Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
Teaser chapter
A DEMON IN LOVE . . .
There was a fire inside of Darrak that had nothing to do with Hell anymore. It was a fire ignited by the auburn-haired woman who studied him intently like whatever he said next was going to be some sort of prophecy for their future together.
“Kiss me,” he said.
It appeared to be a prophecy that had immediate results. Eden drew closer, took his face between her hands, and pressed her lips against his with a kiss that would have swelled his immortal soul if he’d actually been in possession of one.
Praise for the paranormal romances of
MICHELLE ROWEN
“Let us welcome this fresh voice to the genre.”
—Booklist
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—Sherrilyn Kenyon, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“What a charming, hilarious book! Frankly, I’m insanely jealous I didn’t write it.”
—MaryJanice Davidson, New York Times bestselling author
“I have never read a Michelle Rowen book that I did not adore.”
—Enchanted by Books
“Michelle Rowen’s books never fail to thrill.”
—Bitten by Books
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—Larissa Ione, New York Times bestselling author
Berkley Sensation Titles by Michelle Rowen
THE DEMON IN ME
SOMETHING WICKED
THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC
NIGHTSHADE
BLOODLUST
Anthologies
PRIMAL
(with Lora Leigh, Jory Strong, and Ava Gray)
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / December 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Michelle Rouillard.
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ISBN : 978-1-101-55243-8
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ONE
“Ready to hear your ultimate fate?”
Eden glanced warily at the shirtless demon sitting at the tiny dinette table in her tiny apartment with the daily newspaper’s Horoscope section in front of him. Seemed harmless enough, and yet a chill ran down her spine. Something about Darrak’s statement felt like an omen. A bad one.
Maybe she was just being paranoid. Nothing new there.
She pushed back against the unpleasant vibe. “Sure.”
Darrak absently raked his messy dark hair back from his forehead. “You’re a Gemini, right?”
“Present and accounted for.”
“Be prepared for a blast from the past as an old acquaintance, one whose destiny is irreversibly intertwined with yours, wants to reconnect. Also, buy more crunchy peanut butter as soon as possible.”
She nodded. “Let me take a wild guess here . . . you added the last bit yourself.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true. We’re out. And I love it.”
“I’ll put it on my grocery list.”
“Life is good.” He studied her for a moment longer before his grin began to fade at the edges. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Eden crossed her arms. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. Everything’s wonderful. Fabulous, in fact.”
“Overcompensating in your reply only leads me to believe that something’s seriously wrong.” When he stood the Horoscope page fluttered to the carpeted floor at his feet. His brows drew together. “What is it?”
It was surprising how quickly Darrak could switch from amusement over a horoscope and a craving for crunchy peanut butter to deep concern for her well-being.
He wanted to know what was bothering her. That was a very dangerous question these days.
Ever since Eden woke this morning, she’d felt the unrequested tingle of magic moving down her arms and sparking off her fingertips. She didn’t allow herself to tap into her recently acquired powers despite it being a constant itch for her. Magic—at least her magic—came with nasty consequences.
She could control it, she kept telling herself. She could.
Sometimes she even believed it.
“You need to get dressed,” she said instead of answering his question. Her gaze moved over his very bare and very distracting chest. “We have to leave for the office in five minutes.”
Black jersey material immediately flowed over Darrak’s skin. Since he’d come into Eden’s life a month ago, she’d wanted to take him shopping at a mall, but oth
er than a leather coat he occasionally wore—short sleeves in Toronto in chilly mid-November might be a tip-off that he wasn’t exactly human—he magically conjured his own clothing, which seemed to solely consist of black jeans and black T-shirts.
She slid her hands into the pockets of her navy blue pants and turned away from him.
Darrak caught her arm. “It’s your magic, isn’t it?”
The peanut-butter-loving demon could be very insightful. “My magic?”
“I can feel it, you know. Right now. It’s coming off you in waves.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
She grabbed her purse, which was hanging off the back of one of the dinette chairs, to fish in it for her new BlackBerry. Andy McCoy, her partner at the investigation agency they co-owned, insisted they become more technically savvy now that their caseload had increased, so he’d bought them both brand-new phones. Triple-A Investigations had been on the brink of bankruptcy only a month ago, but now they were busy with new cases.
The sudden surge in business was directly related to Darrak coming into Eden’s life. While working as an occasional psychic consultant for the police, she’d been possessed by the cursed demon after the death of his previous host, a serial killer gunned down right in front of her.
Darrak was able to take solid human form during daylight hours, but when the sun set, he became incorporeal and had to possess her body. She’d recently had the chance to end the possession once and for all, but that would have destroyed him completely. Her privacy was a great motivator to find a solution to their problem, but not at such a high price.
After all . . . she’d come to care a great deal for the demon since they’d first met.
Unfortunately, all roads in their search for mutually beneficial separation had led to dead ends. Some deader than others.
She finally tore her gaze away from the screen of her phone to look at him and cringed when she noticed the searching look in his ice blue eyes. “I said nothing’s wrong. Please, Darrak, don’t worry.”
“Your phone is on fire.”
He was right. A spark from her magic had ignited her BlackBerry. She shrieked and threw it before it burned her. It skittered across the breakfast bar and landed with a sizzle in the kitchen sink. “Well, damn.”
Before she had a chance to move Darrak was right in front of her. He pulled out the chain she wore around her neck so her amulet lay flat against her freshly ironed white shirt.
“It’s even darker than it was yesterday.”
