Demons (Eirik Book 1)

by Ednah Walters

  “No, no. None of that here.” He gripped my arms and planted a kiss on my left cheek then my right. “Join me for lunch.”

  “Lunch?” Eirik hadn’t mentioned eating with his father.

  “Yes, lunch, my dear,” Baldur said. “You do eat.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  I ate without tasting a thing and heard Eirik and his father’s discussion without actually absorbing much. The more I thought about the woman in the cave the more I was convinced she wanted me to teach Eirik magic. He might come from magical people, but he had zero abilities. He was no longer locked in that dungeon and was free to come and go as he pleased, so he didn’t need my help setting him free or busting him out of Hel. Heck, he had a chance to escape and hadn’t taken it. He didn’t want to leave. Unless I missed something. That left magic—spells and everything witchy.

  I stopped stressing about the giantess and studied father and son, noting the little differences I’d missed during my first observation. Eirik’s blond locks were slightly darker than his father’s. His eyes were also a lighter shade of amber and his skin was definitely more tanned.

  “So tell me your story, dýrr?” Baldur said, leaning back against his seat, a glass of mead or apple juice in his hand. They drank a lot of both here. “My son tells me nothing, except that you are special.”

  Lying was not an easy thing for me, especially after I stopped living a lie years ago and embraced what I was. I glanced at Eirik and from his expression he knew I was about to do a one-eighty. He shook his head, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lie anymore.

  My eyes met his gentle ones and the words tumbled out. “I’m a seventeen-year-old Witch from Windfall, Louisiana,” I said and Eirik groaned. I ignored him. “I have the ability to astral project, which I use to help people.”

  “Let it all out,” Eirik mumbled.

  “Son, let her finish,” his father said, his voice so pleasant it didn’t sound like a reprimand.

  I spared Eirik a glance. He looked ready to strangle me. “Last week on Monday, I astral projected here, found your son in the dungeons, and realized he needed help. I came back on Friday with drinks, chocolate, and warm clothes. Since then, I’ve tried to astral project home, but I can’t. I’m trapped.”

  Baldur frowned. “The magic here interferes, I believe. We’ve had a few Witches stay with us a little longer than expected, but that was centuries ago when Earth had more powerful magic.”

  Another Trudy. Eirik no longer looked pissed. He was interested in our conversation. “How long were they here?” he asked.

  “Too long,” he said vaguely. “I’ll see what I can do to help. In the meantime, you are welcome to be our guest for as long as you want.”

  “I want to go home, sir.”

  “I know. Unfortunately, the entrance used by the Grimnirs is only one-way for souls. They can enter, but never leave.”

  “Why not?” Eirik asked.

  “A soul leaving through it would reverse the runes guarding it and prevent souls from coming in—but not from leaving. I don’t think Mortals are equipped to deal with an influx of souls from this realm. Most are drawn to the living.”

  I could just imagine. Maybe that was what my mother saw in her premonition—evil souls following me through the Grimnirs’ portal and causing mayhem. I felt a little sick thinking about it.

  Baldur patted my arm. “Don’t worry, there are ways around it. I’ll let you know once I arrange it.”

  Hope returned, but Eirik was once again scowling. I hoped he didn’t think I’d undermined or betrayed him by confessing to his father. I was raised to face my problems head-on and when stumped to turn to my family for help, not hide the truth from them.

  Baldur’s focused shifted and he murmured, “Elskr mín.”

  I followed his eyes to a portal. The goddess stood on the other side. Her blue gown enhanced the color of her eyes and hugged every curve of her body. Smiling, she stepped into the room. The smile was a bit cocky and mocking, yet totally captivating. Just like Eirik’s.

  Eirik and his father stood. I scrambled unceremoniously to my feet. Not that she noticed me. Her eyes were on her boys, and she didn’t hide that she adored them, which begged the question, why had she starved Eirik? I didn’t buy her assertion that she was testing his endurance. She could have easily made him run a marathon in their frozen tundra or something for that.

