Demon Fate

by Tori Centanni

  Well, joke was on him.

  I reached out and my fingers brushed the dark metal of the obsidian blade. I pulled it toward me.

  More laughter.

  Your stubbornness will make your demise even more delectable.

  The words were beamed inside my skull with demonic telepathy and I winced. He’d spoken like that to me when he’d possessed me, and the memory of it came slamming back, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of helplessness.

  I shook it off. That was what he wanted. Not just to kill me and use my blood for some weird magic or whatever demons did with the bodies of those they destroyed. No, he wanted me to feel utter, total despair and misery. He wanted me to know I was alone and unable to save myself.

  Screw that.

  In one motion, I grabbed up the sword and got to my feet. I leapt over Conor and thrust the blade out toward the demon. The edges of my vision swam and I swayed, struggling to stay upright.

  “What do you want with me?” I demanded.

  “With you? Nothing. You’re a pathetic little mortal creature who will age and die. I am an immortal demon from the Underworld. You’re nothing to me.” There was an edge to his words. He clenched his fists, his razor-sharp nails clacking together. But his anger had another effect: the blackness around me retreated a little. The world widened. Sound got louder.

  I kept my face neutral but inside, I did a little victory dance. If I made him angry enough, I might just survive this. And I was really good at pissing people off.

  “If I’m nothing, why didn’t you run me through like your buddy over there?”

  Ashraith looked behind him. I took a step forward, obsidian blade gleaming. “Jax was a tool. I used him. You were a vessel. I used you up as well.”

  He curled his fingers in a way that made my skin crawl. Having a handful of knives was a pretty good advantage in a fight.

  “That’s funny, because I feel fine.” Not even close. I was dizzy, my ribs hurt when I moved, and my legs were shaky as hell. “Seems all you did to me was make me a better magic user.”

  Ashraith narrowed his eyes and they glowed an orange shade of red like a fire intensifying. “You might have fought me out of you, but it was a fluke. I was weak and distracted or you’d never have managed it.”

  His words were defensive, his expression annoyed, and it hit me like a ton of brimstone: he was just a petty asshole.

  Ashraith, the supposedly great and powerful demon, was bitter I’d managed to fight him out. That was why he’d had his mage buddy try to kidnap me, and why another kidnapper was sent to grab me. When that didn’t work, they’d grabbed Penelope to lure me here. Getting a physical body was part of some bigger plan to destroy local supernaturals, I was sure, but this part, making sure I was present to witness his triumphant moment before he slowly squeezed the life out of me? It was just him getting vindictive revenge.

  “Wow, what a petty little baby you are,” I said, and smiled.

  Ashraith, who’d been coiling as if preparing to strike, paused. He stared at me, his whole being burning with hatred. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a sore loser. That’s all this is. I beat you once to get you out of my body and again when you possessed a vampire. You can’t stand that you’ve lost to me twice. All this,” I gestured to the tiny gas station market, “is just your way of flipping the table because you’re not winning the game.”

  He opened his mouth and started to argue but seemed too furious to form words. There was a loud pop! in the air of a spell breaking. The blackness retreated to the very edges of my vision and then vanished. Sound returned to normal. He’d lost control of whatever magic he’d been casting on me to make me feel useless and dark. The heaviness lifted and I felt light as a feather.

  I swung my sword at his neck. He reared back, out of range.

  Stop!

  The voice rang in my head. I stopped, hesitating only for a second.

  If you kill me, you lose your precious demon magic. You’ll be an ordinary witch.

  Panic overtook me. He was right. Without my demon magic, I’d be dead a few times over. So would Conor. It had saved my life and gotten me out of a lot of sticky situations. I glanced back at Conor, who moaned and stretched, slowly coming to.

  I didn’t want to lose my demon fire or my ability to see demon shadows. That magic had become part of me.

  Ashraith smirked and swiped at me with his claws. I blocked the blow with my blade and he recoiled from the obsidian.

  I wasn’t helpless without my demon magic. I didn’t want to be without it, but I was a witch. I could work on improving my spell casting. I could learn to be prepared and have more spells on hand.

  I would have to. Because Ashraith had to die or he would do more than kill me. He’d kill Conor, and then any witch he could get near. A demon in a physical body of his own was too dangerous for this world.

  He shot more magic at me and this time, I felt the blow in my chest. It slammed into me and I skidded backwards. The darkness began creeping in again.

  “See? You cannot beat me. You never could. You merely got lucky.” He licked his thin lips with a lizard-like tongue. “And now you’re mine.”

  I shook off the darkness that tried to surround me. I rushed forward, sword up, and swung it at his torso. He threw a magical spell at me that knocked me backward but not before the blade cut into his side. Black goo, not unlike the goop demons melted into, dripped out. It smelled of ichor and rotten meat.

  But the darkness came creeping back. So did the helplessness, swirling around me like a tornado of doubt.

  “Hey, demon guts.” In my periphery, I saw Conor in a fighting stance. He’d found my sword with its preternaturally sharp blade and he held it out ready to fight.

  Ashraith moved toward him. “I will let you watch your lover boy die first. And then I will kill you.” He twisted his fingers at me and my vision narrowed again, sound fading away.

  Then he rushed toward Conor. He threw some kind of spell but Conor opened his clenched fist and dropped his third and last shield charm. The shield flew up and whatever magic Ashraith had thrown hit it. Ashraith growled like an angry lion.

  I fought back the darkness.

  I wasn’t helpless. I had an obsidian sword in my hand. And I wasn’t alone. Conor was right there, fighting with me. Fighting for me.

