by J. N. Colon
Caleb!
I bolted forward, my heart tapping out a frantic beat as I ignored every blast of pain ricocheting in my body. That monster would not take Caleb’s soul.
An energy ball formed in my palm, and I slammed it into the nearest demon.
Another came at me.
I ducked, whipping the magical hilt out of my pocket. “Saor.” The sword materialized just in time to slash the demon’s head off, black blood spraying the gravel.
As I ran, a haze distorted everything except the demon slowly killing Caleb.
If I didn’t get to him in time…
No. I couldn’t even think like that.
A battle cry exploded from my mouth, and I jammed the sword into the demon’s back.
He tumbled off Caleb, crashing to the ground and grabbing at the wound in his torso. “You’re going to pay,” he sputtered.
Fury lashed through my veins as I glared at the bartender from Pulse. “No, you are, Suric. And if he dies, you’ll wish you had too.” I stabbed his gut and twisted the blade to tear the gash wider.
Suric’s anguished shriek fell on deaf ears as I caught sight of Caleb’s white pallor.
Oh, gods.
I yanked the sword out of the demon’s abdomen, and the blade fell from my grip with a clatter as I dropped to my knees. “Caleb!” I shook him. “Caleb, get up!”
There was no response.
My hands trembled, and I couldn’t force my lungs to work. “Don’t die on me, stupid ass. You can’t.” My fingers pressed into his neck, barely finding a pulse. That bastard sucked enough of the prince’s soul to kill him.
But Caleb wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
My head angled to the struggling demon clutching his gaping wound. “Return his soul,” I ground out.
A bitter laugh escaped Suric’s mouth, ebony blood oozing down his chin. “That’s not how it works, sweetie. I can’t just hand it back. It’s giving me life as we speak.”
“Then, I’ll just rip that life right out of you.” I inched toward him and slapped my hand on his cheek as my death powers rushed to the surface. My lungs dragged in a ragged breath. There had to be a way to save the prince.
I could kill with a single touch. I could wake the dead. I could do a million other insane things, so why couldn’t I return Caleb’s soul?
Soon, his chest would cease to rise, and his heart would stop. Those pouty lips starring in way too many of my fantasies would turn cold and blue. He’d never give me that stupid smirk again. And he’d never run his thumb over the scar slicing my eyebrow or kiss the freckle on my chin.
I laid my other hand on Caleb’s cheek, his skin already too chilled for my liking. He was a dead man if I didn’t try something. The Arx talisman around his neck would protect him from my gift of death.
Suric groaned beneath my debilitating touch. “W-What are you doing?”
“Drawing his soul out of you.” I sensed Caleb’s essence still full of life within the demon’s darkness.
“Y-You can’t do that,” Suric sputtered.
I leaned toward him, my mouth curled into a vicious snarl. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Every ounce of color drained from the demon as black veins slid across his flesh. He would die. And I didn’t care.
This time, I’d willingly pay the price for death.
I yanked on that little piece of life still fighting the ugly void inside of Suric. As I clutched it, wrapping magic around it, Caleb stirred.
Suric convulsed, and his mouth wrenched open, a lustrous light swirling into the cold night air.
Blood thundered in my ears as part of Caleb’s soul followed my direction back to its owner. His mouth opened, allowing the misty cloud to sink back inside.
As death came for him, Suric’s black irises slowly faded to dull blue, staring at me with a million accusations.
He was an evil monster.
And maybe I was too.
I snatched my hand off the demon’s sallow cheek and forced back the dizzying high that always hit me after a kill. “Caleb?” I crawled closer, gently shaking him. “Caleb?” My voice cracked, and I bit my quivering lip.
Please, don’t be dead.
A deep breath suddenly filled his lungs as his chest expanded. His lids fluttered open, those haunting green eyes finding me. “Thorn?” he croaked.
A ragged gasp slipped out, and I threw my hand over my mouth to stop any more from breaching the atmosphere.
