“You let them go.” Jasynta let her gaze sweep over the witches, and Blake. “All of them,” she said emphatically.
“And—you will do everything and anything I want?”
“Yes.”
“Deal!” Deviazel clapped happily and sprang off his throne to shake Jasynta's hand. “It's a pleasure doing business with you. Here's to a rich and rewarding relationship! All riches and rewards belonging to me, of course.” Flames issued from their joined hands as he pumped Jasynta's hand up and down in a blur. When he released her hand, Jasynta lifted her hand to stare at it, but her hand was fine. It wasn't scorched or charred at all.
“I love a soul who is willing and able to do a demon's bidding. I stress, willing and able. These poor wretches were neither.” Prince Deviazel walked with a spring in his step towards the twelve shackled witches. “They were level one witches, level two at most. Even draining all their magick wasn't enough to power just one demonic magick. My court mages said their low level magick wouldn't help my army much—and they were right. General Bedeus just told me that Prince Zorath has managed to repel my forces. Sheesh.”
Prince Deviazel shot the witches a look of disdain. “And it seems that most of them haven't exercised and practiced their magick in a while. They've let their powers languish and weaken with their minds and bodies. And they can't even withstand a little torture,” he sniffed. “Quite a few of them were on the verge of a stroke or a heart attack, and my guards had to desist for a while.” He tut-tutted loudly and grumbled, “They sure don't make them like they used to.”
Blake whirled round, his grasp still locked on the demon guard's throat.
“What are you doing, Jasynta?” he demanded, his fist clenching even tighter around the demon's neck.
She couldn't meet his eyes, so chose to glare at Deviazel instead.
“Aren't you going to release them?” She narrowed her eyes.
Deviazel looked bewildered. “Who?”
Jasynta gaped and flung out her arm to point at the witches who were still in their shackles. “Release them, and...him.” She jerked her head in Blake's direction. At her words, there was a sharp crack behind her. She turned round to see Blake's knuckles gleaming white as the demon slid from his fist, his neck snapped from his spine.
“Oh. Now why didn't you say so? Women all think we can read their minds,” Deviazel grumbled. “Be specific. Just tell us what you want, without you know, all the hysterics and drama.” Rolling his eyes, he raised his hands to wiggle all his claws at the side of his horns.
Jasynta took a step back and suppressed a shudder. Man, did this demon have issues.
Jasynta felt a hand on her arm. “Jasynta!” Blake turned her around fiercely, forcing her to face him. “You...you can't do this!”
“Yes I can. There are two things you came to do,” she reminded him, meeting his eyes resolutely. “One, rescue the witches. So, get them out of here. And once you get out, do the second thing you came to do. Destroy the Moon Flower. Close the Gateway.”
“No!” His eyes went wide. “No, Jasynta, this is not...”
She turned away. “Go, Blake. Go now!”
His fingers dug into her arm, but she refused to look at him. She couldn't. Seeing the pain and anger in his eyes was hard enough. She didn't know if she could stand seeing him leave with all the witches. It would be the last time she saw him, she knew. She would be left with only the memory of him to keep her sane and strong, while she became Deviazel's slave for all eternity, performing all sorts of dark magick to help Deviazel win his war against Zorath and amass more power over his realm and others.
“I will not let you do this!”
“Let me?” Irritation flared in her. “I don't need your permission to do this. Who are you to...”
Blake's eyes flashed as he told her in no uncertain terms, “You. Are. My. Mate.”
Jasynta gasped as he shoved her protectively and possessively behind him, and strode towards Deviazel. “Take me. Let them go. Let all the witches go, and take me instead. I will serve in your army, and fight for you. You've seen what I can do. My strength and my prowess will be yours to use.”
At this, Deviazel smiled, showing just a hint of fangs. “Yes, indeed. I have had a tantalizing glimpse of what you can do. And in my hands, you will do so much more.” His smile was completely cool, cunning and calculating. “And I must say that having a bear warrior beats having a witch. Their prophecies and powers tend to undo you in the end, a la Macbeth,” he said wryly as he rubbed his chin.
