“Ward,” I yelled, to let her know.
She raised a hand, and I saw an orange spell hit the wards, and then Daniella was within the ward around the house, and she ran to where I stood with Deirdre and Meema.
“Eww,” Daniella said in an aside to Deirdre and me. “I hope that thing stays on.” She nodded to the demon’s sad state of clothing.
Deirdre giggled. “That is something that can’t be unseen.”
“Really, girls.” Meema brushed by us to stand on the edge of the porch. “What do you want?” she called out to Tall, Gross, and Greasy.
“It is good that you are all here,” the demon said in a deep, rumbling voice. ”I have come for the Desdemonas.. “I am owed the souls of two Desdemona Nightingales, and I shall have them. A bargain was made, and it shall be kept.”
Meema smiled as we came up behind her. “Well,” she sounded like she was talking to a customer in the shop. “There has been no bargain made. I am the head of the Nightingales, and I can assure you none of us has had any dealings with the likes of you.” Her nose wrinkled.
The demon laughed. “Humans, even human witches, are so foolish when puffed up with pride. Stop your yapping, and listen to your betters.”
“Can we just kill him now?” I whispered to Meema.
“I doubt anyone would notice for a while. He doesn’t look like he’s the prom queen or anything,” Daniella added.
Meema held up a hand to quiet us. She said to the demon, “If you have a story to tell, please get on with it. We have other things to do.”
The demon called out in a language none of us understood, and there was a crack in the air. He opened his hand, and there was a rolled piece of parchment in it.
“I’m not getting close to him,” I said.
“Necromancer! I see you hiding among the women,” the demon bellowed. “Come out and bring this agreement to the eldest Desdemona.”
“Oh for hell’s sake,” I said. “I don’t like you, but you don’t have to do that,” I added as Zane pushed past Meema and down the steps. “Well, don’t listen to me then. So much for a peaceful life with rules.”
Zane walked to the edge of the grass. He held out his hand, and the demon took two steps toward him, and gave him the parchment. Without saying a thing, Zane came back to us. His face was stony as he handed it to Meema. Daniella, Deirdre, and I crowded close to her as she unrolled. A smell rose from the parchment.
“Just gross,” I said. “I’m afraid to know where he’s been keeping this thing.”
“It’s flesh,” Zane said quietly.
“What?” the four of us said in unison.
“Demons write contracts on the flesh of those they are contracting with.”
“What?” Meema’s face paled. “This is…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
“Human,” I said flatly.
“But who?” Deirdre asked. “None of us has been up to anything with this guy.”
“Deana?” Meema asked. “I can’t see it. She left because she wanted nothing to do with this life.” She was referring to our fourth sister, who, like Granny, was long since passed.
“It will be the person who signed it,” Zane said.
“Oh, no,” Meema said. She staggered into Daniella and me, and Deirdre took the parchment from her. “You need to read it, girls. I don’t think I can.”
The demon laughed and it was nastier sounding than before. “Truth can be such an unpleasant thing, can it not, ladies?”
“Shut up.” I glared at him. “Stop gloating and let us read. You’re blowing your wad over there.”
“Easy,” Zane muttered. “Please.”
Deirdre unrolled it again, taking her time.
“Read the contract aloud,” the demon commanded. “That way, all shall hear. All shall know.”
“Asshole,” I whispered.
Deirdre cleared her throat, and then began.
“I, Desdemona Nightingale, do willingly and happily enter into this contract with the demon, Ashlar. The demon Ashlar agrees to meet the terms of my demands. The demands are as follows. First, I shall be gifted with the powers that have lain dormant within my family. I will live always as I am now, until the time comes when I must honor the agreement made between myself and Ashlar. I will secure the life and love I wish for. I am promised a child. This the demon Ashlar grants me.” She looked up.
I know my mouth was hanging open. Meema had a hand over her mouth, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. What the hell had Granny given? Were we really not witches, but something from a horrible bargain with this gross thing standing out in the road? My mind struggled to understand. I slammed the door on the struggle. That was not the point right now.
