“Is it that she feeds your power? Is her lust stronger than most?” Belial demanded relentlessly. “Is it magnified by her witchcraft? Or is it her innocence you seek? Surely with such power as you gained from reaping that you could regain your wyrm form or perhaps even cultivate an even more powerful one.”
I held my breath, hoping Laish would say no. That he would tell the other demon that I had a hold on him because he cared for me—not just because he wanted to use me like a battery to recharge. Or take my virginity to feed his own power. Or worst of all, suck up my soul. But I heard no such thing.
“I do not wish to speak further of this matter,” Laish replied shortly.
“But, my Lord—”
“I said I will not speak of it further.” Laish’s voice dropped to a menacing growl.
“Yes, my Lord.” I imagined Belial doing his awkward bow again.
I couldn’t help thinking that he had seemed like such a nice, kindly old demon—before I heard him telling Laish he should have given me to the Skitterlings or use me in some unspeakable way. I guessed appearances could be deceiving.
“In that case, I will leave you for the evening,” I heard him tell Laish. “Perhaps we can take council tomorrow before you and the young lady set out again.”
“Perhaps. But I do not intend to set out again immediately. I have taken precautions that should allow us to rest here for at least two nights. Gwendolyn has had a very difficult time during our journey so far—she needs to regain her strength.”
Well, it was nice to know he was thinking of me even if he didn’t know why he liked me. For some reason the thought put a lump in my throat—which was stupid. Like I wanted a demon to care for me. Like he would even be able to care. He doesn’t have a soul, remember? I told myself. What did you expect?
Well, something more than this, anyway. Especially after he’d been so sweet and kind and caring and protective. After he acted like I actually mattered to him. After he made me care… Suddenly I was ready to get out of the tub.
I pulled the plug and stepped out, grabbing a thick, white towel I’d placed at the tub’s edge before sinking down into the bubbles. I’d been in for so long my fingers had begun to get all pruney—I hate that. I told myself that was why I felt so miserable as I dried myself off briskly and wrapped the towel around me.
Laish knocked at the door just as I finished securing the towel.
“Gwendolyn? May I come in?”
“Don’t bother—I’m coming out,” I said. I opened the bathroom door and stepped past him into the living area between the bathroom and the bedroom. It had several comfortable looking black leather couches and, of course, the ubiquitous fireplace. That made sense, since Laish was a fire demon. Not that fire was his only source of power, I reminded myself unhappily.
“You are finished with your bath already?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh yes—I’ve been in there for ages. I think I must have fallen asleep,” I said, which wasn’t a total lie. “Why—how long have you been back in the room?” I asked, as casually as I could. “I thought you had business to attend to?” No point in letting him know I’d overheard his conversation.
“I attended to it.” He came forward and put his hands on my shoulders. “Now I would very much like to attend to you. You look beautiful wearing only a towel.”
The night before his touch and the desire in his ruby red eyes had made me quiver. Now they left me cold.
“Thanks but I don’t think I need attending to,” I said lightly, stepping away from his hands. “Especially if you’re talking about paying the Sin Tax.”
He frowned. “As a matter of fact, we do not have to pay the tax tonight. I have made arrangements so that we can spend at least two nights here, relaxing and regaining our strength.”
“That sounds great,” I said, trying to smile. But I didn’t think an extra night would matter to me. Two nights or two hundred or two thousand—I didn’t care how long we were here, I didn’t want him touching me when he didn’t even know himself how he felt about me. When I had no idea what his motives were.
“Well, as you are not interested in paying the tax, perhaps I can tempt some of your other appetites,” Laish murmured, withdrawing the little black-handled knife from his pocket. “There are night clothes laid out for you in the bedroom but before you go to change, please tell me what you’d like for dinner.”
I suddenly remembered what Belial had said about the Sacrifice of Blood being painful—agony, he had called it, hadn’t he? My stomach turned over at the thought.
