Beneath the Shadows of Evil... Treasured

by Jolynn Raymond

  Once his demon was in control, Mikhal was lost. She was too hot, too tight, her scent was all around him, her mark beneath his tongue, her body squirming, demanding more, his mate was calling to him with her own primal need and so he abandoned himself to his demon and drove into Alliana harder, driving her down into the bed, rotating his hips side to side each time their bodies came together, moving hard and fast over her clit as he thrust up into her sweet spot, making Alliana cry out her pleasure. Her hands came down upon his back, nails scratching like claws, her fierceness making his demon crazed. Mikhal felt his climax building, knew he couldn’t hold it back, his demon refusing denial.

  Mikhal snarled and proclaimed his possession, “Mine” right before he bit down upon his mark of claim with razor sharp fangs, making Alliana’s hot blood spill over his tongue, the potent coppery taste spurting into his mouth even as his seed spurt deep in her womb. He drank deeply of the sweet elixir and the pull of his mouth upon her neck combined with his hardness deep within her made her body spiral into orgasm, joining him in ecstasy. She clutched him to her, the tigress turning into a woman who needed to be held as she was lost by the sensations filling her. She needed his arms around her, his body upon her, his mouth drinking her blood, and his cock deep inside. She needed to be owned and possessed; to be claimed as his for eternity to defy Death who had dared to enter her world.

  Her body pulsed as he jerked inside her, his arms tightening as if to crush her as the last waves of his orgasm rippled through him. Then he slowed, his bite becoming little licks once more, licks that sent tiny shocks through her as she came back to earth, completely protected in the circle of him. Mikhal began a slow rocking movement, lapping at her mark of claim, whispering mine over and over, rejoicing in their coupling, in the knowledge that she was alive and well. She was his and never again would they be apart.

  Alliana mewled and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, her eyes closed, still floating. When his words turned into a contented purr she smiled and caressed his back, wiggling her hips under his, inviting him to take her again.

  He answered with little kisses upon her face, but they were gentle, both his demon and the man wishing to protect his mate. “We shall rest for a bit my sweet wanton wife. I’ll not have you become overtired.”

  His words were like a bucket of ice water splashing over her, the pain of losing Natalya coming to the forefront once more. She shivered and whimpered in distress. “Oh Mikhal, she’s gone. Natalya is truly gone. We couldn’t save her. I... Lucian. He...”

  “I know sweet. The hurt is great in both of you. I’m here now. We will mourn her together. I shall help Lucian too. Nothing can take away the pain, but I’m back now and will help your heart heal. You and Katia will stay safe. I swear it.”

  Mikhal hadn’t the means to keep death at bay if it came knocking in the form of this illness, but Katia might be able to find a spell, and barring that, he was going to make certain Alliana stayed rested, ate as she should, and was kept from all those who were sick.

  She opened her mouth to speak again, but Mikhal kissed her into silence. The distress upon her face told him of her fears and grief. No words were needed. Instead he held her tight and rolled onto his side, moving her with him, never breaking the kiss. She pulled her arms in and let herself be completely enclosed in the protective circle of his arms, his body surrounding her, protecting her from the harsh realities of the world. Mikhal reached and pulled up the furs, cocooning her beneath them as she nuzzled into him. He held her in the silent dark room placing soft kisses upon her head as she began to tremble and shed tears of grief.

  Mikhal let her cry, never trying to hush her. Her grief had to be spilled. There was no need for her to be strong anymore; he was here. Alliana cried her hot tears wetting his chest, the pain that was crushing her spilling out drop by drop. No tears could erase her grief, but the need to be the strong one, the one in charge who must help everyone at the castle was gone. Her husband was back and he would take on her burdens, and so she allowed herself to cry.