“Go on,” Ashlar said.
Deirdre took a breath, stood tall, glared at him and continued reading. “In return for granting what I have asked for, I will surrender the souls of myself and my eldest child when we decide to leave this Earth. We will be called by the demon Ashlar once we shed our mortal bodies, and I agree to answer the call. I come to this agreement of my own will and desire.” Deirdre stopped. “Meema, is this Granny’s signature?” She handed the parchment over.
Meema accepted the nasty thing back with trembling hands. She looked over it, trailing her hands over the signature at the bottom. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s Granny.” She sagged against the post of the porch, looking, for the first time since I could remember, like an old woman.
I wanted to curl up and cry. How could Granny do this? What in the ever-loving hell had she been thinking? This was a trap, and there was no way she could get anything out of this. Why had she ever agreed to it? The only person this benefitted was Ashlar. Granny didn’t get anything—well, she had, but not for long.
And where in the hell had the demon gotten Granny’s flesh from, if what Zane said about contracts was true?
Snatching the parchment from Meema’s hand, I stepped off the porch. “Granny—the first Desdemona—has been gone for over a hundred years. And how do we even know this is real? Your kind are not exactly known for being honest.”
A rumble of thunder shook the ground beneath me.
“Careful, Desdemona,” Zane said. He sounded like he was right behind me, but I wasn’t going to turn around and take my eyes off the demon.
“I do not lie. I may not tell the entire truth, ‘tis true,” Ashlar said. “But I do not lie about agreements. Your grandmother signed that, did she not?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to. I pressed my lips together tightly.
“That is also the mark of Ashlar,” he continued. “We made an agreement, and it was done willingly by Desdemona Nightingale. I delivered the things I promised. The weak human love she wished for—was he not with her until her death?”
“I don’t think that was the way she wanted it,” I shot back. “A ghost is not a substitute for a man.”
Ashlar shrugged. “That is not my concern. She made her request, and I granted it. She had all the powers of the Nightingale women, did she not? She—” He stopped, and grinned. “And do you, her offspring, not share in those powers?”
He’d been about to say something else. I could tell. He wasn’t lying, but he sure wasn’t telling us everything. And that contract! What a piece of crap that was! Why would Granny have signed it? For John? For a man? I just didn’t buy it. There was more, and Ashlar knew it.
But he wasn’t telling. I narrowed my eyes as I shot my best glare at him, trying to will him to continue speaking.
“This was not the life she wished for,” Meema said. She sounded stronger, and she joined me on the lawn.
Deirdre came to stand on my other side with Daniella. “Your bargain was with our grandmother. She isn’t here. The fact that you believe she did not honor the agreement is not on us.”
The demon took a step closer, putting one hoof onto the lawn. “But it is, Nightingale daughter. You see, your grandmother cheated. She pretended to honor the agreement.”
“That doesn’t sound like Granny,” I objected. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew it was Zane, and I felt the warning in his touch. I could feel his concern and his fear.
Ashlar continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “When you turned eighteen, daughter of Desdemona, I came for her, and for you. She waited for me, on the same porch where you stand now. She said that she would be out within an hour, and she wanted the time to prepare the things that had to be done. I care naught for the concerns of humans, but I prefer the souls to come with as little as struggle as possible. I granted her an hour, and at the appointed time, returned to claim my souls. The women—the supposed Desdemonas—were sitting together on the porch, and I called out to her. She raised her head, and said, ‘We have been ill. But we are here to honor our bargain.’ Her head fell forward, and she stopped speaking. The women were very close to death. Which does not matter to me. I gathered the souls, and I left, believing that the human woman had honored that which she promised.”
