Wild Game (Codex Blair Book 4)

by Izzy Shows

  "I'm an abusive parent," I said, a psychotic laugh bubbling up and out of my chest.

  "No, you're not," he said, coming to sit beside me, and putting a hand on my back. "You're doing what's necessary. I don't like it, and I'm sure you don't either. And I don't make it any easier on you when I fight you in there. It's just ... it's hard to see her hurting."

  I shook my head. "You don't know what it's like, to be on the other end of it. She hates me, and with good reason. She wants to die, Mal. I've been there. I know what that's like."

  His lips formed a perfect 'O' and he nodded, looking away from me. "I get it now."

  I bit my lip. "I don't think you can. I've heard about things like this, kids turning into the people who hurt them, and I always swore that I never would. But look at me. I'm hurting someone and telling myself that it's for her own good. What the fuck kind of sick person does that?"

  "Well, for starters, doctors." He lifted an eyebrow.

  "We're not doing surgery."

  "Ah, I'd argue with you on that one. What you're doing is essentially a form of magical surgery. You're speeding up the withdrawal process, you're doing it without anaesthesia. But also, there are doctors who work addicts through recovery. And a lot of the patients end up hating the doctors who do it, because they see them as taking their control away from them. Are those doctors evil?"

  "You're not going to make me feel better about this, Mal. I don't want you to." That was the truth—I didn't want to feel comfortable with what I was doing to Lilith. I wanted the guilt to eat at me day in and day out, because I didn't want to be like my foster parents, and if I was comfortable then I would become them.

  "OK, that's a conversation for a different day then. I think we should let her calm down a bit, before I go out and find someone to feed her. Maybe we should go to the compound and spar—how's your mark doing today?"

  My eyes widened. We hadn't sparred since the incident, I didn't think it was a good idea for us to be alone. This didn't count, because we were working with Lilith so there was no chance of him growing amorous. But alone, fighting, that was the kind of situation where your blood rises and you wind up with pent up energy that needs to find an outlet somehow.

  That was a recipe for disaster.

  I shook my head. "No, I don't think we need to do that. I'm fine," I said. I wasn't thinking about the mark when I said I was fine, because then it would have been a lie. The mark had become angrier every day that I worked with Lilith, and I knew that I was going to have to face facts and talk to Mal about it sooner or later.

  I was opting for later.

  "I should go," I said, standing up.

  He frowned. "OK..."

  I didn't wait for him to say goodbye, I just took off.

  It was too dangerous, being around him.

  2

  The car ride home had been absolute bloody torture—traffic had been hell, which just gave me plenty of time to sit and think about how completely cocked up everything had become. I had a succubus in chains, trying to break an addiction, and a Fallen that had made a move on me. A move that was still up for debate on whether I had wanted it.

  Oh, and don't forget the demon mark on my wrist, constantly tempting me to give in and embrace the power inside. The one time I had given it full control it had gone off like a nuclear bomb, and the fall out had been devastating. I was terrified of what would happen if I made that mistake again.

  I was grateful when I finally pulled into my driveway, the sight of my home welcome and warming. I got wearily out of the car, using the car door to pull myself upright then kicked it shut behind me, and walked up to the house. It took me just a few moments to take down the wards that protected the home, then get in, shut the world outside and put them back up.

  My threshold wasn't as powerful as most, since I'd only lived here for two years, and Aidan had never really made it a home. Add in the fact that things that went bump in the night were likely to target my home, and it made sense why the both of us had supplemented the natural threshold with wards to keep things out.

  I glanced around the empty living room as I unbuckled the belt that held my thigh holsters in place, slipping out of it and tossing it onto the side of the couch. I would have to bring it down to the basement later and hang it up properly, didn't want to risk damaging the wands that kept me safe, but I was a lazy fuck most of the time.