She clamped her hand over the visible state of her soul. The more she used her magic, the more damage it did. A black witch, even an extremely reluctant one like her, started with a pure white soul, but it grew darker and darker every time she accessed her very accessible black magic. Eden’s amulet was still pale gray, but it had darker veins branching through it, making it look like a piece of marble.
She shook her head. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Then what are these?” He pushed her hand away and slid his index finger over the veins.
She grimaced. “A glitch.”
“A glitch,” Darrak repeated skeptically. “Not sure it works like that.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Eden—” All amusement was gone from his voice now. “I’m worried about you.”
A demon from Hell was worried about her immortal soul. It sounded like a joke. But Darrak wasn’t any normal demon. And she wasn’t any normal black witch.
Once upon a time, Darrak had been just as bad as any demon who’d ever existed—as immortal as he was immoral, sadistic, powerful, selfish, manipulative, and deadly. He’d even conspired with a demonic pal to overthrow Lucifer himself in an attempt to take his power as Prince of Hell. However, they’d failed. Rather spectacularly, in fact.
Darrak had been summoned into the human world over three hundred years ago and a curse put on him that destroyed his original body and his ability to manifest a new one. He’d been forced to possess humans ever since. A side effect of this was that he’d absorbed humanity slowly but surely, and it infused his being. The demon had developed a conscience. Morals. A sense of right and wrong.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
To add to Eden’s growing paranormal resume, she’d recently been shocked to learn in addition to being a black witch she was also a nephilim.
A human mother plus an angel father equaled one very confused twenty-nine-year-old woman—black witch plus half-angel in the same body. It wasn’t exactly a combination that was working out perfectly, kind of like oil and water.
And the bonus prize—she was possessed by a demon.
It had been an interesting year to say the least.
Her angel side infused her with celestial energy, something she’d never even sensed before apart from a smidgeon of unreliable psychic insight. But it was what Darrak had absorbed over the last month due to their situation. And he’d absorbed a lot of it.
Bottom line, a human conscience was the least of Darrak’s troubles. A demon who’d been neck-deep in celestial energy as he had been in the last month . . .
Well, it was changing him on a core level. Only he didn’t exactly know it yet.
Eden knew it would shake his already shaky confidence, not to mention his entire identity, to find out he was becoming a little more . . . angelic. Whether he liked it or not.
The news could wait a little longer.
“Eden,” Darrak prompted when she didn’t speak for a while. “Are you going to talk to me or what?”
“You mean I have a choice?”
“No. No choices. This is not a choose-your-own-adventure novel. Your amulet is darkening and you say you’re doing nothing to cause this. Is that right?”
Eden didn’t want to deal with this, but sometimes fate didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath before it threw another bucket of water in your face.
She looked up at him. “I can feel it this morning stronger than ever. I’m honestly not sure how much longer I can control it.”
Darrak took her face between his hands. “But you want to control it.”
She touched one of his hands but didn’t pull away from him. “Of course I do.”
“I wish to hell I could protect you from all of this.” His jaw tensed. “Looks like it’s time to get some outside help.”
He walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
Darrak held a finger up to her. She flopped down on a chair at the table, already exhausted from talking about something she would much prefer to continue trying to ignore—magically melted BlackBerry or not.
She really hoped Andy had taken out a warranty on the device.
“Stanley?” Darrak said after a moment. “Do you know who this is?” A pause. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be scared. I’m not going to do that to you.” Another pause. “Seriously, I’m not. Evisceration is extremely messy and the cleanup is a—Come on. Stop crying. Be a man.”
That Darrak’s “outside help” required contacting Stanley didn’t fill Eden with a great deal of confidence. Stanley worked as a minion for just about any supernatural creature who paid or threatened him. Not exactly her favorite guy in the city.
“Is he back?” Darrak asked. “He is? Why didn’t you let me know this already? Oh, come on. Stop crying.”
Eden’s hands tingled. It was so tempting to throw out a spell right here, right now. It still seemed like just a dream that all of this had happened to her. Demons were real. Angels were real. Witches were real, and they came in a few different varieties.
White witches—the good and beneficial nature lovers. Among other things, Eden had heard they could make flowers grow and dying trees come back to life. How nice for them.
Gray witches—able to blend both white magic and black magic with the ability to do this successfully without damaging their souls provided they maintained a perfect balance.
“We need to see him as soon as possible.” Darrak paced back and forth between her kitchenette and the dinette area. “That sounds fine. Why are you still crying? Suck it up, dude. Seriously.”
He hung up.
“You upset Stanley,” Eden said. “Actually . . . I’m fine with that.”
Darrak shrugged. “He’s still intimidated by my fearsome archdemon reputation. Nice to know somebody is.”
“Are you going to share what that was all about?”
“We’re seeing Maksim. Today.”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. “The wizard.”
“The one and only. Sounds like he’s finally back from his vacation.”
Maksim the wizard had gone on vacation after surviving a torture session by Theo—Darrak’s former demon friend—a couple of weeks ago. Before he went AWOL, the wizard was supposed to help them find a way to break his curse, even though rumor had it only the witch who’d originally cursed him could do something about that. Since she was now dead it was a moot point.
“You really think he can help me?” She didn’t want to hope for too much from a simple phone call. Disappointment was a heartless bitch.
“I don’t think he can hurt. Wizards and witches go hand in hand, after all. Didn’t you read Harry Potter?”
Eden stared at him. “Well, yeah.”
“I didn’t read the books,” he continued. “But I did get to see the movies. A previous host was a fan. He even wore dress robes and pretended he’d been sorted into a house. Hufflepuff, if you can believe it. Who liked Hufflepuff best? I mean, seriously.”
That Old Black Magic Page 1