Ascension

by Felicity Heaton

  Witches attacked them but the other two men on his team handled them with ease, touching them and sending them to whatever dark place it was that they had some dominion over. It wasn’t death and it wasn’t the shadow world. These men weren’t strong enough for that sort of magic.

  Taig smiled, a small one that tugged at the corners of his lips and reflected his surety.

  He unleashed his power a touch, just enough for the three men to feel it. He wanted them to know who was stronger and in charge here. The way they were heading, it wouldn’t be long before they started getting ideas above their station, started trying to command him, and he would be dead before that happened.

  The male witch’s expression didn’t change.

  Taig released it a little more and then, with a smile, said, “Let’s make this fight more interesting, eh?”

  The man frowned.

  Taig stared deep into his eyes, focused all of his power on the barrier between worlds, between Earth and the shadows, and nudged it a little. It didn’t take much. Just a slight push in the right place. A demon way of shifting realities. A witch would go in head first, firing off their strongest spell to disrupt the worlds. All it took was a little poke in a weak spot and it tipped them off balance.

  The already dimly lit open area grew darker, the shadows distorting and the air turning so cold that the witch’s breath was visible. Taig continued to smile. The witch started to look nervous. His eyes left Taig’s, darting around at the encroaching shadows that shifted and moved, contorting into new shapes that had long broken claws and fractured bodies.

  The male witch backed away a step and cast a glance at his two companions. Their faces no longer spoke of confidence. Emotions skittered across them one after another, a shifting wave of fear and awe.

  Taig grinned and folded his arms across his chest, causing the black t-shirt he wore to stretch tight over bunched muscles.

  They were impressed.

  “Taig!” A sharp voice rang out across the ever-darkening room.

  Taig winced and cautiously looked across it at Lealandra.

  She wasn’t.

  With a cheeky smile and shrug of his shoulders, he healed the breach between worlds and gave her his best innocent look.

  “Not the time for games,” she said and then her anger shattered, a small but relieving smile briefly touching her lips, “but you can show me how to do that later.”

  Maybe she was impressed. It wasn’t every day that someone brought the shadow world to this one. Normally people sent their victim there and normally it took a lot of power to do so. He preferred to take the less draining route of bringing the shadows to him. Once here, brought by him, they would obey a command in the hope of a chance to taste human flesh.

  The room brightened as the shadows melted away.

  The three witches in his escort still looked wary. Good. Maybe now they wouldn’t piss him off as much. Although, he had been in a foul mood since teleporting Lealandra into this situation. They had geared up back at his place, both dressing in their usual black but this time both choosing tight jeans and a black t-shirt, fighting clothes, and had brought guns with them as back up should they expend all of their power. He had dropped Lealandra right where she had wanted to be, although it had been by chance. He didn’t know where Isabelle’s place was in the building so had been forced to rely on guidance from Lealandra’s power. She worked pretty good as a navigation system. They had landed right on Isabelle’s couch, smashing it to pieces and sending Isabelle flying across the room. Several other witches had been present. It hadn’t taken long for more to come, called telepathically by Isabelle. Now they were here, in what looked like some sort of open living area, a gathering place for the witches in the building.

  A scream off to his left caught his attention and his head snapped around. Isabelle was clutching her arm, another female witch with long curly brown hair helping her move back from the frontline of Lealandra’s fight. Isabelle had been radiating waves of fear since they had come crashing into her apartment. The girl was a liability—too weak to fight in this level of battle and too much of a distraction for Lealandra.

  Taig leapt over another of the broken red couches, sidestepped around a long low wall with smashed potted plants on it, and came up beside Lealandra’s group. He launched an arm out at a female witch as she appeared out of nowhere right beside him, her hands raised ready to cast a spell, and backhanded her across the face, sending her to the ground. One of the men behind him took care of her. He continued on, determined to remain close to Lealandra now so she would be more relaxed. He would protect anyone who Lealandra desired him to, anyone who would set her mind at ease, but ultimately he would sacrifice everyone for her safety.

  Two male witches appeared in front of him. One grabbed him before he could react and the other hit him solidly across the jaw. Taig growled and yanked his arm free, throwing the first man into the second. His three witches moved forwards to fight the others that were surrounding them. A spell hit Taig hard in the gut and sapped the strength from him, making his stomach turn and his head spin. These witches were stronger.

  The one further away unleashed a barrage of spells, glowing green orbs that were small and fast, hard to dodge. Taig did his best, stepping left and then right, ducking and leaping, and twisting in mid-air to avoid them, but they were faster than he was. The first hit him in the shoulder, sending him turning the other way, and then two more hit him on the right side of his ribs and his right thigh. The drain on his power was tremendous. He growled and his shoulders ached, his wings ready to come out and his demon itching for freedom. He held it inside, determined to save it, to store up his anger until bursting point and unleash it on the strongest witches they were yet to face. Somewhere above them, Gregori waited. Taig was waiting for them too. Gregori’s party would have the pleasure of facing him while he was in his true form, and he would rip them to shreds.

  Taig hit the floor. The three witches serving as his escort crowded him, fending off the enemy with magic that made the air smell of sulphur. Hell. It smelt like the underworld. He knew that smell, knew the heat of the world below his feet. His world.

