Spells & Ashes

by Kim Richardson

  And I, Samantha Beaumont, a simple, yet resourceful, dark witch, had done it—with the help of Poe’s magic, of course. I loved that bird.

  And through all those gratifying emotions, there was that nicking bit of fear that had settled deep in my core. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, it just kept growing until it tightened so hard it made me nauseated.

  My shoulders tightened with tension.

  My secret was out.

  How long would it take before another demon heard about what I had done? How many of those imps or ghouls or shadow demons had seen what I’d done before their bodies had been destroyed in this world only to return to the Netherworld to blab about my secret? Or maybe Logan would spill the beans to the angel-born community.

  I didn’t regret what I had done. I’d done it to save a life, many lives. Perhaps it was better this way. I didn’t have to hide my magic anymore or hide who I was. There was a deep sense of relief in that. A weight had been lifted. But it also meant I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

  Either way, it was out, and I couldn’t take it back. For me, there was only forward.

  “Stop here,” announced Kyllian to the cab driver, yanking me out of my thoughts.

  The cabbie stopped the car beside a large water fountain on Odin Boulevard, and we all clambered out. Kyllian paid the driver. I had no idea how he got his hands on human cash and I didn’t ask. I stood on the sidewalk with Poe perched on my arm and watched the cab drive off, turning back onto Doom Avenue before it was gone.

  Though Poe was technically a demon, he could go out during the daylight because of the shared magic between him and me. Being a witch’s familiar for thousands of years, through their shared magic and life energy, most familiars could stay in the mortal world indefinitely.

  The water fountain, the size of a small ten-by-ten pool, stood silently at the center of a small park, decorated with four stone benches and two crabapple trees. It was one of two in the entire district. Water poured silently into a shining pool in the display’s center, sparkling in the early morning sun.

  Kyllian turned to me. “Thanks for everything, Sam. I mean it. For picking up my drunk ass—”

  “Many, many times,” interrupted Poe, a smile in his tone.

  “Many times,” agreed Kyllian, looking slightly abashed. “You’re a great friend. A true friend. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.”

  My lips curved into a smile. “You’re welcome.” Damn, was he going to get all mushy? I didn’t do mushy.

  “And for tonight,” continued the big angel. “Tonight was quite the trip. It was great. It made me feel alive again. Well, you know what I mean. It made me realize a few things too, things I’d forgotten.” His gaze went past me. “I’m ready,” said Kyllian, his eyes on mine again and his face easing into a smile.

  “It’s about bloody time,” grumbled Poe.

  I knew exactly what he meant. “That’s great to hear. I’m happy for you, Kyllian.” I’d been worried about his overdue trip back home. He’d suffered many cuts and lost a lot of his angel essence last night. The only reason he’d lasted this long was because Faris had healed him with some demonic magic, and that had been a onetime deal. The angel’s hatred for the Legion was almost palpable, and I understood why he didn’t want to go back after the killings. He’d never forgiven himself. But he’d changed tonight. He’d fought the demons like a well-oiled machine, unstoppable with purpose and a fierce determination. And in doing so, the angel had helped save Trish and this world from an evil pagan god.

  The big angel moved toward the fountain and stepped into the pool. His face eased away the few wrinkles, as though he’d finally accepted his past as he knelt, the water coming up to his chest.

  The air moved behind me and then Logan appeared next to me. We stood side by side, watching in silence as the angel’s body began to glow with fluorescent, white light. With a final burst of light, Kyllian’s body disintegrated into millions of brilliant particles. The water shifted, and then the last of the angel’s brilliance melted into the water and disappeared.

  Kyllian was back in Horizon.

  “You think you’ll see him again,” asked Logan.

  I turned, only just noticing now how close we were. For some strange reason, I didn’t want to move away.

  I looked back at the water before my face betrayed me. “I’m sure I will.” I didn’t know how, but somehow I just knew I’d see the big angel again.