Gone was the temperamental, effusive and eccentric persona. Instead, Jasynta saw a cruel, crafty demon prince staring down at Blake, his eyes and throne glinting coldly as screaming, scorching flames danced behind him.
A powerful bear-shifter in his army, in his control.
Blake would become his weapon, a terrible, monstrous weapon. With his maddened power and strength, he could inflict unspeakable damage and destruction, destroying his mind and soul in the process.
“No, Blake!” Jasynta flew forward, but Blake held out his arm to push her back.
“Take me, Deviazel,” Blake said through clenched teeth. “Make me your soldier.”
Deviazel's red eyes glittered as if eying a priceless, highly coveted prize. “And you'll be loyal to me?”
“I will serve you.”
But I will never be loyal to you.
Deviazel smiled, hearing his unspoken words loud and clear. “We'll see about that. Everything can be arranged, to everyone's satisfaction.” His forked tongue flicked out to lick his lips.
“All right, then. You sure drive a hard bargain, bear.” Deviazel blew out a breath of smoke and stood up. “You stay, and the rest can leave.”
“No! No, we had a deal!” Jasynta shrieked. “We shook on it! You can't...”
“Oh, right, I forgot about that.” Deviazel scooted to her and clasped her hand. Shaking it quickly, he declared with a flourish as he dropped her smoking hand, “There! No smoke without fire, but with fire and smoke, the deal is off. We've just unshaken it. Off you go now.” He made a shooing motion with his hands.
“No! You said you'll let him go!” Jasynta shouted, her eyes darting between the whistling demon prince and Blake. “You can't...”
“He remains in my realm of his own free will. He is a willing soul. I force no one to stay.” Deviazel's voice was a million voices speaking at once. The fires around them turned blinding white, as the demon prince rounded on Jasynta. “Now go!”
When Deviazel raised an arm, the shackles fell off the witches and the chain rippled into a long, slithering snake. The witches screamed as the snake slid around their ankles, hissing and rearing up to bare its fangs at them.
The blinding hot flames parted to reveal a tunnel. Deviazel snapped his fingers and the huge snake slid swiftly through the throng of screaming witches. Using its long body, it cordoned Jasynta and the witches off from the demons and Blake, and swept them towards the tunnel.
Deviazel no longer concerned himself with the fleeing witches and turned his rapt, greedy attention to his latest acquisition. As Jasynta was flung through the churning tunnel by one powerful flick of the giant snake's tail, she heard the echo of Deviazel's command, “Get me the Head Succubus. Before my sigil is branded onto his back, he needs to meet Hellizendra. Just one night with Hellizendra...”
Cackling, mocking demonic laughter chased Jasynta and the witches through the tunnel. Jasynta's agonized scream was choked off by cold, fresh air gushing into her lungs. Air? No, no!
“Blake!” she screamed at last as she hurtled through the Gateway and out of Prince Deviazel's realm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With a big, burping sound, the Gateway spat all the witches out. The shrieking witches sailed out of the mouth of the volcano, the silhouettes flailing across the bright, round moon that was hovering so close to the peak of the volcano. Yelling and making various ungainly and ungraceful sounds of shock and fright, they landed unceremoniously on the h
ard, volcanic slope. Scrabbling and sliding, they all managed to gain their balance and foothold, stretching out helping hands to one another.
“Are you all right?”
“Hold on!”
“Don't worry, I got you...”
“You okay?”
A dozen voices were speaking at once, breathless with exertion and relief. They were made it out of hell. They had survived their ordeal, and they were all okay. Drained of what little powers they had, tortured, starved and abused—but okay. They had made it out. They were going to make it home.
“Are you okay?” a shivering, quiet voice asked beside her.
Jasynta didn't answer. She couldn't.
She was not okay.
She had left Blake behind. In hell. To have his goodness and his soul crushed by Deviazel.
She scrambled up without bothering to brush the dirt off her hands and knees. “We need a Homing spell,” she announced curtly to the murmuring band of witches. She could get herself home, to her safe, warm kitchen where her family was no doubt waiting anxiously for her return. But that wasn't where she needed to go. Right now, she had to get the cavalry. She had to get Blake out of hell.