  No. He pushed himself up onto his feet. His demon shifted below the surface of his skin, one with him, fighting with him at last, not against him. He smiled ruefully. It never had been against him. He had been the one who had fought all this time, battling against it, his true nature. His demon blood gave him the strength to protect those he loved, and he was finally thankful for it, not ashamed of it. He was a demon and he belonged in this world with Lealandra—with the woman he loved.

  With a roar, he flexed his fingers, his dark brown scaly claws shredding his skin. His hands grew, the skin on them peeling away to reveal the thick ridges of his real fingers, of the demon he was.

  Lealandra blasted one of the witches away, sending him flying through a window. The glass exploded outwards and a cold wind gusted in, bringing the smell of earth. It was raining somewhere.

  Taig grabbed the other witch around his throat, hauled him off the floor, and throttled him. The witch’s eyes bulged, his face turning red. The three witches with Taig moved off to handle the few remaining enemies on the floor with them. Taig closed his fingers tighter around the man’s throat, until he clutched at his hand, desperately trying to prise it off him. Taig stared into his eyes.

  “You chose the wrong bloke to attack,” Taig said and tightened his grip, until the witch’s feet jerked and he went still, and then dropped him.

  “Taig,” Lealandra said and he was by her side in an instant. He frowned at her cut face, the smooth paleness of it marred by nasty dark bruises and red streaks. Strands of her black hair had fallen down from her long ponytail. He swept them back out of her face and then she smiled at him when he lightly wiped away the blood that had dripped down from a cut on her cheek. “You okay?”

  He smiled back at her, staring into her grey stormy eyes. “Am I okay? You need to see what you look like, sweet c
heeks.”

  “You could probably do with a mirror too.” She reached up and touched his jaw. It stung like a bitch. He brushed her hand away and rubbed the spot she had touched, feeling the blood and the gash there, and the angry bruise that was waiting to make itself known tomorrow. She was right, he probably did look like hell but it was worth it. It had been a long time since he had been part of a fight this big and it was stirring his blood and his lust for violence like nothing else before it.

  “We’re gonna need some serious victory sex after this one… although I might be a bit tired.” He grinned wide and imagined her taking care of him, riding him into oblivion just as he had dreamed of back in his apartment. They had done the slow and steady thing. Lealandra had shown him that she liked the rough stuff just as much as he did, and he did love it when she took command.

  “Taig!” Lealandra slapped his arm and pointedly glanced at the witches surrounding them. He shrugged. He didn’t care if they were listening. He probably wouldn’t care if some of them wanted to watch. Actually, he would. No one but him got to see Lealandra naked.

  “The floor’s clear,” one of his men said and Lealandra nodded. Her cheeks were scarlet, betraying the thoughts he could feel in her. Her power spoke clearly to his, as hungry as its owner and himself for the connection that came with sex.

  “Let’s move. We’ll go up via the emergency stairs. Half of you head that way.” She pointed to the far end of the room and then at the exit nearest them. “I’ll go this way.”

  Lealandra walked a short distance and then stopped and looked back at him. Taig nodded and signalled his men to follow him. He followed Lealandra to the exit. She didn’t need to ask him to go with her team. He wouldn’t leave her side now. He would keep his oath and protect her. The future she had talked to him about was one that he wanted too—taking her to a place where she could learn to be one with her power, marriage, and maybe one day in the future when they were ready to settle down there would even be little Lea’s running around. He wanted her and he was going to fight to be with her.

  They headed up the stairs as silently as possible. The cool air in the stairwell was musty and stale. Through it came a sense of power, a strength that flowed down from above. He stared up the centre of the stairwell. It wasn’t only power that he could feel.

  He was tired and so was everyone else. He could feel it now they were closer together, packed into the stairwell. The energy that had been there at the start had died away, their strength stolen by the fight and by seeing their friends fall at the hands of their enemy. Everyone was on the brink of collapse but they had to keep going. They couldn’t stop now. They weren’t only fighting for Lealandra’s survival. They were fighting for freedom, and to win that, they had to fight to the end.

  Lealandra threw a blast of energy at the door of the next floor. The two sides of the door ripped off their hinges and exploded into the room beyond. They suddenly shot to the side, as though they had met with resistance, and then a wave of incredible power hit Taig. Lealandra froze. The whole group right down the stairs became still, chilled by the strength of power washing over them.

  Taig stepped forwards past Lealandra.

  His eyes met the man’s who stood before him, only a short distance away, a dark figure against a backdrop of long windows and the silent world outside.

  Gregori.

  Taig smiled and clenched his fists.

  He was going to beat the crap out of him.

  CHAPTER 24

  Lealandra came to her senses the moment Gregori moved his arm around in a sweeping arc. Taig flew across the room, so fast he was only a blur, and slammed hard into the dark brown wall at the far end, creating an impact crater. Plaster rained down on him. Lealandra shot a glare at Gregori. He smiled at her.

  She clenched her fists.

