by Sonya Clark
I turned my attention to the larger candle in front of me, the one I would use as a focal point for my petition. All thoughts of chanting and poetry dissolved as the rhythm ran through me stronger, little pings against the high wire becoming more pronounced. Did it bring a melody with it, or did I do that when I started to hum? I put my questions aside and focused my intention on finding Blake.
Humming more confidently, I reached for the little plastic bag with the hairs from Blake’s brush. With a flick of energy, I lit the petition candle, the flame flashing higher than it should have. Pinching the few hairs between two fingers, I held them in the flame, visualizing Blake’s face, his dark chocolate eyes, full lips curled in a sexy smirk, his beautiful starfield aura. Sending out a silent call to him, hoping whatever connection might already exist between us would be strong enough to tell me his location.
Did this mean I was using myself as a magical tool of sorts? Once again I shut down the part of my brain that couldn’t stop asking questions and continued to focus on my intention. And hum. At some point it seemed to turn into a song, but I couldn’t readily identify the tune.
I caught a flicker in the air above the map out of the corner of my eye. A small inky black mass, shot through with red and purple and silver, spread out to the size of a dime over an area not far from downtown. My breath caught, shock, delight and wonder all filling me at once. As soon as I stopped humming, the image winked out.
“Well, crap.” I blew out the candles and stood, nearly toppling over. It felt like my blood sugar had dropped to the floor. Hell, under the floor. That big meal hadn’t lasted long. I’d need a candy bar before kidnapping the sorcerer away from his demon girlfriend. Maybe a cappuccino. If there was ever a time for excessive caffeine, surely this was one.
Chapter 8
The old Tennessee State Prison was a massive Gothic structure atop a hill overlooking the Cumberland River. It was everything you would imagine a haunted, abandoned prison to look like. After finding a place to park I thought would be suitable, I took a good look around to make sure no one was lurking, then climbed into the cargo section of the SUV and set up my tools.
A thirteen by nine metal cake pan with a long, slender nail welded to the center, just for spells that needed a particular kind of candle. A double-action candle, half black, half white, that I anointed with oil and speared on the nail right where the colors met. I oriented the white half to be pointing at me, to draw Blake to me, and the black half at what I hoped was Delia’s general direction. I had that hex message to send her, after all. Next I pulled Seth’s cellphone from my bag, then a small glass jar with a spider captured inside. I took a deep breath and slipped into a meditative state.
I don’t know how long it took me to find that hum of energy but I think it was quicker this time. Unsure if this was the right thing to do, I went ahead and asked it for help. I sent my own energy into the candle, lighting both ends at once. For a nice change, I was able to keep the flames under control. Good thing, since I had one end pointing right at me. I kept my focus tight and began to visualize Delia. I pictured her long blond cheerleader hair, preppy clothes and snooty attitude. I very firmly kept any stray image of her doing anything to Blake, good or bad, out of my head.
I opened the phone and called up Delia’s number but didn’t dial, placing it on the cargo bay floor next to the pan. Black and white wax collected in the bottom of the pan. Glasses off, eyes unfocused, I sent my will into the candle to start the spell. Visualized the energy of the candle flames, the energy of the cellphone and the energy of the spell she had used to sicken Daniel. Wove those threads together tight, so deep in the work I could no longer tell if it was my imagination or was I really seeing all these lines of energy crackle and spark in the air.
Raising the jar, I thanked the little spider for its sacrifice before dumping it into the pan, making sure it touched the flame before being captured by black wax. Another thread to weave. Then I picked up the phone and sent Delia a text message. How do you like it bitch?
Hey, I’ve been using that line since junior high, works in all sorts of occasions.
Now I had to maintain my focus to fuel the spell and keep it going, wait and hope Blake wasn’t tied up or unconscious and able to get away, and count on Delia being too busy barfing up increasingly larger spiders to follow.