Standing tall on the steep slope of the volcano, she said, “Can we get ourselves to the PAC Headquarters?”
The witches started talking at once, discussing their options and capabilities. At last, a black-haired witch wearing the cashier uniform of a large, local discount store stood up and said, “I think I can do it. I work at the city branch of ShopS-Mart, which is across the street from the PAC Headquarters. I use a Homing spell to get to work on days when...my alarm clock forgets to ring.”
“You hit the snooze button,” someone smart-mouthed.
“Ah yes, the forgetful clock. I think we all have one of those.”
The witch made a face at the chuckling witches, but Jasynta was already picking her way to the witch. “Do it!” Jasynta said breathlessly. “Get us home!” Jasynta grabbed her hand. “Please.”
The witch nodded shakily. “I...I'll try.”
“You must.” Jasynta's eyes shone. “I have to save him!”
The other witches heard the urgency and desperation in her voice and immediately began to make their way towards Jasynta. Without further prompting, they stood in a circle and stretched out their hands to one another. One by one, they linked hands until they formed a complete circle of thirteen witches. They clasped each other's hands tightly for support, strength and power. They were bruised and battered, but they were not broken. One of their own was battling for her love, and they would do all they could to aid her.
At last, they were ready.
Thirteen witches under a full moon. Faces upturned, eyes bright, hearts staunch.
As the black-haired witch focused her sight on her destination, the other witches channeled all the energy they could muster to her, lending her their powers and their magick. They would get home together, in an unbreakable, unwavering circle.
Their combined magick swirled round the circle of witches, weaving between their bodies as their chanting escalated. The full moon increased the witches' magick, empowering them and super-sizing their magick. Their spell worked like a charm.
Colorful sparks popped and crackled all over the witches. In a dizzying whoosh, the giddy, gasping witches felt the ground rip away from beneath their feet. They convulsed and collapsed, leaning and falling like a circle of dominoes.
Jasynta fought down her nausea, and pushed herself up shakily. Scrambling up, she saw that they were right in front of the entrance to ShopS-Mart. ShopS-Mart was open twenty-four hours, and late night shoppers with trolleys and bags let out startled cries as they tripped over the circle of wounded witches that had just materialized in the middle of a busy walkway. Bags were dropped and frantic calls were made as passers-by hurried to help the shivering, groaning witches up.
“We need an ambulance!”
“I've called the hospital...”
“They're injured—and dehydrated...”
“I've called the police and the fire department!”
The fire department? For their dehydration maybe?
Jasynta shook her head hard to clear it. As a crowd gathered around the exhausted witches, Jasynta was already halfway across the street, dodging honking vehicles and irate cab drivers.
She burst through the revolving doors of the PAC Headquarters and ran past the reception counter. She started when she saw Neelith, the daytime receptionist at the counter. Backpedaling, she skidded to a stop at the reception counter, panting and swallowing.
Neelith looked up in surprise, as she finished typing in her password and logging out of the computer system. “Oh, hi Jasynta, I'm doing overtime today. Stanley called to say he'll be in later.” The demoness straightened up and adjusted her halter top, tugging the plunging neckline further down to reveal more of those seductively winking scales on her bosom. “I'm just knocking off.”
Jasynta blinked at her, her mind whirling. “You...y-you are a succubus,” she managed at last.
Neelith frowned. “Yeah. Everyone knows that. So?”
“Do you know who the Head Succubus is?”
Neelith hiked a bare shoulder. “You mean who they are. There are Head Succubi in every court and kingdom, so...”
“In Prince Deviazel's kingdom,” Jasynta interjected.
“Oh, you mean Hellizendra.” Neelith's eyes rounded in awe. “She's like...so cool! She's...awesomesauce!” Neelith let out a fan-girl squeal. “She holds the record you know. No one can beat her. And no male can escape her. She's like...irresistible!”
