in my palm. He quickly snapped out of his trancelike state as I pulled the wooden box he had obtained from the druid from his pocket and stuffed the wrinkled black mass inside. There was no time to unpack what had just transpired.
Trouble had found us.
“Oleander Nightshade!” Grisholm’s voice boomed in the closed room as though he were standing inside. “Give the Demonheart to me now—”
The attic door shook as he careened into it, the wood bowing from the impact. But the lock held, buying us the precious time we needed. I didn’t wish to fight Grisholm, and I wouldn’t let Zen, either.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I shouted back.
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” was Grisholm’s only reply before he collided with the door once more. A deafening crack rang out as the oak panels splintered to bits, the pieces flying at us like wooden daggers. Zen grabbed me around the waist from behind and hauled me backward as I cast out a swath of fire to incinerate the projectiles before they staked us like vampires.
Grisholm stormed through the door as cinders and ash rained down in the center of the cramped room. His wild eyes searched for us through the haze, but his gaze swept right over us, solidifying my belief that he wasn’t human, since we were apparently invisible to him.
Zen inched toward the window with me in tow.
“Show yourself,” Grisholm growled. I did no such thing. “I know you think you’re helping, Oleander, but you’re making a terrible mistake—one you can correct right now if you give me the Demonheart.”
Glass crunched under my boot, and his wizened eyes snapped to where we stood, hidden by Zen’s amulet but given away by the remains of the magical mirror. Grisholm’s body coiled, and he launched himself at the source of the sound, but Zen’s quick reflexes were too much for my benefactor. With a single leap, we shot through the window and fell. Terror ripped through me as we careened toward the hard ground, but it was all for naught. Zen, like an agile cat, landed on his feet with me in his arms and took off at an impossible speed.
Once we were safely around the corner, he put me down, and the two of us continued running until we’d put ample distance between Grisholm and us—or so I hoped.
“The infamous Grisholm, I presume?” he asked as we turned down yet another dank alley.
“Yes.”
Zen chuckled to himself as we sped through the shadows of the surrounding buildings, and I dared a glance his way to find him looking back as he ran. “I don’t think he’s very happy with you…”
“I think you might be right about that.”
His laughter fell away as he trained his eyes on the narrow pass before us. “I think that assumption is warranted now.” I didn’t bother to reply. “Tell me something, Andy: why did you take the Demonheart from me?” My continued silence stretched out until Zen’s hands grabbed my shoulders and whipped me into a shallow alcove, pinning me against the door. “I’m afraid the silent treatment will not suffice at the moment. There is too much at stake...”
“I didn’t trust the look in your eye as you held it,” I said, my tone accusatory, “so I took it and stuffed it into the box.” His expression soured as his grip loosened. “We don’t have time for this,” I said, shrugging him off. “We have a demon to eradicate, do we not?”
He looked to where I held the Demonheart, then frowned. “Just remember which one deserves to be eradicated when the time comes,” he said before heading back down the street, “because, trust or no, your fate is still tied to mine.”
We needed to stay out of sight from humans and demons—as well as Grisholm—so I found the nearest door to the tunnels and led the way into the subterranean labyrinth. Memories of the bodies I’d found there last time echoed in my mind, but the sharp edges of the druid box containing the Demonheart in my palm drew my attention back to the present. With it out of Xandros’ hands and Zen at my side, I could avenge those deaths.
Xandros would pay for all his evil deeds.
I stopped in the middle of the stony corridor and turned to Zen. “Tell me how we’re going to kill Xandros.”
“Right now? Right here?”
“It seems like the time, given that you have the Daughter of Fire you need and I have the Demonheart Xandros needs to become king.”
“You mean we have the Demonheart.” There was a note to his tone that couldn’t be ignored; a hint of warning. A reminder that this was our fight, not mine alone.
“That’s what I said,” I lied, wanting to brush past the issue. As I should have expected, the demon before me would have none of it. He closed the distance between us with two steady strides and looked down at me as though he weren’t quite sure how to proceed.
“Facing Xandros will still be dangerous,” he said, leaning in close. “There is power in possessing your soul—the soul of a Daughter of Fire as strong as you. He is halfway to the fate he wishes to seal. Do not forget that...”
“That’s why I’m going to take it back.”
Zen shook his head as he drew his finger along my cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “It’s not that simple, Andy. His death will not return it to you.”
“Then how—”
“He must either give it back,” he said, his lips skimming my earlobe and setting my body ablaze, “or another must retrieve it for you.” His hand snaked around my neck to cup the back of my head.
“Another?” I breathed. “Like who?”
“A demon…”
“Like you?”
“Like me.”
The fire in my body sputtered for a moment. “And what will that cost me, I wonder?” I pulled away enough to see the embers burning in his eyes.
“What would you give to have it back?” he asked, brushing his lips across my cheek. “Would it be worth this?” His mouth made its way down my neck to my collar, and he pushed it aside to continue on his path. “A lifetime of this...?”
