Spells & Ashes

by Kim Richardson

  “Manners, Demon,” I said, shaking my head. “Or does that not exist in the shithole you crawled out of?”

  Vargal pinned his eyes on me, his lips moving, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “Let Colin go,” I said again, pulling on the power of my rings and feeling them pulse in answer. “I won’t ask you again.”

  Vargal’s gaze moved to my hands for a moment, and I thought I saw something flick behind his eyes, like recognition, before focusing back on me. The demon flashed me his teeth and said, “You didn’t say the magic word.”

  I cocked a brow. “Bite me.”

  Vargal gave me a pointed look. “Now who’s being rude? I’ve wasted enough time. On with the show.” The demon snapped his fingers.

  Trish’s back arched, and she let out a strangled cry. Then with an unnerving, wailing scream, she convulsed on the ground in the middle of the circle. Between screams I could hear her bones crack. At least, that’s what I thought the sound was.

  Before I could stop him, Kyllian charged and was met with an onslaught of ghouls, imps, and shadow demons. The ground shook as hundreds of demons rushed at the angel.

  The angel attacked with command and precision. A roar arose from the angel as he collided with the demons. A ghoul swung an axe at the angel. Kyllian parried and came up swinging. He disemboweled the ghoul, almost in passing, and moved on to the next one. He sliced and cut, his blade biting into the foul demon flesh and his eyes wild, hungry for their deaths. He kept moving, and the demons kept falling, but it failed to satiate the hunger in his eyes.

  Kyllian was an unstoppable machine. He cut them down, unthinking, unrepentant. He spun and lashed out, every strike hitting its mark. Every cut found its victim.

  But there were too many. For every demon Kyllian struck down, another took its place. They kept coming, enclosing him in a tight ring of putrid flesh, claws, and teeth.

  Kyllian cried out as a ghoul bit into the back of his neck. He reached over and slammed his fist into the ghoul’s head. It slammed to the ground, just as two imps crashed into him from the other side. Then another ghoul jumped him from the back.

  The angel staggered, his face twisting in pain as he fought the demons.

  “Screw this.” Logan shot forward.

  “You help him,” said Vargal, his tone casual like he was commenting on the fabric of his robe, but somehow it reverberated over the sounds of Kyllian’s cries and the shrieks of demons, “and the kid dies.”

  Vargal lifted Colin off the ground by the neck again. Colin kicked and hit at Vargal’s arm, trying to break free, but his face turned a dangerous shade of purple.

  Logan yelled out in frustration but stayed where he was. A pained expression marred his face as he watched Kyllian getting slashed and cut by imps and ghouls. The angel swayed on his feet.

  “One less angel in the world the better,” said Vargal.

  A wail of pure rage sliced across my mind. “Damn you! I’ll kill you!”

  Vargal cocked his head to the side, his red eyes on me. “You won’t.” He snapped his fingers again, and Trish let out another scream.

  She thrashed on the ground, her scream turning into a gargle as she began vomiting blood. I stood there helpless, watching the Greater demon torture an innocent woman.

  My plan had seriously gone down the crapper. It had gone so wrong, so quickly.

  “Stop it! You bastard!” I yelled, my own eyes burning at the pain I saw reflecting in Trish.

  Trish’s scream faded into a weeping, gurgling moan, and she fell to the earth, body curling into a shuddering fetal position.

  Vargal leaned over Trish, his free hand to his ear. “What was that? You want me to make the pain stop? Well, of course I will. You just have to agree to let me in. And the pain stops. I promise.”

  Trish’s eyes were wide as she stared at Vargal. Colin was held helplessly next to him, his face set like he was trying to pull some mind control on Vargal but failing miserably.

  “Say yes,” pushed the Greater demon. “And the pain will go away.”

  No. No. No. My heart throbbed. “Trish, don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t!” I felt a surge of raw panic, overwhelmed by the tremors of restless fear. I saw her lips move, but I couldn’t make out what she said.

  And I didn’t have to, judging by the winning smile on the Greater demon’s face when he pulled up.