“Thanks but I’m really not hungry,” I said, shaking my head. “Please don’t hurt yourself on my behalf.”
Laish frowned. “Gwendolyn, what is this about? You haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning.”
“But it was a big breakfast,” I protested. “Really, I’m fine. Just not hungry.”
“Gwendolyn—”
“All I really want to do is curl up with a good book and get an early night,” I said, interrupting him. “In fact, I found several that interested me but I left them in your library. Do you mind if I go get them?”
He looked like he wanted to say more—to get to the bottom of what was going on between us—but to my relief, he simply nodded.
“Go. Anything you find in the library is yours to keep if you like it.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I said grudgingly. “I may take you up on it—I noticed you have some rare spell books Grams would love.”
“They are yours, mon ange.” He spread his hands. “Everything I have is yours.”
Except your heart, I thought, but didn’t say. After all, it wasn’t fair to want him to fall in love with me, even if he could. It wasn’t like I could return the emotion.
“Thank you,” I said, nodding, and went into the bedroom to get dressed.
Laish must not have anticipated my reluctance to pay the tax with him that night. Or maybe he just wanted to dress me in something sexy for his own enjoyment. Whichever the reason, the nighty he’d conjured me was just short of obscene. It was all in white—of course—with low cut French lace panties and a babydoll cut top that tied right between my breasts and fell just to my upper thighs. The only saving grace was that it had a long-sleeved white silk gown to go with it. I belted it tightly before slipping out the bedroom door and going softly down the long corridor to the library.
Someone had set a fire in the fireplace and it was crackling merrily as I stepped into the big, empty room. The light it shed didn’t reach the ceiling, however, which was a black mass of shadows. I couldn’t help feeling eerie about being in the huge, dim space all by myself.
I told myself to stop being a coward and walked firmly over to the red leather couch. There were the books, just where I had left them. Instead of picking them up and taking them back to the room, I settled in the corner of the couch and opened one of the spell books. The red leather was warm from the heat of the fire and soon I had lost myself in an incantation for returning hidden things to their proper form.
I don’t know how long I read but something half seen from the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked up quickly and a flash of kaleidoscope colors met my gaze.
“The mirror—it’s the Mirror of the Eye,” whispered a warning little voice in my ear. “Look away quick, Gwendolyn!”
But when I tried, I found I couldn’t look away—I was trapped.
The first thing I saw was Laish, staring back at me with his ruby red eyes. There was a look on his face I couldn’t read. Then, almost as suddenly as his image had appeared, the kaleidoscope colors swirled and he was gone.
Still trapped in the mirror’s spell, I saw a girl with pale blonde hair—so light it was almost white—and eyes the color of lilacs. She had on a long white robe and some kind of feathery stole that wrapped around her shoulders.
“Gwendolyn,” she whispered. “Help me! Help me get out of here. If you cannot send me back to my home, then send me to the
Mortal Realm. Anyplace is better than here where he might find me. Don’t let him take me back! Don’t let him hurt me—please!”
“Who are you?” I whispered but the girl’s image was already fading. In its place was the figure of a man—a man I felt I knew even though I didn’t recognize his face. In fact, I couldn’t even actually see his face—no matter how hard I looked, the features refused to become clear to me.
Suddenly, I knew who it was.
“Shadowlock!” I whispered through numb lips. He was the warlock who Celeste, Taylor’s vampire mistress, had hired to do the spell which was to have transferred Taylor’s power to her. He was one of the strongest warlocks in the country—if not the strongest. I had felt his immense power that night he did the spell because he’d put a barrier around Taylor which we had to break through to rescue her. His reputation was well deserved.
Shadowlock looked the same way he had the one and only time I’d laid eyes on him, though I had seen him only momentarily after I had opened the door to the Abyss and pulled Taylor back from the pit. At the time I’d been so drained of power I could barely move—stealing a soul away from the edge of eternity is incredibly tiring. He’d been standing in the moonlight looking at me—maybe sizing up the competition—before he turned and stalked away.