  When her tears were finally spent Alliana dozed in her dark world of comfort created by the man she loved. Mikhal knew he had to wake her to eat, but it seemed best to deprive her body to nurture her spirit for a time. In a while he would rise and summon food and a hot bath for Alliana. He would feed her and bathe her and put her back to bed. Yes he was worried about Katia, but she was nearly a woman grown, and he trusted her to come to him if she found a spell amid Marishka’s books to rid them of the sickness. This was time for her mother right now. He would do everything in his power to keep her body and spirit strong. Death would not take his mate.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Weary of paging through Marishka’s dusty books, Katia stood before her potion shelf, lamp held high, gazing at the multitude of earthen jars and glass bottles. Many were unmarked, but Katia recognized the herbs within. Sabina had schooled her well. It was the bottles that contained liquids and the ones that held crushed herbs that were a mystery. If there was a record of what was kept on the shelf, Katia hadn’t found it, and it would be foolish to attempt to discover what the contents were by tasting or touching let alone trying to use one in a potion. That left only her sense of smell to discover what might be on the shelf.

  Katia knew the herbs and potions were far too old regardless of whether she knew what they were, but still, they held such mystery. She picked up a small bottle that held something green, and wrinkled her nose as she looked at the thick moss colored contents. As she brought the bottle down, she was delighted to discover that it had markings in the wax that sealed the stopper. She rubbed at the dust to see them better, but then sighed in frustration. It was no use. Her aunt’s things had been left to collect dust and rot for close to fifteen years. Whatever markings were in the wax were blurred by the dirt caked in the crevasses.

  “This isn’t where the answers are. If I want to find something helpful, I need to really look at the books.” She went to one of the wardrobes and removed a chemise, then used it to rub the dirt from the binding of the books on the shelf. The dust rose, tickling her nose and making her sneeze, but her work did prove fruitful. She could read the lettering on the ones she had cleaned. Buoyed, she went to work cleaning the rest, making puffs of dust rise in the air. Katia wished she could add a bit of water to her make shift dust rag, but knew it might harm the delicate bindings, so made do with what she had. In the end her work proved sufficient enough to allow her to see just what was housed on the shelves of her evil aunt.

  Katia picked up the lamp then held it high as she ran her finger along the row of books, reading the titles if any were listed, pausing to read those written in a language she did not understand, then looking at them again, hoping for a clue. There were about eight in all, most thick, all brittle along their binding, half written in a scrawling hand, a few without titles, and the remainder ones she couldn’t read. She finally gave up and pulled one from the row, hoping for the best. Looking about for the best place to sit comfortably and read she shook her head in dismay. All about her was dirty, the room was dark and dank, the drapes and bedcover thick with dust, the fire that had been placed in the hearth burning low. She’d stood as she paged through the book upon the pillar, but she was weary of standing. Just before giving into the idea that the floor offered the best place to sit, Katia had a better idea. Natalya’s herb and potion kitchen, it would be perfect, and anyone who might object to her entering was too busy to even know.

  Natalya’s kitchen had bottles of herbs and potions that were labeled with tiny scrolls of parchment. It had plenty of lamps for light, was clean, and was far less creepy. It was almost as if Katia could feel her demented aunt and the Mage who had helped her work her spells and rituals all around her, and it was a feeling she could do without. Katia wasn’t skittish, but a clean, well-lit room that contained herbs and potions she could actually use was much better than a dirty, dank room full of evil spirits.

  Set on her course of action, Katia pulled
two more books from the shelf, and then made her way to the door, staggering a bit under the weight of the tomes in her arms. As long as Emillian didn’t catch sight of her, and she didn’t think he would, Natalya’s kitchen chamber wasn’t near the staircase to the great room or the rooms she shared with her husband, she’d be able to slip in unseen.

  Fate was on her side, allowing Katia to slip unseen to Natalya’s kitchen chamber, it smiled on her again when she found the door unlocked. She slipped inside, and then set her heavy load on the table, before going back and barring the door. The pale afternoon light streamed in through the partially open drapes. It appeared that whoever had gone about securing them had done a careless job. It was to her advantage though, so Katia didn’t give the window a second thought. Her papa was unlikely to come to her here.