I was drenched in sweat by the time I spotted his aura making its way to the SUV. He rapped the driver side window with his knuckles and I yelled for him to get in.
“Figured you were close when she started spitting out spiders.” His voice sounded strong but I didn’t look at him, afraid to break my concentration too much.
“You okay?” I managed to ask.
His lips on the side of my forehead, warm and firm, told me he was. “I take it you want me to drive?”
I nodded.
“Where to?”
“Anywhere.” This was taking a great deal out of me. He started the ignition and pulled onto the road. I put a hand on the pan to keep it steady.
The idea was to let the two ends of the candle burn themselves out. I’d worked with double-action candles before and never had this much trouble maintaining focus. I think it was because I was essentially pitting my will against a very powerful and dangerous entity, rather than the much weaker things I was used to dealing with. This didn’t bode well for my plans to exorcise her.
Blake took us to a motel near the airport, getting us a room while I stayed in the SUV with the candle. I carried the pan into the room with care, setting it on a small round table by the window and facing the black candle out.
I’d given it all I could. Content to let the candle burn itself out, I relaxed on the bed. Blake lay down and cuddled next to me, an arm draped across my stomach. After a while I felt better and sat up, wanting to look him over and make sure he was really okay. He kept his eyes closed, though I could tell he was awake. Three lines of dried blood from what looked like fingernail scratches marred his cheek. Somehow I didn’t think that was his only injury.
I combed his hair with my fingers. “How bad was it?”
“She throws a mean hissy fit,” he murmured. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes and temple. “Lot of screaming about me cheating on her and crap. I told her I never cheat on my women but I do consider a relationship to be over if a woman tries to kill me.”
“How’d she take that?”
Blake sat up, meeting my gaze. There was a flintiness in his chocolate eyes and no hint of a smirk. “She said she was sorry. She said she was wrong and she begged me to take her back. She’s so sweet when she begs.”
Well, that was not what I wanted to hear, but then I told myself, he could have stayed with her. He left when I gave him the chance and he was here with me now. That had to count for something. I reached for him, intending to kiss him, but he slipped away and left the bed.
The room was a typical cheap motel with a sink and sort of open closet outside the bathroom. The sound of running water cut through the heavy silence. Blake leaned over the sink, splashing water on his face. He grabbed a thin white towel to dry himself and stood there for a long moment, staring at his reflection. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but I was afraid of the answer. My own thoughts demanded attention. How the hell did this happen? How did I come to care so much about this man so quickly?
I laid my glasses on the nightstand and went to him, wrapped my hands around his upper arm, thrilling at the feel of muscle. “Baby,” I whispered.
He tossed the towel onto the edge of the sink. “She can’t kill me, can she?” He met my eyes in the mirror.
“I don’t think so.”
“Because of what was between her and me, because of our connection.”
I nodded. “That’s what I think.” I took the plunge and told him my theory, all of it.
He whirled to face me, his expression cold and hard as a black diamond. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s fuck, Roxie.”
I backed away, st
artled by his fury.
“Come on, take your clothes off.” He pulled his t-shirt over his head, balling it in one hand and throwing it viciously. Bandages on his chest still covered the worst wounds from the hellhound attack. “Take your clothes off and get in the bed and I’ll fuck you real good.”
“Blake, stop it!”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? It’s what she wants, why should you be any different? She fucks me so she can live. You want to fuck me so you can kill her. I must be a pretty good piece of ass if everyone wants some of me. So let’s do this and then you can go wash off the stain before you walk out on me.”
“What? I don’t…”
“’Cos that’s how it’s going to be, right? You sacrifice yourself and lie there and think of England or some shit while the dirty man does things to you. So you can tell yourself later you only did it, only did me, so you could defeat the evil demon. How very fucking noble of you, Roxanne.”
“I don’t deserve your anger.”
“I’m sick of being used!” he shouted. “Delia used me, now you. I can’t take this. I won’t.” He retrieved his shirt and made for the door.