He was a big guy—very muscular and as he had been that night, he was wearing a plaid shirt, tight, faded jeans, and worn boots. He seemed to have the whole Texas cowboy thing going on—at least according to Taylor. She’d said he had a thick drawl that matched his boots and jeans. I’d found the idea of a country-boy warlock funny before but now I just stared at him. Why was the mirror showing me this? What point was it trying to make?
The Shadowlock in the mirror tipped his cowboy hat at me.
“Hey there, sweetheart—what can I do for you?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t even know why I’m seeing you—or if you’re real.”
He frowned—at least I thought he did. It was hard to tell with the face-obscuring spell that hid his features.
“Oh, I’m real, darlin’. The question is, am I dreaming of you or are you dreaming of me?”
“Dreaming?” I whispered. “This is no dream. This is—”
But just then the image in the mirror changed again.
This time it showed me the picture of a girl—a girl with skin my color or a little darker and wild, untamed black hair. She was huddled in a corner with her back to me so at first I didn’t know who it was. But then someone else came into the room with her.
“Get up!” The tall man with one gold tooth in the front and baggy jeans that sagged and showed his boxers was immediately and hatefully familiar to me. He had greasy brown hair that hung in his face and mean eyes the color of mud. “Get up, bitch,” he barked at the girl again. When she didn’t respond, he kicked her hard in the ribs.
A sharp, hurt noise came from the girl and she began to get laboriously to her feet. But she wasn’t moving fast enough for the man.
“I said get up, you fucking whore!” Reaching for her arm, he yanked her upright and slapped her cheek, rocking her head back on her neck.
“Sorry,” the girl moaned. “Just tired, Ray…so tired.” She turned her head and at last I saw her face.
“Keisha,” I whispered, my throat tight with unshed tears. My little sister’s face looked much older than it should. There were lines around her eyes and mouth and a fresh bruise on one cheekbone. When she opened her mouth, I saw that two of her front teeth were missing and there was a cold sore blooming on her bottom lip.
“Sorry,” she mumbled again, looking up at the man who had her by the arm. “Just sleepy is all.”
“You better wake the fuck up, Keisha,” he snapped, shaking her. “I got two guys here that like to share. Don’t you fucking disappoint them or you won’t get your taste tonight—understand?”
“Aww, c’mon, Ray,” she mumbled. “You promised no more two-fers. Those hurt.”
“I don’t give a good Goddamn if it hurts. You earn your fix around here, baby. Earn it or get out on the street. And how long do you think you’d last without somebody to take care of you? Huh?”
“Okay, all right…” Keisha had begun to cry now. “I’ll do it—I’ll do it. Just don’t kick me out, Ray. You know I need you, right?”
“You don’t need that bastard, Keisha,” I whispered fiercely. I was crying too—tears of pain and rage rolling down my face. I hadn’t seen my little sister for almost a year—her pimp wouldn’t let Grams and me near her. We had tried everything to save her—from magic to rehab—but somehow she always went back to him. To him and the miserable life of prostitution he’d forced her into. It was the drugs—I knew it was. They had a hold on her so strong that nothing could get her off them permanently—not while he was still there to give them to her.
Of course she might have had a chance to kick the habit if Ray was out of the way. If he wasn’t always there with a free “taste” of her favorite drug waiting just for her.
He has to die, I thought and knew it was true. This was the reason I’d been working so hard on the revenge spell. This was who I wanted to punish—even at the cost of my own soul. Until this evil bastard died I could never reclaim my little sister. Until I killed him, she would never be free.
I felt the will to kill building inside me—the dark power flooding my body—and I welcomed it. Forget about complicated revenge spells—I was in Hell now. There was more than enough evil energy to call on. Enough hate and rage and murderous intent to fill me to the brim—to overflowing.