  "Fred?" I called into the house, wondering what the little imp had been up to in the time that I'd been gone. The little bugger had wormed his way into my heart over the past two years, the final tug having been just a week ago when both of us had thought I wouldn't be coming home from the fight with the succubus. Neither of us had ever thought that both she and I would make it out alive, and in fact I had been certain that I wouldn't be making it out at all. Fred had picked up on that, and the bloody devil had all but made me cry when he told me I had to come home.

  There was no way I could listen to that and not promise to come home. And look, I'd kept my promise, no matter how weird the resolution had been.

  "Yes, Miss?" Fred came bounding up the basement steps and all but barrelled into me, knocking into my knees so hard I almost fell over. He wrapped his little arms around my legs and held on for several minutes while I awkwardly patted his head.

  "Hey, Fred. Still anxious?"

  He looked up at me with narrowed eyes. "You is hanging about a succubus, Miss. Is a dangerous business, and I is worrying about you."

  I sighed. "I know, but it's under control. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise."

  "You is promising?"

  "Yep, and don't I keep my promises?"

  He seemed to think about it for a moment before he bobbed his big head. "Yes, I supposes that's true. You came'd home, and that's important."

  I smiled. It was nice, having someone worry about me, having someone anxious for me to come home. I'd never had that before Fred.

  "What did you get up to today?" I wriggled a bit so that he would let go of my legs, then walked into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of water and fished a granola bar out of a cabinet. I was going to have to get rid of Lilith's power in a minute, I could feel it bubbling within me, and I wanted to get ready for that. Maybe eating wasn't the best idea, but it was going to take a lot out of me.

  Literally.

  "I was readings one of the bookies you has given me. Very, very good! Spaceship battles, Miss Blair, glorious spaceship battles and new creatures and new cultures and oh, so good."

  I grinned. It remained the funniest thing to me that Fred, an imp that had lived centuries, possibly millennia, was obsessed with science fiction. Probably because it was something he considered 'new,' rather than a horrible and inaccurate re-telling of something he had lived through. I walked into the living room and threw myself down on the couch, taking a sip of my water before I put it on the coffee table, and peeling open the granola bar.

  "That sounds like a great day," I said between bites of the bar.

  He nodded his head exuberantly. "Is sooooo good."

  "That's great." I finished off the granola bar. "Are you ready for the purge?"

  His features sobered and he heaved out a sigh. "You is doing it agains?"

  I bit my lip, looking away from him. Fred really hated the magic I was using on Lilith, and had told me how dangerous it was, but I hadn't listened. Still wasn't listening. I was determined to do things my way, no matter what Fred and Mal said, I was going to get Lilith through this as quickly as was possible.

  "Yeah, I did it again. It's OK, Fred. I have it under control."

  I felt his gaze boring into me until I finally turned to look at him again. There was no judgment in his huge eyes, no condemnation, only a heart clenching concern that I wanted to make go away. I didn't want him to worry about me, no matter how sweet it was.

  "You is the Miss," he said, setting his lips in a hard line.

  "Please don't talk like that," I said. "I'm not your boss, I'm your friend."


  He shrugged his little shoulders. "Is not my fault you is misunderstanding the situation. You is doings as you want, and is not anythings I is able to control."

  Oof. That was true, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to hear him say it. I always did exactly as I wanted, no matter what anyone else said, and it had dropped me into more than one sticky situation throughout my life. You'd think I'd learn from it, but I was stubborn as a mule.

  "Come on," I said, standing up and walking over to the door. "Let's get this over with."

  He nodded and followed me out of the house. We walked around to the back, away from the street and closer to the woods. I lived in a fairly remote area just outside of London, no neighbors for a good distance. Aidan had likely picked it either because he was a hermit, or because it afforded one the privacy to work magic outdoors. I liked it for both options.

  I braced both hands on the brick wall of the house, leaning at a ninety-degree angle, and looked down at the ground. "Tergus succubus," I said, grinding my teeth around the word.