  The goddess floated to her husband’s side. The affection between them was obvious as he looped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer before planting a kiss on her lips.

  “Why didn’t you tell me our son was joining us for lunch?” she chided him.

  “We were busy with your guests, dýrr,” Baldur responded smoothly.

  “Hardly guests. Visitors who stop by unannounced and insist on a private audience can always wait. Next time, come get me. Two days of dealing with them is more than enough. I’d rather be here. Trudy?”

  I hadn’t noticed Trudy until now. She pulled out a chair for the goddess, then discreetly stepped back. The goddess sat and Baldur moved his chair closer to hers. As though it was a ritual, she gave him her hand. They were so cute together. I glanced at Eirik to see his reaction. His face was expressionless.

  He pushed in his chair. “We were just leaving, Mother.”

  “Were you now?” the goddess said, studying him, her expression still amused. If his attitude hurt her, she didn’t show it. “And what is so important you have to run away, Son?”

  “I’m not running, Mother. I’m walking away. Celestia needs my help with something.” I wanted to kick him. He wanted to knock heads with his mother? He should go ahead and leave me out of it.

  Her eyes narrowed on me. This time, she didn’t try to get inside my head. She just dismissed me and her focus shifted back to Eirik. “Hmm, I believe you missed Monday’s training session. Litr will escort you to the training arena tomorrow.”

  Eirik leaned on the back of his chair and locked gazes with her. “Which one? The Grimnirs’ or the one under the bridge?”

  “So you’ve been snooping.”

  “Hardly. This is my home. I was giving myself a tour since no one’s offered to show me around. Will you just be watching me train or participating?” Eirik shot back.

  “You can’t handle me, Son. Not for a few more centuries.”

  “Give me back my mace and let’s find out,” he shot back.

  The goddess laughed. “Okay. You’ll get your mace.”

  “And my artavo?”

  The smile left her face. “You have no need for the blades.”

  “Isn’t that for me to decide?” He leaned in, his hands gripping the back of the chair, his voice emotionless. “Just like I’ve been deciding things for my life the last eighteen years? Alone? What to wear to school because the maid was running late and my parents didn’t want to be bothered? What to eat when no one was home after I got home from school, or go to my friend’s house to eat their leftovers? Worrying about what my mother would say because I didn’t do so well in math or science, except she didn’t give a shit?” He straightened, his hands gripping his chair. “Where were you then to decide for me, Mother?”

  Holy crap. A stricken look had crossed the goddess’ face the moment Eirik had started talking. Now she was pale, her runes less sparkly.

  Baldur extended a hand toward Eirik. “Son…”

  “Don’t, Father. You have no idea…” Eirik took a long breath and exhaled. “You both have no idea what my life was like, so yes, when I say I want my artavo back, you give them back. I’m not a child anymore. You had your chance to tell me what to do and shape my future when I was young, but you missed out. This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

  He turned and started to leave the room, then extended his hand to me. I was fighting tears. All his arrogance and cockiness hid so much pain, and the dam finally broke. I took his hand.

  “Open a portal back to our room,” he whispered.

  I did and looked ba
ck once to find the goddess staring after us with an expression I couldn’t describe. If someone asked me, I’d say she was relieved, which didn’t make sense. The woman didn’t react like a typical mother.

  ~*~

  Inside the room, Eirik dropped on the bed and covered his face with his arm. I stood by the bed and stared down at him, wiping the wetness from my cheeks, not sure what to do. Did he want me to leave?

  “Don’t cry for me, Dimples,” he mumbled. “No one has a perfect childhood. We all have cracks and pieces missing. Some of us are just better at covering them.”

  He hid his by acting invincible and being cocky. “You should have seen her face. I think she was shocked.”

  “Let’s hope it lasts long enough for her to give me my blades.” A knock resounded on the door and he sat up. “I guess it did.”

  I went to answer it and found Litr on the other side with a wrapped leather pouch. On top of the pouch was a mace with a single spiked round head. It seemed so ordinary, except for the runes on the handle.

  “For the young god,” Litr said.