The fae prince slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings, including the lifeless demon sprawled next to him. The others were either dead or had fled. “What happened?” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I saw you get tossed and then this asshole—”
I shoved his shoulder. “You almost died! That’s what happened.” Before I could rein in my emotions, I launched into his arms.
Shit. Did I really just do that?
Caleb hesitated briefly, and then he pulled me into a tight embrace. “It would take a hell of a lot more than a couple of demons to kill me, Rose Thorn.”
For once, I didn’t hate that nickname, not when just a few minutes ago I feared I’d never hear it again.
“You’re lucky I was here to save your ass, Tinkerbell.” I blinked hard and choked back the unshed tears threatening to fall. I was acting ridiculous. We were barely more than enemies.
That didn’t stop me from snuggling into his arms and inhaling his fragrant scent, though.
“I guess I should say thank you.” A quick brush of Caleb’s lips registered on my cheek. “And I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what?
He drew back and climbed to his feet, bringing me with him. The rooftop swam. I lifted my hand to my forehead, coming away with blood. That damn metal air duct had nearly knocked me unconscious.
Caleb’s fingers captured my chin as he studied my face. “You’ve got a pretty nasty cut.”
“I’m fine.” I ticked my head toward the broken pieces of plastic that had been my phone. “I don’t suppose yours survived the battle. Since our stealthy approach failed, we should get some backup before rescuing the necromancer.”
“No such luck.” His hand fell away, and he grabbed his sword, sliding it into the sheath on his back. “Let’s get the hell off this roof. There’s a communication rune I can use to send my father our location hidden on the back of that building.” He pointed to a boarded-up pizza joint down the street.
I retrieved my sword from the ground. “Folaigh.” With a whoosh, the blade disappeared, and I stowed it in my pocket.
Getting off this roof sounded like a marvelous idea. I felt too exposed and way too vulnerable—for more than one reason. My sanity had taken a short vacation while Caleb was knocking on death’s door.
“Come on.” The feel of his hand wrapping around mine yanked me out of my troubling thoughts.
Heat blossomed in my cheeks as the prince tugged me to the ladder, but he released his hold and began descending the wobbly rungs without noticing my embarrassing blush.
I followed, hiding my face behind my long curtain of violet hair that had fallen free of the ponytail holder.
Get a damn grip, Thorn. The Unseelie prince didn’t die. I didn’t lose him.
How could I lose something I never really had, though?
This strange truce between us wouldn’t last long. Technically, we were enemies, and as soon as we rescued the necromancer and brought the demons to the council, there would be no reason for us to ever see each other again.
The thought of saying goodbye left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Once he touched the bottom, Caleb reached out to help me down.
“I’m quite capable of making it to the ground myself.” I scowled as he grabbed my hips and pulled me off the last step.
A grin curled that ridiculously sexy mouth. “Maybe I just wanted to cop a feel.”
He was full of shit, but I was glad he didn’t point out the faint tremors racing through my body. Killing Suric
and saving Caleb took more out of me than I’d bargained for.
How would the prince feel if he knew I yanked his soul out of a demon and shoved it back into him?
Caleb took a few steps down the alley. “An entire team of fae sentries will surround the warehouse in no time. I just hope it’s not too late.”
His form blurred, and I wavered toward the ground. Shit. The head injury mixed with a death raker kill had finally caught up full force. “Caleb, I—”
An iron grip wrapped around my neck and yanked me into a hard, muscled frame.
My pulse soared through the stratosphere. Before my brain could command my limbs or magic to fight back, my jacket sleeve was wrenched up, and a meaty hand jammed a familiar cylinder device into my arm.
A scream ripped my throat apart as the witch dampener branded the cursed sigil on my skin again.
Caleb rushed forward, wind whipping through the side street. Whatever had blocked his powers earlier was gone.
It didn’t matter, though.
I dropped to my knees as the debilitating loss of my magic registered.