  The reaction was immediate, pain swirling in my gut as the magic churned to separate Lilith's essence from my own, burning my insides and leaving me gasping for air. My nails bit into the brick wall, scraping them and wrecking my fingers as well as I fought to remain upright. I didn't want to be driven to my knees, as humiliating as that would be.

  It came rushing up out of me, a blackness that I felt in my soul. Smoke poured out of my mouth in heavy chunks, choking my throat and driving the breath from my lungs. It kept coming for what felt like an eternity, the muscles in my neck bulging at the force that was pushing through my throat, pouring out onto the ground.

  I don't know how long I stood like that, my stomach and lungs on fire, my throat being scraped raw, until I finally collapsed onto the ground when the last of it was gone. I clutched at my stomach with one hand, the other going back to brace against the wall as I vomited onto the grass. The acrid taste of sulphur wouldn't get out of my mouth.

  If you think vomit tastes bad, try mixing it with sulphur. I guarantee you it's a thousand times worse.

  I spat onto the ground when there was nothing but acid to retch, taking my hand away from the wall to rub it across my mouth and rid myself of the taste of torture.

  Fred rubbed my back in an effort to comfort me, making small clucking sounds at the same time.

  "Is over, Missy, all over."

  It wasn't. It wouldn't be over for a long time, not to mention my soul would have to repair itself in the meantime. I felt its broken nature, as if chunks of it were missing inside of me. I didn't feel all there, my head was woozy, light headed, and I wanted to lay down. But I wasn't ready to give up on the day.

  Soon, but not now.

  "Not yet." I grunted the words out. "Mundus." I waved a hand at the smoke piled around me, watching as it dissipated into the air. I couldn't risk something else coming along and gobbling up the succubus' power. That would be a danger I was personally responsible for. I waited until it was all gone before I struggled to my feet, still clutching at my stomach.

  I looked down to see blood smeared across shirt, suddenly aware of the growing soreness in the tips of my fingers. Whoops.

  I staggered back into the house, Fred trailing behind me. It may seem that he wasn't terribly important to the cleansing process, but he was there to watch me. To hold me accountable and make sure I did it—he wouldn't ever admit to that, but that was OK. It had been my idea. I didn't trust myself with the power that I was taking in, and as long as he was watching and worrying about me, I had a reason to follow through on getting rid of the stuff.

  "You should be layings down," he said once we were back inside with the door safely warded.

  "Not yet," I said again. It was more of a croak. My throat felt like sandpaper. I looked at the water on the table, squinting at it, before I stalked over and downed what remained in the glass. I yearned for something stronger, something that would burn on its way down and make the pain fade away to a fuzziness that could be forgotten. I had more that I wanted to work on, though, so I wasn't going to do that. "Let's get down to business."

  "What business?" Fred stared at me. "You should be's healing, Miss!"

  "There's no time for that," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "We've got to stay ahead of things. I need to be sharper, better able to deal with the mark on top of this new power plaguing me. We're going to work on mental exercises."

  He frowned. "Isn't that's a thing you is doing with Raven?"

  I didn't answer at first, carrying my empty glass into the kitchen and refilling it. I downed the water quickly, then went into the cupboard to pull out another granola bar. I opened it and took a bite of it, chewing and swallowing before I spoke again. "Raven doesn't know about the spell, Fred."

  His giant ears perked straight up into the air. His eyes now impossibly huge. "Raven is not knowings? Miss Blair!" He wailed, reaching up to tug on his ears. "How is you doings this? Is not saaaaaaafe."

  "I know, I know, OK, you're the only one who knows, aside from Mal, and I want to keep it that way for the moment. I don't...I don't want to disappoint them, OK?"

  Fred stared at me for a long moment, his large eyes unblinking. "They is going to find out, Miss Blair. One way or another, they is always finding out. Going to be mad with you they is." He shook his little head from side to side, his hands over his ears, muttering and keening to himself.

  A shiver ran down my spine. I knew he was right.

  It couldn't remain my secret forever.