I got in front of him, hands sliding up his arms. “Don’t go! You don’t understand. I don’t want to use you.” Pleading with him to stay, to listen, to calm down.
He shoved me away and I landed on the bed. He glared down at me. “What, like you’d choose to be with someone like me? You and I both know I’m not a nice man, Roxie. I’m not the guy you take home to meet the family.”
“I know what you are.”
“Do you? You sure about that? I’ve done bad things, honey. Plenty of ’em.” He leaned over me, hands on his knees. “And I usually enjoy it. I’m a thief and a liar. I pick fights. I don’t take my meds. I practice dark magic and kinky sex.” He cocked his head, the smirk returning for the first time. “Or is that the attraction? Think it might be fun to get down and dirty with a bad boy? Have me scratch an itch for you, then you get to walk away.”
“That’s not what this is.”
Nodding, he said, “Or maybe you think you can change me. I could be your little experiment. We have fun with bondage games for a while then you start trying to domesticate me. Start dropping hints about me getting a regular job with full benefits, a retirement plan and shit.”
I didn’t like him looming over me, thinking he could intimidate me, so I gave him a push and got to my feet. “If you think that’s what I’m like you clearly have not been paying attention.”
He stretched to his full height, allowing him to loom over me again. “Oh, I’ve been paying attention, all right. That’s why I don’t believe you want me for me.”
Now I understood. Oh, boy, did I understand. “Blake.” I reached for his hand.
He took a step back. “I’m not a good person.” He spat the words out like bits of broken glass pulled from a wound. “I got those kids killed. I called them my friends, and I got them killed.”
The starfield of his aura turned into a black hole. “I know what happened. I know all of it. You made a mistake. You trusted the wrong person. That doesn’t make you evil, Blake.”
“Then what does it make me?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “I’ve had people call me a freak. Tell me I’m marked by the devil. Had a guy tell me once he wouldn’t mind being friends with benefits but we couldn’t go back to his place, in case someone came over. I’m not looking to use you, Blake, and I’m not looking for an excuse for how I feel.”
“You say you understand, that you know who I am. You going to pretend you want me anyway?”
“I’m not pretending.”
“How can you know these things and still want me?” There was equal parts fear and need in his dark eyes.
“None of it matters. Baby, I don’t care.”
He stared at me hard for a long moment. Color washed back into his aura, little blooming star trails. He stepped forward, wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me to him. I met him with an eager kiss, running my hands over the muscles of his arms and back. He returned my kiss with a fierceness that might have scared me if I hadn’t felt the same. His hands twisted in my hair, our lips bruising each other’s.
We fell to the bed. Blake trapped me underneath him, his hands on either side of my head. Taking control of the kiss, he plundered my mouth with an excruciating slowness. Thorough, deliberate, every sweep of his tongue a promise. His lips trailed across my cheek, down my neck, finding a sensitive spot just above my right collar bone that tore a breathy moan from me. He nipped it with his teeth then ran his tongue across the slight abrasion. Liquid heat flooded my senses and I almost purred.
I brought my hands up to his shoulders, lightly rubbing across the warm skin there and on his upper arms, exploring the ridges of muscle. Raising my head for a kiss, he met my mouth with his. He brushed his lips softly over mine, nibbling, tugging, teasing. Denying me what I wanted, which was another deep bruising endless kiss. Frustration lashing at me, I slid my tongue over the seam of his lips. He drew back, handsome face made positively dangerous with a sexy smirk and dark eyes full of erotic promise.
“Be patient, Roxie,” Blake whispered, voice husky. “I’ll give you my tongue when I want you to have it.” He dipped his head to my left collar bone, finding another sensitive spot and repeating the biting and licking from earlier. “Where I want you to have it.”