  His red eyes met mine and he said, “Now, that’s a good girl.”

  There was a pulsing in the air, and Vargal’s red robe fell to the ground in a heap of fabric, like a discarded, old coat.

  Colin fell on his side, and I tensed at the sound of his head hitting the hard cement floor. His eyes closed, and an ugly bruise ringed his neck.

  Fear hit me. I stiffened in sudden panic.

  And then Trish stood up.

  26

  I stared at the woman standing before me in the stone circle. Dirt and blood stained her jeans and light gray top. She was tall, perhaps almost as tall as me, but where I lacked in curves and bust, she had plenty. Her face was hidden by strands of light brown hair that stuck to her sweaty face and rested just below her shoulders. At first glance, I’d think this was just a normal, average woman. But the black eyes that stared back were the complete opposite of normal or even human. Thousands of years of intelligence simmered in those black eyes.

  My breath slipped from me. Trish was gone. And now the bastard demon possessed her. It was over. We were screwed.

  Vargal-Trish lifted her wrists and the ropes that bound them and her ankles burst into clouds of ash and fell to the ground at her feet. “Much better,” she said, her voice a mix of rough lightness. The sweetness of her perfume gave way to a rotten meat stench.

  Blood ran from her mouth, and she licked it. She smiled at me, a twisted expression that was somehow wrong on her face.

  Shit. What do I do now? The question sent a shiver through me. Think, damn it. Think!

  Logan seemed to have a plan.

  There was a brush of air and the angel-born dashed for Vargal-Trish with supernatural speed, a soul blade in his hand. The look of disgust and utter hatred on his face was a clear indication that he was going to kill Trish to get to the demon inside.

  There was a peal of mocking laughter, and Vargal-Trish lifted her right hand.

  A furious blast of wind slammed into Logan, catching him in midair and driving him across the room into the wall with a horrible thud. His head snapped back in a whiplash of impact as he dropped his blade and slid to the ground.

  My stomach clenched at his tangled limbs. With my heart in my throat, my pulse was fast as I stared at his crumpled body. Get up, Logan.

  He didn’t move.

  Vargal-Trish took a deep breath and released it. I saw her other nature coming over her like a second skin. Her skin grew paler, and her face thinned, making her black eyes bulge and her jawbone and cheekbones protrude under a paper-thin layer of skin. Black talons sprouted from her fingers, long and sharp and deadly, and she waved them at me in a promise of pain.

  My gaze fell on Kyllian. The angel was still swinging his blade at the onslaught of demons. They hadn’t pulled him down yet, but the angel wouldn’t last forever, no matter how big and powerful he was. Sooner or later he would tire, and then his soul would be a nice juicy filet mignon for the demons.

  I’d had enough.

  I’m sorry, Trish.

  Fury surged through me, so scarlet and bright that I could hardly believe it was mine. I drew in my will, focusing it through the rings and into a sudden rage. I pulled everything I had left into taking that smug smile off of her pretty, false face.

  I released it.

  “Feurantis!” The word thundered from my lips.

  Twin fireballs lashed out of my palms and shot at Vargal-Trish.

  They hit.

  I straightened, expecting to hear screams and maybe even a little thrashing. Nothing. Just an eerie stillness.

  Vargal-Trish just stood there, her body aflam
e in sheets of fire. Yellow-and-orange flames reached high above her head, and still nothing. The Greater demon didn’t even move.

  And then with a hollow boom of displaced air, the fire disappeared. Vargal-Trish stood in the exact same place, unscathed, not a single burnt mark, not even one goddamn burnt hair.

  Her face creased into a wicked smile as she said, “My turn.” A dark glee simmered in the backs of her eyes, unholy and absolute. And then she raised her hand, sparks of black electrical current dancing along her fingers.

  Oh. Crap.

  These were the moments when it was perfectly acceptable to panic.

  So I did.

  Panic welled, and I pitched forward on the ground, knowing what would come. It hurt when my hip made contact with the concrete floor, but it was nothing compared to the pain that followed.

  The sharp strike through my body was like an electric shock. Believe what you hear. Being shocked hurts like hell.