  She hadn’t thought about the fact that Rowen or Thalia might come in to fix more elixir for those who were sick before deciding on her course of action, but if Rowen came, it wouldn’t matter overly much. She was a peasant woman who would never question Katia. Thalia was another matter though. Servant or no, Thalia would tell someone if she found Katia here. She was far too much in the know when it came to the actions of her family, but Katia knew she couldn’t worry about it now. She had work to do.

  The room was cold, but she didn’t want to take time to start a fire. Instead, she picked up the top book and went to the chair before the hearth. Lighting the lamp that sat upon the table, knowing it would grow dark outside as she read, then wrapping herself in the fur that had been thrown over the chair. Katia picked up the tome of spells and cuddled into the cushions to find answers to help the sick. She wasn’t a healer nor was she a midwife, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a spell that could save the dying. There was a good chance her mother would become ill as well, and Katia was going to be prepared if the worst happened. Magic had consequences, but she would not lose her maman, she’d do anything, no matter the cost to save her life.

  Katia went through the book page by page, finding spells for revenge, love, purification, empathy, for good deeds but more often for bad, and finally came to a section marked resurrection. It wasn’t what she had been looking for, raising the dead was not saving the living, and even without a warning, Katia was no fool. Resurrecting something dead was like stealing a soul from the devil. Evil would not look kindly on the theft.

  She dismissed it as useless, but was confronted with another when she turned the page, this one had notes scrawled on the side, words that were added after the spell had originally been written. She looked at the notes, brows drawn together in concentration, they were hard to decipher, but she made out the gist of it. Whoever had written the notes in the margin had marked this resurrection spell as useful for bringing a vampire back to life.

  Katia blinked, startled, she’d not known such a thing was possible. Well just because it was in a book didn’t actually make it possible, but still, either the Mage or her aunt had thought it had merit. Katia read through the entire spell, taking note of the things needed to cast it as well as the words. It seemed the spell was marked because of the power it held to make one’s vampire enemies weak by making them mortal again. The spell was not written as a thing of hope to restore life to the undead, but rather to maim one of their own kind by making him or her human again, and therefore weak.

  Katia thought about her parents and her Uncle Lucian, though it hadn’t been spoken of in her presence, Katia was sure the subject had come up about Natalya’s wishes in regards to becoming a creature of the night. Surely Lucian had wanted to turn her so she would be with him for eternity, but he hadn’t. Katia knew there was no certainty that the undead would be able to have compassion and love for humans. Her Aunt Marishka had been as evil as they come, and her own father had been worse before the empathy spell had been cast on him.

  Mikhalen was another example of how vampires had a powerful beast inside them. She knew of her brother’s struggles and why he’d left the castle and his family. Mikhalen wasn’t like their papa, though he was only half demon, he couldn’t control the dark part of him, and Natalya and her maman had to know they could become purely evil if turned, but what of her father?

  Did her papa know this spell existed? Most likely not, her Aunt Marishka was the one who loved the dark magicks, not her papa. Though the empathy spell had shown him the path to love, it had had consequences. When she was small and even now, her papa didn’t like to speak too much about her powers. He was glad she had them, it had helped to ensure their safety, but too many bitter memories of Marishka and her playing with the dark arts had left him sour, but what of this? What would he say if he knew he could become mortal once again?

  Katia dismissed the thought and turned the page, there wasn’t time to dwell on what ifs. She spent another hour or so going through the books, but found nothing useful. The spells within Marishka’s book were clearly meant to do harm, not help. Even the ones that could probably be changed to make them into something positive held very real danger. It simply wasn’t safe to call on the deities listed within the tomes.

