by Cassi Carver
She screamed and tried to bolt, but he yanked her head back and smacked her against the wall. She dropped the book and would have fallen to the ground, but she’d only sunk to her knees before his tight grip on her hair stopped her from going farther. “She has The Book of Death!” he said.
The other man smiled, his hand crackling with magic as he waved it in front of her face to taunt her. “Finally something went our way. I thought Claudius would skin us when she survived the accident, but he was right again. Leave her alone a few days here and she gains access to a room he’s never been able to breach. Now our coven has the final book to complete the set.”
Abbey glared at him from her position on the dirt floor. “It’s not your coven. I’m the rightful high priestess of the northwestern hemisphere—not Claudius.”
The man yanked her hair again and pulled her to her feet to meet his eyes. “Yeah, we figured that out when Claudius couldn’t enter the room that held this book. But once you’re gone, he’ll be the only one left in line.”
His friend took her chin in his grip and the energy that had been coalescing in his hand rocketed into her. “Aaahh!” she shrieked.
He laughed and spoke too closely to her burning face. “Claudius has big plans for our people, dangerous plans, and look at you. You’re too weak to lead your neighborhood watch—much less the northwestern hemisphere. We’ll be doing the coven a favor by taking you out of the running…permanently.”
So she had her answer about Claudius. No matter how irrational it was to wish she’d been wrong about him, the truth still hurt.
“Abbey!” Jaxon bellowed as he barreled down the tunnel toward them.
“Stop right there!” the man holding her hair shouted.
As she grasped his wrists and struggled to break his hold, he shook her head like a shark thrashing a piece of meat. She lost her grip, flopping in time with the movement of his arm, feeling like she might lose consciousness at any moment. And judging from the pain in her head and neck, there was a real danger he might either break her neck or inadvertently scalp her.
“Let her go,” Jaxon warned.
From what Abbey could see when the world stopped spinning, Jaxon’s shoes and hand were lightly splattered in blood, but the rest of him looked okay. If she could get that ward down, he’d have a chance of escaping.
The other man pulled a hunting knife from a scabbard at his hip and held it to Abbey’s throat. “Not one more step, you Fallen filth.”
Jaxon went as still as a stone and put his hands up. “I’m not moving. You can lower the knife.”
“Save yourself! They’re going to kill me anyway!” she shouted, right before the jerk of her hair caused the knife to sink into the side of her neck. She gasped and felt a slow warmth trickle down her neck and pool in her collarbone.
“Abbey!” Jaxon said again, his face a tortured mask of desperation. “I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t hurt her.”
“Lie down and lace your hands behind your head,” her captor told him.
When Jaxon dropped to his knees and met her gaze, Abbey saw his love for her reflected in his eyes. She hoped after all she’d put him through, he could understand how much she truly loved him, too.
“Keep that blade nice and tight,” the man wrenching her hair said to his friend before releasing his grip and walking to Jaxon.
When he hauled back his booted foot and delivered a punishing blow to Jaxon’s ribs, Abbey cried out and struggled forward. The man with the knife at her throat shoved her hard into the dirt and put his shoe into her spine, stepping down with all his weight to keep her pinned beneath him.
Tears flooded her eyes when after several shots to the ribs, Jaxon coughed blood onto the dry clay soil. “Please, please stop,” she pleaded, unable to move much more than her pained neck and her hands. “You have me. Just let him go.”
She blinked her eyes to clear away the drops obscuring her vision. But then she wished she hadn’t. The man standing above Jaxon clapped his hands together and sparked them to life, then flung burst after burst of raw energy into Jaxon’s writhing body. If she couldn’t help him, Jaxon wasn’t going to be able to defend himself when they came for his head.
Earth. Air. Water. And energy.
Face pressed to the dirt, she let her watery vision go blurry as she focused on her thoughts. “Mountain, I’m not sure if you have a spirit of your own, or if you’re made up of all my people who came before me.” And because she didn’t want whatever energy was here to take it the wrong way, she added, “I don’t mean you any harm. I just need you to go away for a while, so the other witches can’t use you against me, and so the man I love can get his wings back. You helped me with my mother’s recorder. Help me now.”
The torches along the wall fluttered almost imperceptibly at first, but when the flames started to build, Abbey put a finger to her lips and implored the powers that be. “Shhh… Quietly.”
The flames dropped back to a slow, steady burn, and Abbey wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. But the time had come for her to try to be more than she’d ever been before—to attempt to fulfill the promise of her parents’ blood.
The man above her laughed and ground his foot into her harder. “That’s right,” he shouted to his buddy. “Give that Fallen scum what he deserves!”
She blocked out Jaxon’s anguished cries and centered her thoughts, then ran her hand through the dirt. “Solum,” she whispered, and felt the earth gently heat under her.
Next, she brought her dusty hand to her lips and blew. “Aura.”
A light breeze picked up in the tunnel, but the men seemed so intent on torturing Jaxon—one hurling insults while the other hurled spells—that Abbey didn’t even think they noticed.