  He looked better than he had the last time they had been here in this room, facing off against each other. His clothing was immaculate. The long black buttoned coat of his standing had never suited him better. It lent him a mysterious and dark air, one that enhanced the strong aura of power radiating from him, flowing across the room and winding itself around her like a poisonous snake.

  He was ready to strike.

  She wouldn’t let him get in the first punch. Every sense of preparation she felt in him was a mirror of what she felt in herself. Her body was tense, alert, her attention fixed solely on him so she could notice the split second he moved.

  Gregori stared at her, his hazel eyes impassive and emotionless, void of any feeling or any glimmer of intent.

  Lealandra stood her ground.

  Gregori didn’t frighten her anymore. Neither did his two supreme mages. They stood flanking him in the low-lit room. The dark brown walls sapped the light out of the place but didn’t hide that it still bore the scars of their previous battle, and it didn’t hide the group of witches stood off to her right, waiting for their master’s command to attack.

  Lealandra’s power spread through the vast room, sensing everything, mapping it out in preparation for the fight. The walls remained fractured in places and a lot of the furniture that had previously been in it was gone. Only a few scattered couches remained and some art on the rear wall. They had fixed the window. The closed broad mahogany double doors behind Gregori’s witches to her right hid the master suite from view but she could still sense the size and shape of it. Her magic sharpened until she could sense every fibre in the dark carpet and sense every twitch of Gregori’s body.

  Behind her, hearts beat in rapid unison. Fear crawled over her skin. Not her own but theirs. Most of the witches she had brought with her hadn’t faced someone as powerful as Gregori. Only a few of the necromancers that she had assigned to Taig had fought witches that were stronger than themselves, or fell creatures that could have killed them in the space of a heartbeat if they had wanted it.

  Creatures like Taig.

  Lealandra could sense that he was holding back. She had never noticed it before but now she did. She was more aware of everything about him and could sense that he wasn’t using his full strength, and he never had. He hadn’t even used it in his apartment when the two demons had broken in. Would he ever unleash such godlike power on Earth? It would be devastating.

  It would be more destructive than her most powerful spell, the one her magic had wanted her to release when she had last been here. He could level a city with his power, not just a few blocks.

  Lealandra stared at Gregori. Waiting. Gregori remained still, unwavering in his intent gaze and his focus. He had all of his power fixed on her. No one else in the room concerned him. Not even Taig.

  That was his first mistake.

  Taig hated it when someone ignored him in a fight.

  Dark power rippled through the room, sharp in its feeling and full of deadly intent. Lealandra’s magic whispered to her, making her further aware of Taig’s strength. It reached to him, drawn there, desiring his power, and she released it enough to make contact with Taig. Tendrils of her power entwined with his and the boost in her strength was tremendous. The magic rose inside her, spiralling through her body and her mind, suffusing every inch of her until she felt invincible.

  A blur shot past her and suddenly one of Gregori’s supreme mages was gone. A moment later, the window behind Gregori shattered. The same window Taig had smashed to save her.

  She didn’t look. Didn’t take her eyes off Gregori.

  She didn’t need to in order to know that Taig was evening the odds in his own way. He roared, disappeared, and reappeared right beside the other supreme mage.

  “Let’s dance, fancy man,” he said and then he was gone, and so was the other supreme mage.

  Gregori’s right hand shifted.

  Lealandra stepped forwards, disappeared and reappeared in front of him. She shot her hand out, grabbed him by the throat, and screamed as she hurled him around and sent him flying across the room. He smiled and disappeared. The room erupted into pandemonium as Gregori’s witches piled
forwards, rushing hers. The door at the other end of the room opened and the rest of her force came in. They had lost so many already and she knew that they would lose more before the end of the fight. The thought of them dying filled her heart with cold pain but it had been their decision to make and she had to accept that. It didn’t lessen the feeling of responsibility that pressed down on her.

  Spells hurtled past her, bright coloured flashes that punctuated the fight, filling the air with strange smells of fire and brimstone mixed with honey and other sweet things. Screams and cries filled the room and she blocked them out, focusing on her own fight so she would survive and be the victor.

  The other supreme mage reappeared, long dark blue coat shredded by the broken glass of the window. He shot a spell towards Lealandra. She raised her hand and deflected it towards the ceiling. The spot it struck turned dark and bulged downwards. The black shape moved and wriggled, as though something was growing inside it. They were playing with shadows.

  “Taig!” She unleashed a glowing red bolt of magic and blasted the supreme mage back out of the window, and then ran towards Gregori, away from the forming shadow.

  Taig whirled to face her, his hand clasped over the head of the other supreme mage. “Bit busy, sweet cheeks. Not a good time for telling me how much you love me.”

  He grinned at her, dragged his arm around, and smashed the mage into the floor, pinning him there by his face.

  Lealandra deflected every twisting blue orb of magic that Gregori threw at her, forcing him backwards towards the far wall where there was more space. She needed to keep her fight with him one on one and that meant keeping him away from the other end of the room near the master suite where everyone else was fighting.

  “We have a problem.” She ignored Taig’s attempt at humour. This definitely wasn’t the time she was going to choose to confess her feelings for him. Things weren’t that dire yet. She nodded behind her.