  I closed my eyes as if I could squeeze out the dark and then ran toward Ashraith. He was throwing another spell at Conor and I caught him off guard. His long fingers danced around a ball of magic. I swung my blade at the back of his neck.

  The obsidian blade cut right through his throat. Black blood splattered on the wall and hit the magical shield. His head slid off his shoulders and hit the ground with a meaty thud. His body collapsed, the magic he’d been holding vanishing into the air.

  Just for good measure, I stabbed the obsidian blade through the demon’s heart. Black goo oozed up out of the wound. The body began to melt into the same goo almost instantly, a sure sign that he was really, truly dead.

  I collapsed to the ground and passed out.

  Chapter 24

  I awoke in a bed and for a panicked second, I thought I was back in the infirmary. Not that the infirmary was worse than, say, the morgue, but still. After everything I’d been through, I didn’t want to be stuck anywhere in the Magic Council’s clutches.

  I sat up, pushing back a blue and green tartan blanket. I vaguely recognized the room but from where, I couldn’t remember. I looked down to see that I was still wearing my own clothes: jeans and a t-shirt, what I’d been wearing when I fought Ashraith.

  When I killed Ashraith.

  That sick feeling I sometimes got when I was hungover—a mixture of regret and horror at the night before—hit me like a freight train. I tried to conjure demon fire. Nothing happened. I strained, pulling all of my energy into the spell, and dizziness washed over me.

  Shit. It was gone. My demon magic was gone.

  My throat closed up and tea
rs pricked at my eyes. I’d done the right thing in killing Ashraith but at one hell of a cost.

  And then a small blue spark flared to life in my palm.

  It wasn’t much but it was still there.

  Relief rushed over me so complete that my muscles relaxed. It wasn’t gone. I was just spent and exhausted.

  And then a new panic rose in me. Did that mean Ashraith wasn’t dead?

  He had to be. My clothes had little bits of black demon blood spattered all over them.

  I got up and left the room, peering down the hall. I was in Conor’s house, I realized. He’d brought me home. I could kiss him for that alone.

  Given the light coming through the windows, it was late morning, which meant I’d been out for a while.

  I headed downstairs to find Conor on the sofa. He stood when he saw me. He’d showered and his hair was still damp. He wore a thin t-shirt that hugged his muscles and jeans. It was a good look on him. “You’re up.”

  “How long was I out?” I asked, rubbing my temples. I had a massive headache, no doubt from a combination of exhaustion, dehydration, and magic over-use.

  “Ten hours.” I shot him a look. He shrugged. “I was letting you sleep. I figured you needed it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “The Council came to clean up the scene. I gave them a condensed version of what happened. They found the demon stone stained with blood and a dead man lying beside it. Looks like Jax helped sacrifice some poor innocent to bring Ashraith into the physical world. Got what he deserved, if you ask me.”

  I agreed. Jax hadn’t deserved to die like that but I wasn’t broken up about it. He’d been a fool to trust and help a demon.

  I went into the kitchen and helped myself to a glass of water, chugging it down and then pouring a second glass. “Ashraith is dead, right? We killed him?”

  Conor smiled at me. A small curl of his hair hung over one eye and he pushed it out of his face. “You killed Ashraith, actually. I’m really proud of you, Warren. You killed a demon in its own physical body even though it meant losing your magic.”

  I nearly choked on the water, spitting some out into the sink.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean it like that, like I’m glad you lost it.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Just that you kicked ass.”

  “Are you glad?” I put the glass down and met Conor’s deep blue eyes.

  He met mine and then looked away, clearly conflicted. “Part of me is. But I know you weren’t using it for evil. And you did use it to save my life.”

  “And my own life,” I pointed out.

  I met his eyes again. He was looking at me like he was in total awe. It was a strange feeling, but good strange. I stepped closer to him and I could feel the heat between us flicker like fire.

  I considered lying to him. I could let him think the demon magic really was gone and go back to how it was, hiding my power from him. I wouldn’t have to worry about him changing his mind and turning me in to the Council for a magic I didn’t ask for.

  But then I’d have to go back to deceiving him and avoiding him.

  He closed the space between us and put his arms around me. “Is this okay?”

  Gods, yes, it’s more than okay.

  I opened my mouth to say so but instead, I said, “I didn’t lose my magic.”

  His brow creased. I waited for him to pull away. Instead, he just said, “Really? That’s incredible.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I managed to conjure a very small ball of flame and held it up before blowing it out like a candle. “Can’t do much. Pretty sure that’s just because I’m still recovering.”

  Conor’s expression shifted and at first, I thought he was going to let go and push me away. But instead, his face softened and bent toward mine. “You’re kind of a bad ass, you know that, Warren?” His voice was low.

  “You’re not so bad in a fight yourself.”

  He pressed his lips against mine. The rest of the world disappeared, but this time, in a good way.

  The End

  Thank you for reading!

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  Also by Tori Centanni

  Risky Magic: A Trash Witch Novel

  Brimstone Magic

  Demon Fire (Book 1)

  Demon Shadow (Book 2)

  Demon Rogue (Book 3)

  Demon Magic (Book 4)

  Demon Fate (Book 5)

  The Henri Dunn Series

  Being mortal is a pain in the neck

  The Immortality Cure (Book 1)

  Bloodless (Book 2)

  Sanguinity (Book 3)

  The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles

  Moon Cursed (Book 1)

  Wicked Moon (Book 2)

  Moon Bound (Book 3)

  About the Author

  Tori Centanni is a nerd girl and recovering goth who lives in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her two cats, Billy and Locke. When she’s not writing or reading through her never-ending book pile, she spends her time watching competition reality shows and attempting to bake things she has no business baking.

  toricentanni.com