He looked up, and for a moment, made me think of an impatient businessman. Then he glared at all of us, and it was like the fires of hell opened up from his gaze. “Imagine my surprise when recently, the younger of the two souls informed me that she was not, in fact, Desdemona. That Desdemona had bought their lives. She took care of the children that would be orphaned—for this woman and her mother both had a wasting sickness, and both were dying. There were a number of humans that would suffer their loss.” Ashlar waved a hand, dismissing children losing a mother as an aside.
I hated him for that. And there hadn’t been anything in the contract about a specific date. Which was Granny’s mistake. You didn’t leave demons wiggle room. They always wiggled, and the human ended up screwed. Why ask for immortality if you and your kid only had eighteen years? It didn’t make sense.
But that was the hell of wiggle room in contracts. Those who put it in a contract were planning to use the wiggle room before the ink dried.
“In return, they agreed to let me take them. The woman informed me they’d already lived through hell on Earth, so the possibility of Hell did not frighten them. She and her mother lasted a long time in my realm,” he added. “They were fighters. The younger of the two spilled all she knew at the end, otherwise I’d have no knowledge of these trivial details. I know you humans prize them, however.”
What had he done to them? I didn’t think you could destroy a soul, but he spoke of them as in the past. Why was he telling us all this? It didn’t make any sense.
“All of which matters not. The agreement has not been fulfilled. I will have the two Desdemonas that were promised.”
“Are we sure the first Desdemona isn’t already in Hell?” Zane asked behind us in an undertone.
All four of us turned to glower at him. “You really want to die right now? I could fit it in, despite the crowded schedule,” I said.
“That’s if you beat me to it,” Deirdre said.
“We do not agree to this.” Meema dismissed Zane with a look that would have killed him had she been focused. “I will not be party to a bargain I had no hand in.”
“No matter,” Ashlar said. “You were made party by one who had the right to speak for you.”
“Not for my soul,” Meema countered.
“I have been patient. I have allowed for explanation when none was required. You will come with me now and attempt to make amends for the betrayal of your mother.” Ashlar crossed his arms, manifesting extreme boresom. “This discussion is over.”
“The silencing spell is slipping,” Zane said.
“Then be useful and shore it up!” Meema snapped. “Girls,” she said.
We knew the tone. It was our word, our way of making ready.
“Love you,” Meema, Deirdre, Daniella and I said together.
Meema had insisted. She said we never knew what might happen, and you always wanted to tell your loved ones how you felt.
As one, we sent a vanquishing spell toward Ashlar. It shot out of our hands, varying shades of green.
Our action took Ashlar by surprise. The spell hit him as he moved. It exploded in a shower of green stars against his leg.
“Betraying witches!” he screamed. “You will all suffer! Kaabe’t’aek shu’eshak!”
“Oh shit,” Zane yelled. Obviously he understood what the hell Ashlar had just said. “Peregrinatione ad angustos!”
“You asshole!” I screamed. “You’re not getting my soul or anyone else’s!” Ashlar had cast a soul calling spell. I could tell by Zane’s response. It wouldn’t just hit us, but everyone around.
And we protected Deadwood. No exceptions.
At least the necromancer was helping. “Peregrinatione ad angustos!” I shouted as a red light flew from my hands. Meema and Deirdre joined me, and we cast the spell wide. I didn’t want anyone in Deadwood to pay the price for our family baggage.
The demon roared, and threw back his head and opened his mouth. Flame shot out, and when he lowered his head, the flame came toward us. It scorched and killed anything living it touched. The grass and the rosebushes were blasted into bits of ash. But nothing else seemed to catch fire.
“Daemon ignis,” Zane shouted. “Duck! Praefundo!”
The four of us dropped to the ground. A torrential rain poured down on it. It wasn’t just water—it was ice cold, and it extinguished the fire.
Demon fire. Ashlar was pissed. I’d read about it but never seen it before. Everything I’d read said demons don’t pull this out a lot because it makes them...it makes them weak.
“Victa,” I whispered to Deirdre.
She nodded and whispered to Meema and Daniella.
“On three,” I said. “One, two, THREE!” I shouted the last word.