  I stood in silence for as long as I could before it became awkward. “I think I’ll be going home now,” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence and looking up at the tall angel-born Operative. Poe shifted on my arm, sensing my unease. I wasn’t sure what to say to Logan. Thanks for tagging along? That didn’t seem sufficient enough.

  “Thanks for helping me.” Yada, yada, yada. “I don’t think I could have found Colin without you. Thank you for that. I really like that kid.”

  “Me too.” His face showed no emotion, but his eyes shone with something I didn’t understand. “I’ll walk you home.”

  My heart thrashed in my chest. “That’s not necessary. I just live five minutes away.” I’m a freaking dark witch who just killed a Greater demon. I can take care of myself. Who does he think he is?

  But my words fell on deaf ears. The angel-born had already turned away from the fountain and waited for me by the sidewalk.

  “I don’t think he heard you, Sam,” commented Poe, though I could hear the laughter in his tone.

  “Oh, he heard me.” But the question was, why did he want to walk me home? It didn’t make sense. No one walked a witch home. Most of the time, folks were too afraid to be spelled into the witch’s house, never to be seen again. I was certain it had something to do with the size of our cauldrons, but those were just rumors.

  I put my hand on my hip and frowned at Logan. “I guess you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

  Logan’s face crinkled into a smile. “No.”

  Damn. “Fine.” I walked past him, straining to keep my heart from pounding but failing miserably.

  “I’m going to stretch my wings,” said Poe suddenly, that same laughter in his voice as he took off into the early morning sky.

  My frown deepened.

  We walked side by side in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I didn’t even remember how I got to my house until it came into view. The sun hit the side of the brownstone, bathing it in gold. Poe was perched on the metal stair railing, pulling at a small, furry bundle in his claws and then eating it. Yikes. I didn’t want to know what that was.

  The thought of my glorious bed had me sighing in anticipation and I nearly moaned. God, I was tired.

  “Well, I’m home,” I said and spun around to face the angel-born. I clicked my heels together like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I didn’t know why I did that.

  The angel-born looked good standing there, even with his hair all disheveled and dirty. “Thanks for walking me home,” I continued, not knowing what else to say. “Though it really wasn’t necessary.”

  Logan opened his mouth to say something, but behind me, the sound of a door opening and closing got in the way.

  I turned to see a man, no, not a man, but a vampire by the smell of old blood on him, step out from Vera’s front door. He was tall and fair and deliciously handsome. Broad shoulders were tailored expertly into an expensive-looking gray suit. His face had that eerie beauty all vampires held—just too perfect, too beautiful, unnatural. He looked to be in his late forties, but with vampires, it was really hard to guess their real ages. He might be over one hundred years old, for all I knew. But oh, I knew. And he was sneaking out of her home, just after sunrise.

  Naughty, naughty Vera. You like to play with vampires, eh? Now I know your secret.

  The vampire walked by me and winked, amusement dancing in his light eyes. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. Move along... move along.

  “You know him?” inquired Logan as h
e watched the vampire strolling away, a curious expression on his face.

  “Never seen him before.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  Right. I pulled my face into what I hoped was a neutral expression. “Long story.”

  “I’ve got time,” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets, a smile twitching on his lips. “I happen to like long stories.”

  O-o-o-kay. “Maybe some other time.” Which I seriously doubted would ever happen. Why did he have to look so damn hot standing there? “Right now, I’ve got a date with my bed.”

  Logan’s dark eyes met mine, and he searched my face, saying nothing. Crap. What was he doing?

  I froze when he eased forward. Before this awkward situation became an even worse one—like he was reaching out for a hug—I stuck out my hand.

  “I guess this is goodbye, huh?” I said, feeling like an idiot with my hand hanging in the air. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll see each other again.” I didn’t think we’d ever cross paths again. This had been a onetime only thing, yet I didn’t want it to be.