  I screamed. And then I screamed again. A hideous, rushing force invaded my body. Every nerve in my body was alight with fire, scorching me from the inside. My stomach twisted, and I panted to keep from vomiting. The undulating surges of demonic power grew and grew until I felt like there’d be nothing left of me but my clothes. A band tightened around my chest and I couldn’t breathe. That, or all the air had disappeared.

  The Greater demon’s power pressed me down while I struggled and screamed uselessly, my mind too full of terror to focus or defend myself. The demonic magic burned through my clothes to my skin and my insides, sending searing pain screaming through my body and making me crumple to the ground in agony.

  The pain vanished, and I took a gasping breath.

  But I wasn’t going to lie there while Vargal-Trish attacked me with her tendrils of black demonic power.

  Jaw gritted, I reached out and pulled myself up. Anger growing, I straightened, reaching into my will and calling to my rings. Okay, so I hurt everywhere and felt like I’d fallen into a meat grinder, but I could still spindle some magic. I wouldn’t go down like coward. I was a Beaumont dark witch, damn it. We boiled cowards in our cauldrons.

  Vargal-Trish smiled at my obvious pain, ticking me off all the more. “You should know when to stay down, witch—”

  “Dis caeli!” I shouted and let out the pent-up wave of energy from the rings. A blast of kinetic energy pushed toward the Greater demon.

  But Vargal-Trish simply lifted a finger, and the kinetic force stopped in mid-push, like it had hit an invisible barrier.

  The Greater demon raised one eyebrow. “I can do this all night, little witch. But you can’t.”

  “Try me,” I snarled, feeling both brave and stupid all at once.

  Vargal-Trish’s mocking laughter rang out through the building. “Give up now, and die with the little shred of dignity left in your wasted witch body. Why are you resisting? Haven’t you had enough?”

  “Not even close,” I said, trying to match her smile but not feeling the muscles of my face at all. I might have grimaced instead.

  My eyes found Colin, and the kid was still lying on his side. Fear pulled at me. Please don’t be dead.

  “Then give it your best shot, little witch.” Vargal-Trish smiled, thinking she controlled me, and my anger hardened. She lifted her hands in a mock surrender, daring me to try and kill her.

  Okay, then.

  Heaps of anger replaced my fear and sanity, cementing in my gut. I pushed the magic from my will into my rings. It burned, but I held it, pulling more energy off the rings until my outspread hands felt like they were charring. Furious, I compressed the raw energy in my hands.

  If I couldn’t burn the Greater demon, I’d do the next best thing.

  “Gracis!” I cried, stumbling as I threw it at her.

  The rush of energy struck Vargal-Trish right in the chest, and she didn’t even try to deflect it. Which could only mean one of two things—one, she didn’t move because I’d been too quick, or two, she didn’t move because she knew it would have no effect. Given that I was about to die, I hoped for the first option.

  Vargal-Trish’s body began to fossilize, and then a thin coat of ice spread over her chest and neck until it reached her head and began to cover her face.

  And just when I thought it had worked, the ice shattered and fell into a puddle of water around Vargal-Trish’s feet.

  Double crap.

  “A cute trick, little witch,” purred the Greater demon, his face creased in amusement. “I’ll give you points for ingenuity, but you fail in strength. Without strength, you have nothing. Whereas I am strength and power and darkness. But, I am less disposed to tolerate the stupidity behind these mindless provocations. Child of the lesser demons, I will destroy you tonight.”

  With a flick of her wrist, Vargal-Trish sent a volley of black tendrils at me.

  Shit. I barely had time to brace myself as they hit. And hit was an understatement.

  The pain struck like hammers at my head and body while I screamed against it. Excruciating pain surged and then nothing.

  I blinked through tears and saw a smiling Vargal-Trish. She didn’t want to kill me just yet. She was playing with me, like a cat plays with a mouse until it eventually dies. Swell.

  And suddenly I felt very stupid. What the hell had I been thinking? A Greater demon, even the least of them, had demonic powers, something that was simply out of the league of any witch.