Meema, Daniella, Deirdre and I stood up, clasping our hands together, and thrusting them to where Ashlar stood. “Victa!” we shouted.
I put everything I had into it. Ashlar screamed, a bone-crushing scream I’d never heard before. It made my head hurt, and my ears were wet, as though they were bleeding. I felt tears come from my eyes, and my nose was running.
I glanced over at Meema and my sisters to see how they were holding up.
They were bleeding. Eyes. Ears. Nose. Oh my God. He was going to make us bleed to death.
Vaguely, as from far away, I heard someone shout, “Praesidio!”
A coolness came over me, and a rush of liquid from my ears. Everything was so much quieter now. The scream that had hurt so much when I’d first heard it was fading. I was still holding Deirdre’s hand, but she seemed far away, too.
It was all getting better. I could see Ashlar, but he was fading. There was a light where he stood, and all around him was dark. Black. The blackness closed in, making the light around him smaller and smaller until he was merely a blurred image within a tiny sun.
Something tugged at me, but I couldn’t turn my head. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. What was I doing? I was saying something. Doing something. But … whatever it was moved away, far away. And I couldn’t be bothered to look for it, or discover what it might have been.
I needed to close my eyes. A jerk on me, on my arm, and then blessed darkness.
Love you, I thought. Love you. The darkness went over my head, and carried me further under, and I gave myself up.
Chapter Four
My feet hurt. Not just tired feet, but like they were burning. Like, hanging out in a fireplace burning. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were shut, and that feeling when you get up, and your eyes are crusty? That was it, but on crack.
“Jesus,” I whispered.
“He is not here. Much as it might do him good,” a deep voice rumbled in front of me. At least, it sounded like it was in front of me.
“Where am I?” I muttered. I was late for something, I’d been too late—what was it? I couldn’t remember, and my feet hurt, and my damn eyes were itching and horrible. I shook my head, and remembered that I had an arm.
It weighed a ton, but I was able to clumsily drag it acro
ss my eyes. Painfully, I opened them, and forgot how to breathe.
The scene before me was awful. Dark, with red tints. There was movement all around. Everywhere my hurting eyes could see, there was movement, roiling and rolling and slithering. All of it was interspersed with pain. Pain so deep that it made me hurt to see it. Everywhere, darkness and movement and pain. There was nothing else. No light. No space. Nothing but pain.
“Beautiful isn’t it?”
I turned my head to see a brown creature—a demon—next to me. I knew him. I should know him. His name. His name was … Ashlar.
Oh my goddess. Everything came back to me in a rush, and I fell back against whatever I was leaning on, shaking with the memory.
“Ah. Good. You remember. Sometimes, it takes people a while to come to their past. The shock of coming here is overwhelming for some. I do have to say that I am pleased with you, Desdemona Nightingale. You came back to yourself in a matter of moments. The blink of an eye, as you humans say.” He found this amusing, and laughed uproariously at his own wit.
“Asshole,” I said.
“Even better. You are still yourself. It will make our time together more fulfilling. Perhaps I shall be mollified.” He tapped his finger against his lips. Then he looked at me. “But I doubt it. I am a vengeful creature, and your family is indebted to me.”
“Don’t … owe you … shit,” I ground out. It hurt to speak. It even hurt to breathe, but I had to keep doing that. At least, I think I did. I’d never been to Hell before. Maybe the rules were different.
“Gaze upon it,” he said, like we were discussing the weather. “There it is. One of the most beautiful sights in Hell.”
Apparently I didn’t gaze appreciatively enough at the green goo floating above us because he spat at the ground in disgust. “You humans. Everything about you is small. You think small. You live small. And you die small. Your mother, who was promised to me? She is doing her small, human bit. She is up there.”
I looked up again, frantic to see Meema. I didn’t think she was here. I thought I was here alone. I followed where his clawed hand pointed. As I stared, details became clearer. What I thought was green goo was moving, and within whatever it was were … people. I gasped.
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