Dark Descent (Codex Blair Book 3)

by Izzy Shows

  Emily lifted her hand, palm splayed out, and began to chant in an old language I couldn't recognise. Aramaic?

  "No! Mercy, mercy, paladin!" The succubus cried, shielding her face.

  Emily dropped her arm, a torn look on her face.

  "What are you doing?" I stared at her, dumbstruck.

  "I...I can't, Blair. I can't. It's against His law."

  I couldn't stop staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. I whirled to look at Mal, his face had gone oddly pale, and then refocussed on the succubus.

  "You might not be able to, but I sure as hell can." I snapped, yanking my ice wand out of its holster. I'd freeze the bitch's heart to death.

  "Blair, no," Emily said, but I shook off the hand she placed on my arm. Gentle.

  I couldn't be gentle.

  I took a step, so that one leg was one either side of the succubus, reached down and gripped her by the hair to jerk her head up so that she was inches away from my face.

  "You will not live to regret this night," I said.

  She gasped, her drug laden eyes focusing in on my own with sudden clarity. Her eyes went wide, she lifted a trembling hand—and then Mal was there, his fist landing on the succubus' face and knocking her out cold. He brushed me to the side so that I stumbled backwards and scooped the woman up in his arms.

  He turned to look at me, his features tightened.

  "She does not have to die," he said, and I could see sudden pain in his eyes that I couldn't understand.

  He vanished, taking the succubus with him.

  40

  I paced through my living room, from one side to the other and back again, fuming. I couldn't believe Mal's betrayal, couldn't make sense of it and didn't know what to say to him when I saw him next. He had ignored my callings.

  A broken bottle of vodka next to the fireplace was evidence of the rage that battered inside of me. I'd had nowhere to put it, no one to shove it at, so it had gone into destruction of my own property.

  He had left Emily and me there to clean up the mess; she'd woken the sleeping mages and Gods help me, I'd lied to them. Told them it had all been taken care of.

  I'd only done it because I fully intended to finish what I had started. I was going to kill that succubus, and maybe Mal too once I got a hold of him. I wanted to wring his neck.

  How could he do this?

  He'd been so on board with everything, he'd wanted to kill the bloody mages I had been protecting, he hadn't understood what I'd been saying about rehabilitating them once the compulsion had worn off. And they had been just fine when they'd woken up, thanks to Emily's sleeping spell. I didn't know the ins and outs of holy magic, but I'd been damned lucky to have her on my side.

  It hadn't been luck to have Mal there, though, the fucker had only been in the way. I was going to give him a piece of my mind when I saw him, that was for damn sure.

  I stomped into the kitchen and fixed myself another drink, silently promising myself that I wasn't going to throw anything this time.

  Moving into the living room again, I stood because I was too antsy to sit and downed the glass in one go. I grimaced at the burn of the vodka, but I didn't know what else I could do.

  "Malphas, Malphas, Malphas, you better get your shitty fucking arse down here before I go on a killing spree." I ground out the words, not sure if they were going to work any better than they had last time. I didn't know how he was avoiding me, but I knew that every time he did it, I only got madder.

  I was going to skin him alive.

  "Miss me, baby?" His voice came from behind me.

  I whirled around, lifting up my empty glass to chuck it at his head—so much for not throwing things—but he was beside me in an instant to pluck it out of my hand.

  "Ah, ah, you wouldn't want to mess up my pretty face, now would you?"

  "I'm going to mess up a lot more if you don't tell me why the hell you did that," I said.

  He looked at me for a long moment before he sighed, his shoulders slumping a little bit.

  "There's no chance you can just trust that I did the right thing and that I'm handling it, is there?"

  I glared at him.

  "No, I didn't think there was," he said. He chewed at his lower lip, nervous for the first time. I'd never seen him like this, and didn't know what to make of it. I felt my rage receding and gripped at it, refusing to let it go. I didn't want to forgive him. "I'm sorry. She's an old girlfriend. I couldn't let you kill her, not when I recognised her."