  “Thanks.” I reached for them and he placed them on my stretched hand. In the next second, the floor rushed to meet me. My chin landed on the spikes and pain shot along my jaw. Eirik reached me seconds later, his runes blazing.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m so sorry, miss,” Litr said. “I forgot.”

  “I got her, Litr,” Eirik said. I was on his lap before I knew it. He had his speed runes, so I hadn’t seen that coming. I would have scrambled off his lap if it weren’t for my throbbing chin. He gripped my wrist when I lifted my hand. “Don’t touch it.”

  “Is it bleeding?”

  He tilted my head. “Not really. It’s just a scratch.”

  A scratch wouldn’t hurt this much. Blood dropped on my pants. Oh no. Panicking, I wiggled my hand free and touched my chin. My hand came out red. I hated blood. Hated seeing it, touching it. It was one of those phobias I couldn’t explain yet.

  “Oh, God. I’m going to faint. I need to lie down.” I tried to scramble from Eirik’s lap, but his arm tightened.

  “It’s nothing, Dimples. Calm down.”

  “Calm down? You’re not the one bleeding to death.” Panic rose like a tidal wave. “What the hell is that thing made of?”

  “Dwarf magic, miss,” Litr said. “I should not have given it to you.”

  “Litr, stop beating yourself up,” Eirik ordered. “Go. She now knows never to touch my weapons.” The Dwarf threw us one last apologetic glance and hustled out of the room.

  Eirik rose gracefully and with such ease like I weighed nothing, carried me to the bed, and sat. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t let you bleed to death.” He tucked my head under his chin and stroked my cheek.

  I slowly calmed down. Then everything changed. I became aware that I was on his lap, which made it suddenly hard to breath. I wanted to wrap myself around him and soak him in. An ache started in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but I knew it had something to do with this guy.

  “Okay, I’m going to lay you down on the bed, Dimples, and take care of your chin.” I clung to him for just a second, then mentally slapped myself. I wasn’t the clinging type. I let him go. He gently laid me against the pillows.

  “Do you have a mirror? Can I see?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I blinked at his firm voice. “Why not?”

  “Because I just calmed you down and I don’t want you panicking again.”

  “Oh God. It’s bad.” I sat up, aiming to dash to the mirror in the corner of the room, but he pushed me against the pillow.

  “Hey, don’t you trust me?” he asked.

  Like no one else outside my father. He’d protected me twice against his mother even when he didn’t know me. I stared into his ridiculously handsome face and nodded.

  “Good. Then trust that it’s not bad and I’ll take care of you.”

  I nodded again and my panic melted away. I realized why. It wasn’t just the gentleness in his voice that did it. He was running his knuckles gently along my jawline. The feel of his skin against mine left a trail of warmth that snaked its way under my skin. Must be the runes, which were still blazing. They made his touch electrifying.

  I felt bereft when he stopped and went to get one of the towels hanging around the bathtub. He detoured, grabbed the leather pouch Litr had brought, and lifted the mace like it weighed nothing.

  “Magic, my ass,” I mumbled. “That can’t be the explanation for everything that’s wrong with this place.”

  “Don’t you mean everything that’s cool about this place?” he asked and grinned at me. My breath caught. Eyes heavy-lidded, the lazy smile curling one corner of his lips more than the other made him look sexy. A smiling Eirik was lethal. I captured the image and mentally stored it. He walked back toward the bed and my heart started a crazy beat. This time, the panic had nothing to do with blood. The look in his eyes said…

  No. I was attracted to Eirik, but it was one-sided. He couldn’t be attracted to me. He had a girlfriend. He sat on the edge of the bed and the mattress dipped. My traitorous body responded, loving the warmth he exuded. Despite my thoughts and the constant reminder that he had a girlfriend, my body kept betraying me in ways that were new and exciting, confusing and scary.

  “You are lifting the mace and you are about as magical as a lump of coal,” I mumbled, trying to get the conversation back to the mundane. “As Cora.” His eyebrows shot up.