  Vargal-Trish stared at my hands, and I didn’t like the smile materializing. “I know what you are, Samantha Beaumont. I’ve always known.”

  “Really?” I hedged uneasily. “What’s that? The witch who’s going to kick your ass?” Okay, I was asking for it, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Vargal-Trish’s eyes twitched, and then a ball of black death hurled my way.

  It was pointless to move or even try to save my ass with a shield. It was too damn fast. Too damn powerful.

  It struck. The blow drove me back, and I crashed to the ground. My vision blurred with scarlet and black. Is it possible to hurt everywhere? I did.

  Still, this time I knew there was no getting better from this. No healing amulet, sigil, or ring could mend me. This time the pain settled deep inside my core and stayed there.

  I’d really done it this time. This time, I wasn’t getting out alive.

  I took the pain, the fear, the anger, and willed myself to my knees. Like hell was I going to die on the ground like some beaten-down animal. I would stare the demon in the face. That’s how we Beaumonts did it.

  Though right now there were two Vargal-Trishes. Shit, I was going to pass out. I took a deep breath, willing my eyes to focus until there was only one version of her.

  A wicked smile spread over Vargal-Trish’s gaunt face. “You were born on a blood moon on Hallows’ Eve, twenty-five years ago. A very rare thing indeed for a half-breed child to be born on such a night, one in a millennium, I believe.” Her smile widened. “And you never knew your mother because she died birthing you out. Didn’t she?”

  I started. My lips parted, and I felt as though she’d just hit me again with her dark energy. My heart thrashed madly against my chest until I thought it might explode through my rib cage.

  No. It couldn’t be. How could this demon know?

  “And,” continued the Greater demon, brows rising, seemingly enjoying what she saw on my face, “I know why your own father tossed you into the flames.”

  I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

  Vargal-Trish gave me a lazy, fiendish smile and said, “I know why your daddy tried to kill you.”

  27

  The world suddenly started to spin as the memories of that night, those seventeen years ago, starting flipping on the backs of my eyelids, like watching my own homemade movie.

  I’d only been eight years old then. Just a kid. And my own father had grabbed me and tossed me into the flames of the fire out in our backyard.

  I would have burned to death if it hadn’t been for my grandfather, who’d pulled
me out just in the nick of time. The pain of the burns came back to me. Burns were the worst kind of injuries you could suffer. Every nerve set off on fire, undulating scorching, the throbbing, the feeling of never being rid of the pain. I’d suffered second and third-degree burns to my hands and arms, but the burns were nothing to the suffering of knowing my father hated me to the point of wanting to burn me alive. No kid should have to go through that.

  But I did.

  It had changed me. Hardened me. It explained why I didn’t have a lot of friends and why I had trust issues. Having my father try to murder me would do that.

  Subconsciously, I stared at my hands, seeing the scarred tissue peeking from where I’d cut the fingers off from my gloves at the knuckles.

  If the Greater demon knew my secret, I was dead. Even if Vargal-Trish didn’t kill me, soon all the other demons would.

  “Baked like an overdone marshmallow,” sneered Vargal-Trish. “It’s why you wear those ridiculous gloves,” said the demon pointedly. “Not only to hide your true nature from the rest of us, but also to hide those hideous scars. What’s the matter? Too painful to look at?” She laughed, long and deep. “Face it. You killed your own mother. It’s no wonder your dear old papa hated you. And rightly so. You shouldn’t even exist. A freak of nature, that’s what you are.”

  “Bastard,” I snarled. I shook with barely contained rage. Any minute now I’d be foaming at the mouth.

  Pain that didn’t have anything to do with the Greater demon’s magic hit me hard in the heart, like someone had stabbed me with a soul blade.

  “Tell me,” inquired Vargal-Trish, “did it hurt when the flames ate at your flesh? More than the pain of your own father trying to kill you?”

  “Go to Hell.” My jaw was clenched, and my hands were fisted. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  The demon’s eyes widened. “Do you remember the stink of your own skin melting away? Tell me,” she said, and cocked her head, her black eyes gleaming with delight. “Did you like it?”