“Let her go.” The prince’s threatening voice bounced against the brick walls, and the hand digging into my shoulder flinched.
But the demon didn’t release me. “No can do, Prince Caleb.”
“Get out of here.” My voice seeped out as a whisper instead of the fierce command I’d meant it to be.
Fat fingers slithered into my hair, jerking my head back. A cap of corn-silk hair brushed sharp cheekbones, and the ominous twist of the demon’s lips sent ice through my veins. He didn’t look a day over twenty-two with his glamour and could have stepped right off an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.
But his true form would send humans fleeing in horror.
“Yes, leave the little witch with us.” He tsked. “She’s been a bad girl. I see more torture in her future.”
“I’m not going anywhere without her,” Caleb snarled.
Damn it. Why was he being so stupid?
“Then I guess you’re coming with us.” The demon flicked his hand, and footsteps pounded on the cracking concrete as more Underworld creatures materialized out of the darkness. “Do you surrender, Prince Caleb?”
One of the new arrivals carried a hefty pair of restraints.
I tried to shake my head, but the grasp tightened on my hair, searing my scalp.
Caleb’s eyes never left mine. “I surrender.” He didn’t even flinch as a curvy female demon strapped the magical cuffs on his wrist.
“Hi, prince,” she purred, running her finger down his bicep as her voluptuous boobs—barely contained by the navy crop top—pressed into his chest. “You were right, Tate. He didn’t run.”
“I’m always right, Giovanna.” Tate hauled me to my feet, his grip bruising my already throbbing arm. “Cyria’s going to be very pleased to have her prisoner returned along with the fae that helped her escape.”
He shoved me into Caleb hard enough that my forehead smacked against his shoulder, shooting pain across my skull. I clutched his biceps to keep from hitting the ground.
“Get moving!” Tate pushed us toward the mouth of the alley.
Caleb narrowed his frigid stare at the demon but heeded his command and trudged down the cracked asphalt with me in tow. “We’ll get out of this,” he whispered over the clanking of the magical shackles around his wrists.
Neither of us had our powers, I could barely stand, and these two lackeys were dragging us to the demon queen.
How the hell would we make it out of this alive?
Chapter 27
Thick restraints banded around my body so tight each shallow inhale turned into a chore, and the sigil on my arm throbbed with every frantic beat of my heart. But the worst part of being captured was the absence of my powers.
No. The worst part was Caleb chained to the chair behind me.
Why hadn’t the idiot run when he had the chance?
“How are you doing back there?” His husky voice slipped over my shoulder as he gently nudged his head against mine.
I choked back the gag clawing up my throat from the scent of rot and death clogging the air. A pile of human bodies continued to decay in the corner of the warehouse next to a rusted forklift.
How many victims had Cyria claimed in the name of power and greed?
“I’ve been worse.” Ellexia was a stickler for hands-on learning. “You should have gotten away,” I muttered, staring at my boots kicking up eddies of dust as I shifted.
Caleb grunted. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone without magic or weapons.”
Several demons guarded the exits while a few walked the perimeter, their attention locked on us or the necromancer. Tate and Giovanna sat at a folding table, examining objects tucked inside of a large leather satchel. The magic dampener loomed by Tate’s right elbow like a threat.
They’d stripped us of every knife and dagger before dragging us into the dilapidated building. Dingy hanging bulbs poured sallow light across my torn jeans and the ripped shirt still damp from my blood.
“Besides, they would have caught me anyway,” the prince continued. “Demons were crawling over the area like ants by then.”
True, but maybe he could have made it to a fae rune to call for backup to rescue the necromancer.
Cyria turned her vivid blue stare on the necromancer. “Are you almost done, Helena?”
The witch carefully angled a black candle until it rested perfectly centered between two other black wax pillars. “In just a moment.”
“About time,” the demon queen muttered, her spiky stilettos clacking on the filthy concrete. The painted-on leather pants and satin corset encasing her voluptuous curves left little to the imagination.