  "An old girlfriend?" I squeaked, staring at him. "You saved an ex who was terrorising my town, killing my mages, because you used to shag her?"

  "Well, when you put it like that, it just sounds irresponsible. It was more than that, she wasn't just someone I shagged back in the day. She meant more to me than that."

  "I didn't know you were capable," I said, snorting. "Is she the girl you got the earrings for?" I lifted my chin defiantly.

  The light in his eyes shuttered closed.

  This past summer, when we'd been training together, I'd made him tell me a story. We'd been exhausted from a long night of fighting, and I'd wanted to know more about him. He'd told me about a time he'd broken into a dragon's vault, which had taken a turn for the nasty, all so he could steal these earrings for a girl he cared about. He'd been broken up about it and refused to tell me who she was.

  "No," he said, his voice quiet. "They weren't for her."

  "Can't have meant that much to you then," I said.

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Blair." His voice had a warning in it, but I disregarded it.

  "I know that you stole a kill from me, a kill that was well deserved. She killed people, Mal, innocent people that didn't deserve to be used like that. She deserves to die."

  "What about the mages that were compelled, you didn't think they deserved to die! They were trying to kill you, but you were so hung up on their innocence. She's a victim just as much as they were, and she can be made better. I can help her, I can get her out of this and she'll be able to understand what happened. It's going to follow her for the rest of her life, and believe me, she won't feel good about it. She deserves a second chance."

  "Like hell." I bit out, glaring at him. "She's going to die, Mal. I'm going to kill her."

  "I won't let you," he said, his voice grave.

  I swore, stomping away from him. "You don't get to make these decisions!"

  "Yes, I do, because you don't know where she is, and I'm not going to tell you until you calm down."

  "Calm down?" I barked out a manic laugh. "How the hell am I supposed to calm down, Mal? I've got your bloody brand driving me crazy, not to mention you just plain making me furious."

  He frowned. "That's acting up again?"

  "What do you think?" I snapped, taking off the cuff, and showing him the brand. It was burning against my skin, bright red.

  He crossed the room to get to me, reaching out a hand but not quite touching me. "May I?"

  I held my hand away from him, glaring. "No. I want it right now. I'm not done being mad at you."

  Dragging a hand through his hair, he shot me a hard look. "I’m sorry, Blair, but I'm not going to let you hurt her. I have a soft spot for her, you have to understand that."

  "Why?"

  He took my hand then, not waiting for me to give it to him, and pressed his lips against the brand.

  I felt the rage fade away to nothingness, the euphoric sensation sweeping over me, and had to bite back the moan that rose to my lips. I flushed, humiliated by the reaction. The sense of belonging.

  It's not me, it's the brand. I told myself, only half believing it.

  "Because," he said, straightening up. His voice was husky. He tucked a stray bit of hair behind my ear. "You have a soft spot for me."

  He bent his head and brushed a kiss across my lips.

  I felt my stomach clench.

  The memory of our first kiss assailed me, the taste of him, and damn it all to hell, I wanted it again.<
br />
  No, I'm mad at him.

  Would you kill him, if the situation was the same? Would you let someone put him down, if you knew you could save him?

  Damn him.

  He hadn't moved, his lips hovering over mine. Our breath mingled in the scant air between us, tension rippling through the room.

  "Mal..." I said, hesitating.

  I was going to tell him to move away.

  Say it.

  He wrapped a strong arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and kissed me again. His lips crushed mine, teeth forcing my mouth open so that he could take what he wanted from me, his tongue invading my mouth.

  I melted against him, opening willingly, and thrusting my tongue against his in turn. He tasted the same, cinnamon, and whisky and so intoxicating that I couldn't stop myself.

  He pressed me against the door behind me, a hand on either side of my head, his body flush against mine. I felt the stark evidence of his arousal against my hip. A small moan escaped me.