  Logan’s fabulous lips quirked, and he leaned forward, his eyes on my face... my cheeks... my lips.

  Oh. Shit. He’s going to kiss me.

  Heat flared from my neck to my face, and my muscles tensed. And at that split second when I thought he was going for my left cheek, I turned to make my cheek available—but overcompensated—and our lips met.

  Holy hell.

  I stiffened in surprise. His lips moved against mine, warm and soft, and I just stood there, my heart pounding as I kissed him back. His touch sent a spike of desire to my core. My pulse hammered and my knees wobbled. A prick raced over my skin like a shimmer of electricity, enticing, spinning a thrill through me from his lips all the way to my toes. A slip of tongue touched mine, and my pulse jumped.

  I pulled away before it turned passionate, which was clearly where it was going. A cool warmth took the place of his lips when I pulled away, my heart beating wildly. I flinched when I realized I had lifted my hands toward his waist and pulled them back to my sides. His breath came out in a slow exhalation that I mirrored.

  God help me. What the hell was that? I’d done my share of kissing men before, but I’d never felt weak in the knees—literally—after being kissed. That was Harlequin romance stuff, not real life.

  And yet, this had been one of the most exhilarating kisses I’d ever experienced. He was angel-born. What was wrong with me?

  Logan stood facing me, desire dancing in his eyes. Recovering smoothly, he leveled out his features and said, “Bye, Samantha,” and turned on his heel and walked away.

  My lips were still warm with the memory of his lips on mine. Neither of us had moved away to stop the kiss. We’d just stayed there, enjoying the moment.

  I stared at his tight behind as he walked away, appreciating the way his broad shoulders swayed. A mix of fear and exhilaration filled me from the undeniable fact that Logan hadn’t moved away and had liked that kiss we’d just shared.

  “You’re in trouble now,” said Poe, between chews.

  “Yes,” I answered, my eyes on Logan and finding that I couldn’t take them off him. “I’m in serious trouble.”

  CHARMS & DEMONS

  Click here to grab your pre-order copy of CHARMS & DEMONS!

  DARK HUNT

  1

  The demon smiled at me seductively. It wore the guise of a man, a very handsome one, with a chiseled jaw, straight nose and perfect hair. His lips curled toward his eyes, making his whole face shine—the face of an Armani model. It was no surprise with a face like that, and wearing a suit that promised tight, rippling muscles, women were following it like a blowout sale at BCBG.

  But I was no ordinary woman.

  Its black eyes were like bottomless pits, promising eternal agony, and it sent anger shooting through me. God, I hated demons. Especially the ones that preyed and fed on human souls. I’d been tracking it for two days now, following the death trail of single women in its wake. All the victims were found naked in hotel beds without any signs of struggle or indication of how they’d died. They all shared the same strange smile on their faces, a smile of pure bliss. But with one look at the bodies, their emaciated skin and lacking any echoes of their life-force, I knew what had killed them and what it had taken—their souls.

  We were dealing with an incubus. The sex demon possessed the power to lure women to bed with it, promising endless pleasure, only to end up dead and their souls taken.

  The New York City Police Department was looking for a serial killer—a human killer—and that had been their first mistake. But most humans didn’t know what dangers lurked in the night, the demons and monsters that crawled through the Veil into our world from the Netherworld to feed.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. It was trying to pull a charm on me. I felt its demon magic lace up my spine, warm and inviting, caressing me like the touch of a man’s hands over my skin. My face was impassive, but anger burned within me, like the summoning of fire.

  As a Hunter, tracking down and killing demons, along with all the other creatures that went bump in the night, was my usual line of work. It took a creature to catch a creature.

  I’d been hired by Father Thomas, one of Thornville’s local priests, for this job. Father Thomas was a modern-day Templar Knight, waging a secret war against the church’s enemies—demons and half-breeds—which the church hid from the public.

  Killing the incubus while inside the bar wasn’t the best idea. I needed somewhere dark, somewhere quiet.