Helena narrowed her sharp emerald eyes at Cyria. “A spell like this takes time, and the preparations need to be flawless. Anything could go wrong.” Long red tresses brushed across her gauzy black blouse showing peeks of porcelain skin as she leaned over to adjust another candle.
The necromancer didn’t look a day over twenty-five, but even with my powers buried further than the bottom of the Grand Canyon, I could tell the magic in her was much older.
She wasn’t a witch to mess with, so how had Cyria forced her into performing a wakening spell?
“Can’t you find a way to get us out of here?” I hissed to the fellow witch. “You don’t have to do this, even if you made a blood oath. We’ll find a way around it.”
If I could put Caleb’s soul back in his body, surely I could trick our way out of a blood oath.
Helena’s tinkling laughter bounced against the corrugated metal walls and the rotting plywood nailed to most of the windows. “Young, naive witch. I didn’t make any kind of oath with the demon queen.”
Blood drained from my extremities, and my shoulders slumped. “What?” There had to be a mistake. She wouldn’t do this of her own free will.
The necromancer slinked toward a folding metal table and reached into an ebony canvas bag, plucking a jar containing a white lily. She set it next to a thick, weathered grimoire. “When an opportunity presents itself—no matter the source—I snatch it before anyone else can.”
“You know what will happen, though.” A bitter taste spilled over my tongue, momentarily masking the death in the air. How could she be so callous?
She flicked her hand toward the dead converts in the corner, the city lights streaming in through the few remaining broken windows and highlighting the gaping holes in their chests. “I’m well aware.”
My molars ground so hard the vibrations rattled my jaw. “Those people were innocent humans. And now you could be putting even more humans in danger by bringing the dead back.”
“She doesn’t care.” Caleb’s voice rumbled against my back. “Do you, witch?”
The necromancer’s scarlet lips curved into a disturbing grin. “Not one bit.” With the snap of her fingers, the dozens of candles placed around the cavernous room flared to life. “I couldn’t care less abou
t any human in this forsaken city. I just want the items Cyria has agreed to hand over as payment.”
The demon queen stopped pacing and grabbed a bottle of wine Giovanna offered from a bag by her chair. “Tate, have you finished recording the inventory of items to be bestowed upon the necromancer?” She yanked the cork out with an echoing thunk and poured a generous amount of burgundy liquid into a wine glass.
Tate bowed his head, stirring pale blond strands around his flawless face. “Yes, my queen.” He tapped a leather-bound journal between him and Giovanna.
“Excellent.” Cyria flicked her hand, and a beastly demon with tall, curling horns emerged from the shadows. “Damien, bring it to me.”
He grabbed the leather satchel from Tate and stomped toward the queen, gently dropping the bag at her feet. His head tilted to angle his horns at Helena as if to say she’d meet the pointy ends if she double-crossed his queen.
Cyria patted his wide shoulder before turning her attention to the necromancer. “You’ll receive the items as soon as the spell is complete.”
My blood chilled to arctic levels. Which mystical objects did the queen have to part with to appease the necromancer? They were dangerous in demon hands, but I didn’t want them to wind up in the clutches of a skilled dark witch either.
“Fine.” Helena turned to the table, running her finger down the grimoire. “I’ll need the dagger of Astrix now.”
Cyria set the glass of wine on Giovanna and Tate’s table and drew the cursed dagger from her jacket pocket, her thumb running over the massive onyx stone inlaid in the ornate hilt. Hesitating, her gaze cut to Helena with a wary glint.
The witch wiggled her fingers without glancing away from the book. “I can’t do the spell without it.”
Cyria huffed and marched over, slapping it in her outstretched palm. Before Helena could take it, the queen wrapped her fingers around her wrist. “I don’t need to remind you of the consequences if you do anything other than what I’ve asked for, do I?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Helena yanked her hand back, sneering at the queen. “Just go sit down and drink your wine while I handle the hard work.”