  Why did I have to bring up his girlfriend’s name now? We were having a moment. That was probably why.

  “Corrine Raquet, but her friends call her Cora,” I lied. Lame, Celestia. “She couldn’t make up a spell to save herself if her butt caught fire.” All members of Weak-Ass Coven were terrible Witches. I touched my chin gingerly and winced. “Damn, how sharp are the spikes on that mace?”

  “Very.” Eirik rested his left elbow on the other side of me and leaned in to clean the wound. I closed my eyes. Bad idea on so many levels. My other senses kicked in and picked up on everything.

  His abs pressed against my side and from the way my body reacted, we might as well not be wearing sweaters. His muscles shifted with every breath he took. His chest was so close to brushing against mine I held my breath with anticipation.

  He groaned, and my eyes flew open and locked with his. His blazed with heat and something I’d never seen in a man’s eyes before. No man had ever looked at me like this.

  “Sorry if that hurt,” he said in a voice gone husky.

  “What?”

  “I dabbed the spot and you moaned in pain.”

  If I had moaned, it had absolutely nothing to do with pain. I had no idea he’d even started cleaning it. He used his thumb to tilt my head and probed the area with the edge of the towel.

  “Ouch.”

  “Can I kiss it better?”

  My heart trembled. Now he was screwing with my head. I was imagining those gorgeous lips on my skin and liking the idea. Too much. He really shouldn’t suggest things like that.

  I tried to break free from the magical spell swirling around us and drawing me toward him. His face was tight as though he was holding himself stiff, fighting it, yet his lips seemed relax and inviting, and so damn kissable it wasn’t fair.

  Remember Cora.

  “That stopped working when I was two,” I said in a voice I didn’t recognize.

  His eyes bored deep into mine. Then slowly, he closed the gap between our lips. “Svana was still kissing my boo-boos when I was five and I loved it,” he whispered.

  I closed my eyes, breathing suspended. He pressed his lips on the edge of my freaking chin. My heart hurtled to my throat and a soft moan escaped me. His lips were warm and his breath mingled with mine. I swallowed, my heart pounding. Any second, I expected him to kiss me on the lips, too. Then he was gone.

  “Do you have a spell to heal it?” he asked in a voice that was hard to describe. Low.
Sexy. Strained.

  I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t speak if I tried. I shook my head.

  “Want me to take care of it?”

  I nodded.

  “You and I practice different types of magic, Dimples,” he explained. “You use spells and I use runes. So I’m just as magical as you. Probably more so because the blood of magical people flows through my veins.”

  I knew he was trying to bring back normalcy between us, so I tried. The torture of having him this close yet so unattainable was too much.

  “Mine too, from my mother and grandmother,” I said. “Astral projection doesn’t need spells. I was born with the ability.” I wasn’t bragging. I just wanted him to know how awesome I was. “I had premonitions by the time I was in kindergarten.”

  He grinned. “Okay, you are special too, Celestia Devereaux.” He’d recovered and his voice was back to normal. “This won’t have a lasting effect, but it should work.” He opened the leather pouch Litr had brought with the mace and pulled out a dagger. It had a thin blade like an ice pick. The blade started to glow.

  “What’s that?” I asked, curiosity yanking me back to normal.

  “An artavus. We use them to etch runes. Remember I told you about them this morning?”

  The runes stuff was intriguing, but… “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Eirik. How do we know if it will work? What if it hurts or burns, or makes it worse?”

  He sat and studied me with a mocking smile. “Are you always such a scaredy-cat? You’re scared of blood. Pain. Icy caves.”

  “Shut up.”

  “There,” he said and let go of my face.

  I frowned. The runes were back on his skin and they were glowing brightly. I could even see the ones under his shirt. “What do you mean there?”

  He got up, rummaged through his bag, and came back with a mirror. “Take a look.”

  Confused, I took the mirror and studied my chin. There were three pink patches of skin like a healed wound. Then the pinkness disappeared, leaving behind normal skin. No scars. Nothing. I glanced at Eirik. The runes on his face still glowed.