  His hand went to my waist.

  Wait.

  No, go away, let me have this.

  But it was too late, my sanity was returning.

  "Stop." I gasped against his lips.

  He was several feet away from me before another word left my mouth. Desire was rampant in his eyes, and I could tell that he was battling with himself to keep away from me, to stop from plundering my mouth and taking all that he wanted from me.

  His muscles twitched with the effort to stay away.

  "Blair," he said, the sound torn from his throat. I could hear the need in his voice.

  My heart thundered against my chest, the need raging in my blood and telling me to go to him, but the sane part of my brain told me it was a horrible idea, and was already chiding me for what I had done. I didn't want to care, I didn't want to stop myself, I just wanted to go to him and resume what he had started.

  I panted, forcing myself to remain by the door. It was quite possibly the hardest thing I had ever done.

  "You can't do that, Mal," I said at last, my voice hoarse. I lifted a hand to my swollen lips, the memory of his kiss haunting me.

  But you want him!

  I can't.

  You do.

  "You did not mind that once upon a time," he said, his own breath coming in short little gasps.

  My cheeks burned. He meant the kiss in the apartment, of course. That had been different, the euphoria of the moment had been from the power he had granted me, nothing more. He had read too much into it.

  But that didn't explain my reaction to him now, there was nothing for me to blame that on. He had just tamped down the craziness that had been coming from the mark on my wrist, so I couldn't use that as an excuse. That had been all me, wanting him.

  I told myself it was ridiculous to expect anything else. He was a gorgeous, sinful man. Anyone would be crazy not to want him, it was just natural. You couldn't look at an angel and not be struck by their beauty, it wasn't a fair situation to be in.

  That's all it was.

  "You can't do that," I said again, putting more force into my voice this time.

  "And why the hell not?" His eyebrows jumped up. "You want me. You and Shawn aren't exclusive, I spoke to him."

  He spoke to Shawn? Of course, Shawn hadn't had a problem with it, we'd talked about that already. We weren't exclusive, just two friends having fun and enjoying each other. But I hadn't expected Mal to cover his bases like that.

  I shook my head. "That's not the point." I glared at him. "The point is, you're Fallen. You've spent the past several days reminding me of that fact, that I should be afraid of you, that you don't have any respect for mortals, and that you can't control what you are. You can't turn around and expect me to be OK with any of that, and guess what, I'm not. I'm not OK with any of the decisions you have made, and I'm not going to change my mind on this. You're Fallen, Mal. This isn't going to happen."

  It was the truth. You couldn't trust a demon further than you could throw them, and all my sparring with Mal had taught me I couldn't throw him to save my ass. He was bad news, and I'd be a fool to get involved with him.

  He wiped a hand across his lips slowly, as if to rid himself of the taste of me.

  Why did that hurt?

  "I see," he said, his words clipped. "I am sorry to have upset you, then."

  I quieted my breathing, forcing my chest to stop rising and falling so rapidly. "I'm fine. We were...we were talking about your ex," I said, wanting the conversation to go back to normal. "I can understand why you did what you did. What are we going to do about it?"

  He looked at me oddly. "We're going to fix her, of course. If you've calmed down, I'll even take you to her."

  41

  My stomach was doing little flip flops as we rode up the elevator to the penthouse of an apartment building classier than anything I'd ever been in. And not just because I was afraid of frying the elevator—I didn't have a good track record with elevators, the electronics weren't overly fond of magic, and I had fried a good number of them. It was more than that though. Mal was bringing me to the penthouse he'd rented, I didn't know when he'd done that or if he'd just grabbed it as a place to stash the succubus, so that we could take a look at her together and figure out what to do.

  I was nervous about being around the succubus again, she'd tried to eat me after all, but I was also nervous about going into Mal's place. Excepting the dreamscape he'd created, I'd never been somewhere that was entirely his, never entered his domain, and I needed to ensure I'd keep my head about me.