“I am already bound to you for a lifetime, am I not?” I countered, though my voice was too breathy to be confrontational. It sounded more like I would melt in his hands if he kept at it much longer.
“That you are.” He nipped the top of my breast, and I gasped. The firelight in the tunnels flared to life with the pain and pleasure of it, and Zen smiled with satisfaction. “Promise to stay that way, and I will give you what you want.”
I ran my hands through his dark curls, gripping them tightly enough to pull him away. I needed some distance for a moment—long enough to clear my head. “To cleave the bond would sign my death warrant, would it not?”
His smile widened. “You paid attention.”
“Then I don’t see that I have a choice in the matter.”
He pressed closer against my hold on him until I released his hair. “Are you suddenly dissatisfied with our arrangement? Because you didn’t seem to be last night...”
“But our bond didn’t necessarily imply sexual encounters,” I argued, taking a step back from him. “That was a decision made in the moment, not a product of our arrangement, as you call it. Are you telling me that the two are now mutually inclusive? That to be bound to you means to be yo
urs in every way?”
He frowned ever so slightly. “Though I wish it did, it does not. If you would like to repeat that moment in time, you must choose to—over and over again.” The flame in my core roared to life at the thought. As if he could see that fire in my eyes, Zen backed me against the wall and brushed my coat aside to rest his hands on my waist. “So, what do you choose, Andy my dear?”
His fingers flexed against the thin fabric of my shirt, and heat emanated from his body into mine. We were beings of fire and darkness—survivors—but I wondered if we wouldn’t eventually burn ourselves out, consumed by the darkness between us neither could deny.
Then I wondered if I even cared.
“Perhaps you should remind me what’s at stake,” I said, doing my best to mimic the expressions with which he so loved to tease me. My effort was rewarded with the length of him pressed tight against my waist. “While you tell me how we’re going to kill Xandros.”
“Such macabre subject matter to discuss while I’m inside you,” he said as he untucked my shirt and unfastened my pants. “I couldn’t approve of it more.”
I grabbed his face and pulled it to mine. “Show me just how much you approve…”
His smile faded just before his lips crashed down upon mine. Neither of us bothered to remove clothing that wasn’t in the way of the task at hand. No, we were on a mission (two missions, really). There wasn’t time for anything else.
“First,” he said as he spun me around and pressed me against the wall, hands gripping my hips for leverage. He pushed himself inside me with one powerful thrust, and my approval echoed down the endless corridor. “We must get him alone.” I tried to focus on his words, but every ounce of blood in my body had already begun migrating toward my core, rendering my brain nearly nonfunctional. Instead, I gripped the smooth stones and pushed my hips back to meet his punishing pace. “Then, there is an incantation you must say—one your magic will instinctively know the moment you call for it.”
My mind was too addled to argue the point. “And what will you do?” I asked between greedy breaths.
“I,” he said, releasing his hold on my right hip to grab a fistful of hair. He craned my head back to his lips, his tongue dragging along my earlobe. “I will slay him while your fire encircles him and holds him in place.”
“But my fire doesn’t—”
“It will.” He tugged my head back further to emphasize his point, and I inhaled sharply.
“And the Demonheart?” My voice was tight and strained as the pressure in my core grew nearly unbearable, begging to be released with every thrust.
“It will be dealt with in the process.”
Knowing the end was near, I arched my back and tilted my hips up higher. My arms reached over to loop around his neck and pull him closer still. The movement spurred him on, and I held on for dear life as he fucked me senseless until we erupted together, the release so much more than just physical. For the first time since I’d encountered the demon, I believed we were ready to face Xandros—that we could actually defeat him.
And as that truth settled around me, cloaking me in a sense of confidence I'd never felt before, the piercing screech of a familiar raven rang out through the tunnels, shredding it to bits.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I turned to find Reginald soaring toward us out of the darkness, and my heart fell to my feet. Though I’d seen him many times in Ivy’s company—seen her send him to report to Grisholm—he’d never once come for me, and that reality had me pulling up my pants in a hurry.
“What—”
“Quiet!” I snapped at Zen. Then I reached out my forearm for the raven to land upon. His talons gripped me tightly, nearly slicing through my flesh, but I didn’t care. All that concerned me was why he had come. “What is it, Reginald? Where’s Ivy?”
The magical bird opened his beak, and Ivy’s voice flew out. “Oleander…he’s here. The demon is in the nunnery. We need you, now! We cannot stand against him without you.”
Reginald’s beak slammed shut, and the tunnel went silent.
“He’s found them…” I said, shock tainting my voice. “Xandros found them.”
“How can you be sure?” he asked, and I wheeled on him, fists clenched. “Forgive me, Andy, but I beg you to see what I’m seeing here. Ivy surely would have told the others of your treachery by now, I imagine. And Grisholm seemed desperate to stop you. Should you not consider that this might be a ploy to lure you back to them so they can take the Demonheart from you—and punish you for your actions?” I opened my mouth to argue but could not. My immediate concern for my sisters had blinded me to the possibility that the Lilies would use my love for them, however guarded it might be, against me. Anger burned in my chest at the thought. “Could you not send your familiars ahead to see?”