  Katia rubbed the back of her neck to ease the muscles there and sighed with defeat. All that could be done was being done, the elixir, the cleansing of the air, burning the sulfur pots, the bloodletting, even charms and talismans. Everything known was being done already. If her maman did indeed become ill, Katia knew that they would be as helpless in saving her as they had been with Aunt Natalya. She closed the book and put it and the others she had looked through on the shelf where Natalya’s books were kept. Tears filled her eyes at the realization that her aunt would never seek information from her books again. She’d never mix a potion, never brew a tea, never fix a poultice, and never curl up in the chair by the fire. She was gone, and nothing could change that. Even the resurrection spell would be hard pressed to work now that Natalya had been buried in the cold ground.

  Fighting back the tears that filled her eyes, Katia ran her fingers lovingly over Natalya’s books one last time, then noticed that a few of the books weren’t perfectly placed. Knowing that any sign of her visit would lead to trouble, Katia tried to push them back so they were aligned with the others, but though she pressed on them, they only gave a bit. Something was preventing them from sitting flush upon the shelf like the others.

  She pulled them out, and looked at the books, seeing they weren’t overly large, then looked to the shelf and saw a rolled parchment hidden in the back. Katia’s eyebrows rose in surprise and she eagerly plucked the paper from its hiding place. She had a moments disquiet as she thought about the fact that Natalya had placed the parchment there to keep it secret, but then told herself that it could be something important. Leaving the bookshelf, she took the mysterious scroll to the chair she’d been in, unfastened the tie around it, and unfurled the paper, her eyes widening in shock when she began to read it.

  “This is the spell from Marishka’s book.” It was, and it wasn’t. Natalya had copied the spell, but had made changes. Katia remembered enough about the original to tell that at once. As she finished looking it over, she was certain that it was the same spell made different by the deities on whom the one performing it called to ask for help and power. Death was still included, but so were others who were less dangerous but just as powerful in the realm of white magick, and best of all, her Uncle Lucian’s name was written at the bottom with a question mark next to it, making it clear that Natalya had intended the spell for her mate, making Katia almost certain the spell would be safe and powerful. The question now was had she asked him if he’d wanted to become human?

  Katia rolled the parchment once more and tucked it into her sleeve, knowing she needed to put it someplace safe while she thought about its implications. What would her father think? Had he ever wished to be human like her maman? As a vampire he held nearly unlimited power, but as a human Lord he would hold almost as much, but that could change because of the war. Would he wish to grow old with her maman instead of staying young and eventually watc
hing her grow old and die? It was something she would have to ask him. The sickness had made them all think about death and immortality concerning themselves and those they loved.

  Knowing she needed a clear head to think, but also needing to put it all aside for a bit, Katia went to the window and drew the drape securely shut then brushed the dust of the day from her dress the best she could. It was time to find Emillian. She needed the comfort of his arms, and she needed to see her papa and maman. Though she must dash all hope and tell them of her defeat, they still had to know. She was powerful, very, very powerful, but illness and death held power too, one that couldn’t be held at bay. Katia just prayed her maman would stay healthy. The question of her papa’s humanity was secondary.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After Mikhal saw to it that his wife partook of some nourishment, he helped her to bathe and brush the tangles from her hair. All the while he eyed her critically for any hint of illness. Once they were done, he placed his lips to her brow one last time to check for a fever, then made certain she was tucked securely into their bed under a pile of furs, sleeping the deep sleep that only milk of poppy could provide to such a grieving soul.

  He’d sat by her bedside until she was soundly asleep, then sent for Thalia to take over his watch. No hint of a cough would pass her lips unnoticed. Alliana would be tended to night and day until they were certain she would remain well. Once Thalia had taken up watch, Mikhal made his way to Katia’s chambers. He was anxious to hear of her discoveries.

  Upon arrival, Mikhal knocked then waited to be bid entry; his child was almost a woman grown, and it was time he gave her the privacy of one. The voice that greeted his knock was far from the feminine voice of his daughter. Instead, he heard a masculine voice call for him to enter, and so he did, quickly, his face already showing the storm sparked by the thought of a man in his little girl’s rooms.