  That kiss couldn't happen again, no matter how much my body clamoured for a repeat of the earlier events. Maybe if I'd had some downtime to adjust and think about it I would be OK, but we had come straight here from my house. There had been no breathing time.

  "Are you ready for this?" Mal turned to me as the elevator reached his floor, the doors opening wide. He'd had to put his key into the elevator in order to get here, and now I could see why. It had opened up directly into the suite, there was no hall to walk down and no door to go through.

  I swallowed, avoiding his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn't dare meet his eyes. I felt so awkward now, I didn't know where we stood and all I wanted to do was talk to him about it—make sure that we were OK and that he wasn't going to let this change the tenuous friendship we had started together. But I was afraid to bring it up again, afraid that would push him further away.

  He didn't say anything, just walked into the apartment, and I followed after him.

  I was struck by the elegance of the living room that we entered. It was extravagant, with luxurious couches in the centre, facing one another, a priceless glass coffee table in-between them, matching side tables on either side of the couches, and various different styles of artwork on the wall. I hadn't expected any of this.

  I don't know what I had been expecting, maybe the same style of iniquity that had been the flavour of the party we'd attended. Garish pictures on the wall, leather couches, a bachelor pad.

  He continued to surprise me.

  "I don't want you to expect her to be perfect right out of the gate," he said as we walked. "I've only had her for a few hours, and the detox could take years. I have no idea. I've never done anything like this, but I don't see any reason why it wouldn't be like a normal detox."

  I nodded my head. "It's an addiction. If she wants to, she can beat it."

  It sounded weird, to be talking about her getting through this when we had just been thinking of killing her. It had been maybe an hour since I'd had my wand out and pointed at her heart, ready to end her and move on from this horror show. Now I was talking about 'making her better.'

  Something in my gut told me that addicts couldn't be fixed.

  An ugly memory of a foster father who drank too much and beat me when he was bored sprang to mind—he'd never wanted to change, hadn't seen a thing wrong with the way he abused me.

  I'd been lucky mos
t nights, I could lock myself in my room until he drank himself to sleep. When I wasn't fast enough, though...

  I shivered, chasing away the memory and focusing on the now. There was no point in dwelling on the past, it couldn't be changed.

  Mal led me into a spare room, unfurnished, and in the far corner was the succubus. Chained to the wall.

  Her blonde hair was tattered, a lank mat hanging around her shoulders and drifting down to her waist. She didn't look like the glorious goddess that had been before me just an hour ago; she looked like the drug addict she was. Her eyes were wide, wild, and rimmed with red. Dark circles marred her skin beneath her eyes, her cheeks were sunken in, and her arms looked frail.

  She locked her eyes on me, refused to look away, and I could see the saliva building in her mouth.

  Hunger.

  I clenched my jaw and lifted my chin, looking down at her with disdain. She was a poor excuse for a creature, and my skin crawled at the idea of working with her.

  Yet, I could not deny the curiosity that built within me. At the compound, it was almost as if she had recognised me, her eyes had been so clear and there had been such knowledge there. It was like the woman beneath had broken through the haze that had to be clouding her mind, and she had seen me for the first time.

  Would she recognise me again?

  I walked towards her.

  "Blair, I don't think that's a good idea..." Mal cautioned me, his fingers feathering against the exposed skin of my shoulder. I hadn't changed out of the shirt she had torn to shreds.

  "What's her name?" I didn't bother telling him not to tell me what to do. He knew better by now, ignoring his warning was enough.

  "Lilith," he said with a sigh.

  I started, turning to look back at him. "Not...not, the Lilith?" My eyes were wide, my mind racing. Lilith was a creature of legend, a woman who had been written out of the biblical records because she was such a game changer. The original wife of Adam, she had refused to bow to him, refused to be anything other than an equal. She had been cast out of the Garden, cursed to a life of pain and misery.

  There was no way I could be standing in the same room as her. There was no way I had almost killed her.