I curled my fingers in his hair, trying to pull him up and demand a kiss. He wouldn’t have it. With quick economical movements he dragged us both a little farther down the bed then removed my t-shirt, tossing it to the floor. Gathering my wrists in one strong hand, he held me still as he ghosted his lips over my chest and abdomen. Scraping his teeth against my skin, he flicked his tongue in my belly button, running his mouth across the line of flesh just above the top of my jeans. My body was his instrument as he raised a trance-like rhythm of desire in me.
His eyes met mine and never left as he slid his free hand under my back, nails lightly scoring my skin as he unhooked my bra. In one smooth motion he removed the garment and raised my hands above my head, still holding my wrists. Settling himself half on top and half at my side, he laid the bra across my wrists. The question burned in his eyes and I answered with a single nod, more than happy to give him the surrender he needed. He maintained eye contact as he bound my hands with the bra.
Starting with a firm kiss on my mouth, he began to work his way down. His lips pressed against my jaw, coasted over the hollow of my throat, teased the sides of my breasts. Anticipation wrung a moan from me and he smiled before running his tongue up the side of one breast and taking the nipple between his lips. Delicious heat exploded through me. I writhed under him, wanting the last of our clothes gone, desperate for skin on skin. But Blake was determined to take his time, lavishing attention on first one nipple, then the other, sucking gently at first, then hard enough to make me gasp. The edge of his teeth followed by the silk of his tongue nearly undid me, bringing forth incoherent noises full of need.
I cried out in protest when he moved away. Blake unzipped my jeans and I raised my hips so he could work the last of my clothes off. Dropping a light kiss on the top of one foot, his fingers traced patterns on the other. He worked his way slowly up my legs that way, lips on one while a hand caressed the other. I watched as he advanced, his dark aura shimmering with the silver and heliotrope that indicated lust in him. One day I’d have to ask him why his colors for sex were different than what I was used to but right then, I didn’t care. I shivered as his lips reached my inner thigh.
The first faint touch of his tongue on my most sensitive spot sent a tidal wave of sensation all through my body. My head fell back against the bed, hands flexing in their binding. His big hands gripped my thighs as I twisted under his ministrations. My brain shut down and all I could do was ride the spiraling energy he created with his tongue and his fingers and my flesh until I shattered with a hoarse scream.
I lay there tremb
ling with aftershocks. Blake kissed his way up my belly, my breasts and the column of my neck. He finally gave me the kiss I’d been so desperate for earlier, his tongue tasting of my own smoky flavor. I curled against him, drawing one leg around his to bring him closer, his jeans rough against my skin. He untied my wrists, rubbing all over my hands and arms.
He stilled. I sensed a change in his mood and struggled to form words. “What is it, baby?”
“Nothing,” he whispered, dropping a soft kiss on my cheek. “What’s my aura look like right now?”
I widened my eyes in surprise. “You want to talk about your aura? Now? Really?”
He laid his head on my shoulder. “I just wondered what you see when you look at me.”
“I see stars.” I drew out the last word to accentuate the Southern in my voice, feeling silly and relaxed. “Supernovas. Nebulas.” I shifted to my side and captured his mouth for a long kiss. His fingers swept across my cheek and I saw the tentative smile he wore didn’t reach his eyes. “Why did you ask?”
He took a slow, deep breath. “Space is black without all that color. Dark and empty.”
I shook my head. “Not empty. There’s way too much else there. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not scared of the dark, and I’m not scared of what else is in you, either.”
He rested his head in the crook of my shoulder again. I held him, running my fingers through his hair. Scared he might sink back down into the dark fears that haunted him, I wanted to let him know we weren’t through here. I ran my hand lightly over his chest, careful of the bandages but enjoying the tickle of dark hair. His smile widened and bright purple mushroomed through his aura like an exploding star. We kissed, a slow carnal dance. I let one hand wander down the trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans, fumbling with the buttons until I gained access. Slipping inside, I skated the tips of my fingers across velvety skin before wrapping my hand around the hot thick evidence of his desire. He groaned into my mouth and the tenor of our kiss ramped up to a thundering hunger.