  3

  Fred and I descended the stairs to the basement in silence, neither of us able to say a word after that exchange. The silence simmered in the air, an awkward presence. Fred and I were capable of being around one another and not talking, it had happened on more than one occasion, but this was different. There were unspoken words hovering between us, warnings from him and dispersions from me. I wasn't ready to listen, and he seemed to be aware of that fact. I assumed, that was why he wasn't talking.

  "Are you going to help me?" I looked down at him as I spoke, lifting an eyebrow.

  "I is always going to helps you, Miss."

  I sighed. Again, with the 'Miss'. I was never going to break him of that habit. Two years hadn't had any effect thus far and I doubted that it was going to change. I didn't like it when he called me 'Miss'. It made me uncomfortable, made it feel like he was a servant when he was someone I was very fond of. I didn't want him to think he was a servant in this house. I didn't think I treated him like one...More an adorable mentor, really.

  "How are we going to do this?" I realised that I had no plans so far, I had just walked into this with a goal and no idea how to execute it.

  "You is wanting to sharpen your mind, yes?"

  "Yeah."

  "The minds is like muscle, you can makes it stronger by breaking it."

  My eyes widened, and I looked down at him in shock. "What?"

  "Nothing bads, I is promising. But you must knows that muscles is growing when you break it in little bits and then let it grow back, yes?"

  "Uh, yeah, I guess that's true." I frowned, thinking about it. I'd never really focused on how a muscle got stronger, I'd just worked out to get there. It made sense, though. That's why you were always sore.

  "In ways, is good we are doing this after you is weakened yourselfs. Your mind is easier to break."

  I swallowed, glancing around the unlit basement. I twitched my fingers and candles jumped to life, a parlour trick I had become very good at. The basement had several workbenches along one wall, a circle of various metals braided together inlaid in the center, a picnic table near to the circle, and a punch bag and weights in one corner. The table and work out equipment were my own additions, everything else—all the cabinets stocked with supplies—had been things Aidan had created here. Sure, I restocked the cabinets when they got low, but I still considered them his.

  "Starts on the bag," he said, nodding his head at the punching bag.


  I quirked up an eyebrow. "Why?"

  Leave it to me to question orders from a being eons older than me. Raven was the only person I obeyed without question, and that was because they scared the pants off me.

  "Is you going to have perfect focus when you is fighting things, or is you going to be distracted?"

  Hm. Good point. Raven and I had always worked in perfect silence, although their mental attacks had done quite a bit to make things hard on me. I understood Fred's point though; there was a high likelihood of someone attacking my mind while I was in the middle of a physical fight, and without having two people here to work with me...this was the best option.

  You could have asked Mal to help.

  I shook away the thought before it could go any further. I wasn't going to ask Mal for help for a while, I felt like space needed to grow between us to a certain degree before we could truly get back to normal.

  Walking over to one of the workbenches, I opened a drawer and pulled out athletic tape. I shrugged out of my jackets, so that only the grey T-shirt remained along with my jeans, and wrapped my hands. I then went over to the punching bag and began to work on it, driving into it some of my frustrations with Mal.

  Why did that wanker have to complicate things? Kissing me was a completely unfair move, something that he should have...should have put more thought into. He should have known how I would respond, should have known that it was a line I wasn't willing to cross. He had changed the nature of our entire relationship, and I didn't appreciate it.

  I landed a hard kick to the bag, turning around and slamming two punches into the middle. I felt my body start to heat up, loosening my muscles as I fell into a familiar pattern between kicks and jabs. Working out on the punching bag was one of my favorite pastimes, it let me get my frustration and rage out in a safe environment, where I wasn't at risk of hurting anyone.

  Of late, that had become a major concern of mine. The more the brand grew, the more it hurt, the more I knew I was a danger to those around me. I lived in terror that it would take control of me one day, no matter what I did to fight it, and I would be at the mercy of demonic power greater than any I'd ever seen. Would I be a puppet, able to see what was happening but unable to control my own body, or would I know what I was doing and enjoy it?