  I smiled at the creature. The demon winked at me as it pushed itself from the bar and moved to the door, its every motion emanating a confident seductive grace. Then it slipped out of the Black Pony Irish Pub.

  It was cocky, and it wanted me to follow. Whether I’d been made or not didn’t matter. I gulped the last of my gin and tonic and followed it out.

  The streets were quieter than usual for a Friday night, and my boots clicked against the sidewalk as I followed the demon. It looked over its shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiled confidently as it saw me. I clenched my jaw and kept going.

  The demon was leading me straight to a small, decrepit building with its exterior walls painted in graffiti and conveniently placed only a block away from the pub. My gaze lingered on the red flashing sign that read Charms Motel. Damn. It was taking me to the motel. The priest wasn’t paying me enough for this crap.

  This is pathetic, I thought, eyeing the dingy motel. I was way too good for this, but I needed the money.

  The number seven was stenciled in black above the door. The demon pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and walked in.

  It left the door open for me, a silent invitation. I hesitated as I watched it stride across the room to stand next to the bed. It removed its jacket and stood facing me, its human muscles peeking through the low-cut shirt. Oh, it was cocky.

  Smiling, I walked in and closed the door behind me. No need to alert the neighbors. As I stood in the narrow room, I ran my gaze over the typical motel room—one double bed, striped beige and gray duvet with matching pillows and drapes, and tucked away towards the back was a single door, which I guessed was the bathroom.

  It smelled of old cigarettes and musk. My predatory instincts stirred as I felt another prickling of demonic magic tugging against my skin.

  It removed its white shirt effortlessly and tossed it in the nearby chair. “Come to bed, darling. Let me show you the pleasures you’ve never dreamed of. I know what you want. What all women want. I can give it to you.” The demon’s voice was low and seductive, like a lover’s purr. I wanted to vomit.

  “I doubt it.” I knew I was supposed to play along, but I couldn’t help it. I’d always hated handsome, overly confident men, who thought they could get women into bed with just a smile, a cheap meal, and lots of wine.

  The demon’s smile faltered just a little, its black eyes pinning me. “You’re afraid? Don’t be. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I
promise. Just relax.” It crossed the room and closed the distance between us.

  Close now, I could smell the mixture of sulfur and male musk. It was tall, taller than I’d expected, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

  It licked its lips as it lowered its head. I felt the same pulse of demonic magic coming from it, sending tendrils of pleasure over me. I smiled as its magic pulsed one last throb and then melted away, just like all demonic magic and hexes do whenever cast on me.

  It pulled its head back. I saw the flicker of annoyance and then recognition as it realized its demonic magic had no effect.

  “You,” it said, its black eyes widened. “I’ve heard of you. The rogue Hunter… the angel-born…”

  I flashed it my best smile. “That’s me.”

  I pulled my soul blade from my waist. The angelic blades were given to us from the angels, forged from celestial metal and light, and as hard as diamonds. I whipped my blade at the demon, but it jumped back, slipping past me like a shadow, the tip just missing its chest.

  I hissed as I missed and stumbled forward. It was faster than I’d anticipated. It moved like a cloak in the wind, dark as death and just as quick.

  I could see its true shape. Now that it had to concentrate all its magic on surviving, a human guise required too much energy. With its glamour gone, it was naked with the shape of a man, but bent forward with long arms that grazed the floor ending in claws and hooves for feet. Its skin was marred with sores and open wounds filled with yellow pus. Hatred and bloodlust burned in its black gaze. Its leathery face had inhuman curves that most closely resembled that of a large lizard as they were illuminated in the soft light of the motel room. It reeked of death, and the smell of carrion filled the air.

  “Damn,” I said as I shook my head. “If only the women could smell you and see what you truly look like, there’s no way in hell they’d sleep with you. You are one ugly mother—”

  It shot at me. I felt its cold and powerful demonic magic rise against me, but I never let it finish.