She ran her fingertips under her eye, capturing the tears there, then she extended her hand in offering and whispered, “Proluvies,” and she swore she could smell storm clouds thick in the air around them.
She closed her eyes one last time, so she wasn’t sure what happened when she heard a loud smack of flesh and Jaxon groaned like an injured animal. Energy. Energy was next, and she didn’t know if she had enough to finish the spell… But she had to try. If nothing else, she would prove to Jaxon that she would fight for them with everything she had.
She dug within herself, letting the current build until both hands were quaking. The pressure on her spine increased until she thought it might snap. “What the hell are you up to?” the man asked from above her.
“Fulmen!” she said aloud, her voice bitter and full of vengeance, and the entire tunnel—hell, maybe even the entire mountain—began to shake.
The man stumbled back and thrust his knife out before him as Abbey lurched to her feet. She could feel the current. It was as if every twining thread of energy around them was filtering through her body. It was magnificent, as though she could control the universe if she simply gave the dark force its due.
Nex veneficus, she mused, her hair beginning to go wild around her head as the energy played with the strands. She had all the power she would ever need finally at her fingertips.
The tunnel continued to quake, and huge cracks began to form, running the entire length of the shaft. The man with the knife cowered before her, looking as though he was considering attempting a spell but didn’t have the guts to try it.
She glanced at Jaxon’s prone body and the man poised over him and knew that no matter how wonderful it felt to be a high priestess with this magnitude of power, she had to end it. “I’m sorry, my friend,” she said to the ether, then raised her hand in the air, and slammed it down in a chopping motion. “Terminus!” she called, and the entire tunnel went instantly still, the torches sputtering to black.
“Jaxon! It’s done!” he heard, but when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was in the Abyss or awaiting regeneration, because everything was as dark as pitch.
“Abbey?” he called, and heard shuffling to his right.
“I’m over here.”
If Abbey was over there, then whatever rodent was scampering out of the tunnel wasn’t her. He got to his feet with a silent moan, and ran a few paces in the direction of the noise until he connected with a large, solid body. Fielding a blow as he felt for the man’s neck, Jaxon sank his claws into the man’s throat and with his other hand, grabbed his chin.
“How dare you thrash my woman’s head,” he growled, but the response was barely a gurgle as he tore the man’s head from his shoulders.
“Jaxon?” Abbey’s voice, vibrant and strong, rang through the tunnel.
“I’m here, dove.”
“There’s another one! He’s got a knife—” she started to say, and his heart stopped when her words cut short and the sound of a struggle replaced them.
“Abbey!” He lurched toward the noise, but then Abbey squeaked like a mouse stuck with a pin. “Abbey!” he bellowed.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” she chanted. “I think I killed him. I stabbed him, Jaxy…” And next he heard the sound of her dry-heaving somewhere in front of him.
A second later, Jaxon followed the sound of her spitting and moaning and tripped over something in his path. He reached down and found the body of the second man. He felt around until he came upon a knife buried in the man’s stomach. But the bastard was still breathing. No one who tried to kill his woman had that privilege.
Jaxon yanked the blade from the man’s abdomen and stabbed it through his chest, right where his heart should be. When the man’s last breath seeped from his lungs, Jaxon called, “You didn’t kill him, dove. I did.”
He heard the sound of her sobbing and made his way to her. Touching her warm skin and feeling her heartbeat convinced him he was the luckiest man in this realm. “Praise the Maker, Abigail. I thought I’d lost you.” Again.
She clung tight to him as he led them down the hall, his hand along the tunnel wall guiding them back. It didn’t escape his attention that what was once a fairly smooth-hewn surface was now jagged and crumbling at his touch. He almost tripped when the dirt floor changed elevations as though the ground had separated. But thankfully, everything was still now. The terrible quaking had ceased after Abbey invoked the final word of the spell.
They stepped into the pantry, Abbey slipping briefly in the spilled sugar coating the floor. When they entered the kitchen, the floor was littered with broken dishes and debris that had shaken free of the cupboards, and the only light in the house was what was filtering in from the moon. No appliance was lit, as though someone had flipped the switch to the circuit breaker…and maybe that was exactly what Abbey had done.
He grasped her nape and brought his head down to press his forehead against hers. “What did you do in there, dove? You almost brought down the mountain.”
Her eyes wide with concern, she met his gaze. “Umm…sorcery, I think. I used the book.”
She looked as though she was waiting for him to scold her, but he laughed instead and squeezed her tighter. “Well done! We’ll deal with my people if the time comes. For now, we celebrate. The Northwestern Coven’s high priestess has ascended to her rightful place—a sorceress, no less.”
She went still. “Not quite.”
Somewhere in the dark tunnel was The Book of Death, and there were bodies he needed to dispose of, but at this moment, with Abbey before him, all that shrank into the background.
He frowned and cupped a hand to her cheek. “What do you mean? No one will support your uncle remaining in power now that you have proof of his treachery.”
“What I mean is, while I am planning to lead my coven, and I won’t let my people down—” she put her hand over his and gave him a slow, thorough kiss, “—my ‘rightful place’ is with you.”
His lips parted, and everything in his body quieted at her declaration. “Are you certain?”