“No,” I said, fire flaring in my palms. “If this is indeed a trick, they would have prepared for that.”
“Then what do you wish to do?” he asked as his hands closed around mine, snuffing out the fire.
“I’m going to walk right into their trap,” I replied. “I’m going to tell them about our bond. Tell them what I did—how I deceived them and lied. I’m going to beg for their forgiveness. And then you and I are going to walk out of there and find Xandros so we can kill him.”
A wicked smile spread wide across his face. “Then let us not delay.”
He grabbed my hand and hauled me through the tunnels as my mind wrapped itself around what was about to happen. We ran at an inhuman pace, racing toward an uncertain fate. Scenarios played over and over in my mind, and I reached into my pocket and took the Demonheart in my hand. The connection I’d felt to it was cut off entirely by the druid’s box, but fear still spiked in my chest, and I ground to a halt a block away from the nunnery. Zen stopped a few yards in front of me and stared back with a quizzical look in his eyes.
“What if we’re wrong—what if Xandros is there attacking them?” Panic filled my veins at the thought. “You’re certain that this incantation will come to me?”
“We’re not wrong,” he replied, cupping my face gently, “and it will. I promise.” The warmth of his skin against mine soothed my nerves, and I climbed the ladder to the warded door above. With a press of my palm, the latch unlocked, and I threw it open with little care. But something niggled deep in my brain, setting me on edge yet again.
With the speed of demons, we raced through the alleys until we reached the main street where the Sisters of Sacred Hope stood tall and proud. But one look at the front entrance had my heart slam to a stop. The heavy wooden door hung askew on its hinges and slightly ajar, as though a wild animal had blown through it in a rage. Fear seized me as I thought of all the innocents the sanctuary held. The building’s holy nature and blessings—and our wards—had not been enough to keep Xandros from entering, and I knew that whatever lay beyond that door was likely to be gruesome indeed. That what had once been a haven for lost and battered souls had likely turned into a literal hell on Earth.
With no time to waste, Zen and I raced into the main hall. Claw marks gouged the walls, and the tapestries and paintings that had once adorned them lay on the ground, torn to shreds. Everything holy had been defiled in one way or another, Xandros’ way of taunting me no doubt, and I ran toward the secret entrance to our lair with my heart lodged in my throat.
Then the name of the limp form I saw lying at the end of the hallway knocked it loose.
“Agnes!” I cried, darting to her side. Blood stained her head covering and dripped onto the floor at her side. In her unmoving hand was her rosary. “Oh, no…no, no, no…” I dropped to my knees beside her, tears welling in my eyes. “Agnes, it’s Oleander,” I said softly as I took her hand in mine. Her head lolled toward me, and her eyes fluttered open. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief.
“Oleander,” she whispered, her voice almost too weak to hear. “Demon...came for you...”
“Just hold on, Agnes,” I said as I quickly assessed her wounds
. Four claw marks were carved deep into her cheek and two were on her neck, having narrowly missed her major blood vessels. Perhaps God truly had been watching over her. “You’re safe now, I promise.”
With a rub of my cuffs and a whispered call, Zella and Hagan appeared and coiled on either side of Agnes. “Hagan, I need you to stop the bleeding.” His forked tongue flickered in acknowledgment. “Agnes, this is going to hurt.” I looked back at my familiars, my eyes filled with the rage I planned to unleash on Xandros. “Keep her safe. Let nothing touch her. Is that understood?” Their eyes glowed a vibrant orange-red. “I have to go, Agnes.”
“The others are safe,” she said, “but your sisters…” Her eyes opened more fully; the second they landed upon Zen, they went wide, and her hand scrambled around her rosary. Then her fingers brushed against Hagan’s tail, and the bloodcurdling scream she let loose was instantaneous.
Our arrival was as good as announced.
“Here,” Zen said, crouching down beside her. Terror twisted Agnes’ expression as Zen reached for her. She whimpered as he pressed his hand against her head and whispered in his demonic language. Her body went slack, though she remained conscious. Hagan seized the opportunity to do as I’d asked and cauterized her wounds with his tongue.
Agnes did not stir.
“We must go,” he said, hauling me up by my arm.
I quickly led the way to the spiral staircase and up to the library with the secret door. It, too, was open, revealing the melee inside. Spells and magic crackled in the air as we spilled into the room full of blood and screams and chaos. Willow lay in a heap on the floor by the far bookshelf with Hazel standing over her, arms outstretched and bloodied as she called the wooden debris in the room to her to for a shield around our fallen sister. Ivy stood with Petal in the center of the room where the worktable had once been, glass and metal swirling around her in a tornado of debris. Blood trickled from Petal’s nose as her features scrunched with concentration, her eyes closed, trusting Ivy to keep her safe. I followed Ivy’s steely glare to the corner on my left and found a harbinger of death looming there.
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 23