Jasynta tasted ashes on her tongue. But that could be from her screaming, gasping tumble through Prince Deviazel's windswept tunnel that was teeming with dust, ashes and dead things. “What do you mean...irresistible?” Part of Jasynta didn't want to know.
“Hello? She's a succubus.” Neelith waved a hand in front of Jasynta's face. “What do succubi do?”
“They seduce.”
“Yeah.” Neelith fished out her compact from her handbag and checked her makeup. “No male has ever escaped her. Once she sinks her claws and tongue into them, they're done for. She sucks out their souls, their essence, their will and power, and presents it to Prince Deviazel in a sulfur-scented bottle. She is Prince Deviazel's left hand woman. Other demon rulers have tried to headhunt her, offering her better working conditions and perks, but Prince Deviazel always manages to lure her back to his side.”
Neelith uncapped her lipstick and swiveled up what looked like a thick, magenta phallus. Applying a thick coat of color to her full lips, she pouted and sighed. “Hellizendra is one lucky bitch. She's highly valued by her employer, gets great perks and a grand title and position. She's richly rewarded for her talent. Unlike some of us, who have to work sucky day jobs to pay the rent.”
Jasynta wondered if working as a receptionist at the PAC Headquarters topped Neelith's list of sucky day jobs.
“I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a date. Stanley will be in soon. So toodle-oo!” Neelith blew her a kiss and shimmied out the door.
Jasynta forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath and pushed off from the reception counter. She could only hope against hope that Prince Deviazel hadn't summoned Hellizendra and sicced her on Blake.
Her fists were clammy and her legs wobbly as she fumbled to the lift lobby and stabbed viciously at the button.
“Come on, come on, come on!” She attacked the button again, pleading then cursing as the lift took its own sweet time to reach the ground floor.
The lift doors dinged open, and she collided into the smart, tailored suit of Dax Ferro.
The lawyer righted her swiftly, but his hand remained on her arm, steadying her.
“I...excuse me...I have...hurry!” she spluttered, lunging blindly into the lift.
His gray eyes saw her desperation and panic instantly. He stepped back into the lift with her, and pressed the button for the top floor, seeing her trembling han
ds fumble at the panel. “Come, I'll take you to Lucas. He should still be in the conference room.” As the doors closed, he said, “Breathe, Jasynta.”
She jerked. “How...”
“You're Melynda's sister.” He stated it as a fact, not a question.
“Yes.” She cast him a sidelong glance. Melynda often came home huffing and puffing about her boss. According to Melynda, Dax Ferro was a demanding, insufferable, overbearing taskmaster. She had heard of his reputation as a tough negotiator and lethal litigator. He protected his clients' interests fiercely and fearlessly. He was sharp, ruthless and relentless in going after what he wanted. And she knew that a man like Dax Ferro always got what he wanted—except...
Melynda?
Jasynta studied his handsome side profile and couldn't help her lips curving in a lopsided smile.
Still waters run deep, no?
Before she could say more, the lift doors slid open and Dax steered her gently but firmly down the corridor. “I just finished a meeting with Lucas, but I think he's still discussing some matters with the other Council members,” he informed her as he rapped smartly at the double doors of the conference room.
Pushing through the door, Dax nodded at the PAC members seated around the long conference room table and guided Jasynta into the room. “I believe Miss Morgan has urgent news for the Council.”
Stepping forward, Jasynta stared around the silent conference room, her chest and throat constricting at the circle of concerned faces. “Blake!” she blurted out. “Save Blake!”
Lucas shot to his feet, together with Jett and Keagan Slater, the weredragon Council member.
“Where is he?” Lucas demanded.
“He...went through the Gateway. Prince Deviazel has him, and he's going to make Blake fight for him against Zorath! He wants...”
The entire conference room erupted. The whole Council was up in arms. Through the flurry of raised voices, Jasynta gathered that Zorath had been keeping in touch with the Council, and the PAC knew of the dire developments in his kingdom. Her confirmation that Blake was indeed in Deviazel's clutches set battle plans swiftly into action.
Bear Mate: BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance Page 10