“I love you. And I’m in love with you. You’re my best friend and my greatest lover, and I want to spend the rest of my witchy life with you.”
He wiped at the moisture in his eyes and tucked a flame-colored lock of hair behind Abbey’s ear. “My life’s ambition will be making you happy, Abbey, from this moment and forevermore.”
“You’ve already got the happy covered.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Next thing we’ll need to discuss is who gets control of the remote—or if we’ll have to wrestle for it.”
Jaxon laughed and at the stirring of his will, his blessed silver wings stretched from his back. “I plan to keep you too occupied to worry about television for quite some time.”
A spark lit in her eyes, and she pressed her body tighter against his. “Mmm… Is that so?”
Flexing his wings, he gathered her close and took her sweet lips one more time.
One lifetime—or a hundred—it would never be enough to quench his thirst for his woman or diminish his love for her. All that mattered was spending their days side by side. “Let’s go home.”
About the Author
Cassi Carver lives in sunny Southern California with two dogs, four kids and a hubby who gives great massages. She gets to the Gaslamp Quarter for research (okay, happy hour) as often as possible. She’s never saved the world, but she keeps sexy boots on hand just in case the opportunity arises.
Website: www.cassicarver.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Twitter: @CassiCarver
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Look for these titles by Cassi Carver
Now Available:
The Shadow Slayers
Slayer’s Kiss
Shadow Rising
Her lover is back from the dead…but now there’s hell to pay.
Shadow Rising
© 2012 Cassi Carver
The Shadow Slayers, Book 2
When Kara Reed learns her bondmate, Julian, is truly dead, and that Gavin has seemingly skipped town, she figures things have hit rock bottom. But soon, a string of bizarre accidents has her doubting those closest to her. And to make matters worse, the demon-king’s brand carved into her best friend Abbey’s stomach is deteriorating by the day.
Then a powerful coven of witches issues Kara an ultimatum. Bring them the blood of a true fallen angel—the only thing that will heal Abbey—or die. Kara would do anything to help her friend. Problem is, the only fallen angel she’s seen lately is the disoriented black-wing who attacked her scouts. One who looks suspiciously like Julian. Getting his blood might be easier if he was more interested in kissing her than killing her.
Caught between a coven of vengeful witches and a murderous dead lover, Kara must deliver the blood, heal the slow poison of Abbey’s brand, and save Julian from being consumed by the Abyss. But to do this, she may need the help of the one man she swore never to trust again…Gavin.
Warning: This book contains an angry demon returning from the dead, a clan lord hiding a terrible secret, and a hunted heroine cracking open a can of whoop-ass. Watch out for creepy kitties, exploding bad guys, and some very sudsy shower sex.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Shadow Rising:
The black-wing sat at her kitchen table and sprawled his legs apart while Kara filled a pot with hot water from the tap. She lit the stove with trembling fingers and took out three boxes of macaroni from the cupboard. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
“Hurry.”
She couldn’t believe it. She was being held captive by a nude Aniliáre who had no qualms about rubbing his bare ass on her breakfast chairs. She took out a jug of milk and some butter from the refrigerator to make the sauce.
“What’s that?” he asked.
She held up the jug. “This?”
He frowned and rose to his feet. “Yes.”
“Milk.”
He walked to the kitchen counter and extended his hand. “Give it to me.”
Without a word, Kara handed him the jug. With the claws poking from his fingertips, he shredded the top of the plastic bottle, then held it to his lips as
he gulped and gulped. Milk ran down his chin, onto his chest and the floor under his feet. Shit. That was going to reek when it spoiled if she couldn’t get it out of the rug.
A tiny bubble of laughter burst from her lips. What did a ruined rug matter when she was going to be dead soon? She stuffed back her laughter, thinking of how he might take offense again, but he didn’t seem to care about anything but the white liquid he was guzzling.
Kara watched in wide-eyed shock as he drained the entire gallon of milk. When he was finished, he threw the container down and used the back of his hand to wipe his damp face. “What else do you have?”
Holy shit. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of carrots. “Do you want them peeled?”
He ripped the bag from her grip and shoved one long carrot in his mouth. He chewed quickly at first, then slowed, his ravenous expression turning into a disgusted grimace. “No. Not this.”
He flung the bag so hard, it dented the paneling on her cupboard and sent the carrots flying in all directions like little projectiles.
Kara put her hands out. “Calm down, Mr. Black-wing. I’ll find something.” She emptied the pasta into the pot, then turned to inspect the contents of the freezer.
“Julian,” he said.
“What?” She stood with a package of frozen steaks in her hand. “What did you say?”
“I want you to call me Julian.”
“Okay…Julian.” She’d call him whatever the hell he wanted if it got her out of this alive.
He stepped close to her and took the frozen package from her hands. “I’ll eat this.”
“It’s frozen. I have to defros—” The words died in her throat when his cupped palms lit up, burning the plastic cover from around the steaks. Steam rose from the meat. Juicy blood trailed down his forearms as the solid block went floppy in his hands.
He bit into the raw meat and growled. “This. Yes.”