I felt the ball of dark power building inside me. I had never killed a human being before—never sacrificed the hornless goat as witches call it—but I was more than ready now. Somehow I knew that if I could just gather enough evil energy I could reach through the mirror and get him. I pictured myself shoving my hand into his chest and taking that foul, black, twisted lump he called a heart in my hand. And then I would squeeze and squeeze until it popped like an overripe tomato between my fingers. Until he screeched and screamed and fell, writhing to the floor, living that last few seconds of his life in agony until I snuffed him out forever…
I was up on my feet before I knew it and moving towards the mirror.
Yes, I seemed to hear something whisper. Yes, come to me…come closer…touch it…
I lifted my hand, focusing all the negative energy I’d gathered into a tight ball. I would use this power to force my fingers through the magic mirror and into Ray’s hateful chest. I would—
But just as my fingertips were almost brushing the cool surface of the mirror, the picture of my sister and her pimp faded. In its place was a creature out of a nightmare—my nightmare. A creature without a head and yet somehow it still had a mouth—a mouth with long, jagged, yellow teeth. A stump of a tongue writhed in its gaping maw as it reached for me, longing to suck out my soul.
I felt its hot, fetid breath on my fingertips and tried to pull back but I couldn’t stop—couldn’t get away. My heart pounded fiercely and a scream broke from my lips as my hand was drawn inexorably forward, into the mirror…into the HellSpawn’s hungry mouth…
Suddenly Laish was at my side.
“Gwendolyn?” he asked and then seemed to realize what was happening. He shouted a word of power aloud that made me feel like someone had driven spikes into my ears. With an angry hiss, the HellSpawn vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. The mirror went blank and only the dancing shadows and firelight could be seen reflected in its cracked surface.
Freed of its spell at last, I sank back against the couch, a sob rising in my throat. Goddess, that had been so close!
“Gwendolyn, what were you doing? What were you thinking?” Laish had me by the shoulders. He looked down at me, giving me a quick, angry shake. Then he pulled me to him, pressing my face to his broad, bare chest. “Mon ange,” he murmured in a deep, broken voice. “I thought I’d lost you—what possessed you to do such a thing?”
“My l
ittle sister—I saw her.” I pushed away from him, but I was unable to keep the words from spilling out. “And he was hurting her—he was going to make her…make her do…” I shook my head, unable to continue. Unable to speak aloud the shame and degradation Keisha was doubtless enduring even now.
“The mirror showed you your sister?” He frowned, clearly not understanding.
“And her pimp! She’s a drug addict,” I shouted at him. “And a…a prostitute! And it’s all his fault—that bastard. He hooked her on the drugs—he makes her whore herself out to get them! If he was dead, she might have a chance to get free. If I could kill him—”
“If you could kill him?” His ruby eyes narrowed and filled with understanding. “Ah, now I see. This is the man your spell was meant for. This is why you were willing to risk your immortal soul.”
“Now you know,” I snapped. “Are you happy now? Does it make you feel superior to know my dirty little secret?”
“What secret?” he asked quietly. “That you love so intensely and care so deeply you are willing to do anything to save those you love? That is no secret to me, mon ange. I only wish I could count myself among their numbers.”
“Yeah, right.” I tried to pull away from his grip on my arms but he wouldn’t let me. “Let me go!” I yelled. “Don’t talk to me about love—you don’t know the meaning of the word!”
“You think not?” His voice was still quiet, introspective. “Once I would have agreed with you—now I am not so sure.” He frowned. “But I do know what danger you’ve put yourself in. I felt you gathering evil energy into yourself—what were you thinking, opening yourself to such forces?”
“What do you care?” I snapped sullenly. “Afraid I’ll stain my soul before you can suck it out of me?”
“Suck it out of you?” He frowned. “What are you—”
“I heard your conversation with Belial through the bathroom door,” I told him, my voice rising with anger. “I heard how he told you that you should have left me to the Skitterlings and kept your dragon form.”
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