by Bryn Donovan
“I’m sorry for saying that about the spell,” Jonathan said after he closed the door behind them. Clearly, he’d taken Gabi’s reprimand to heart.
“It’s all right. You didn’t jinx me.”
He let out a tense half laugh. She got a beer out of the fridge and dug around to find the bottle opener in a drawer.
“You heard what Capitán Renaud said. If I get possessed—”
“I know my job.” She didn’t want to hear him say the rest. Her hands shook. She fumbled the bottle opener, got a good grip on it again, and popped off the cap.
He drew nearer and his eyes bored into hers. “You can’t hesitate. It would be one of the best things you ever did for me, I swear. I’d sooner burn in hell than let a demon use me.”
“You wouldn’t go to hell!”
His mouth twitched. “I’m just saying nothing could be worse.”
Cassie took a long drink of the beer and hoped it would help her get some rest. She didn’t want to be exhausted for tomorrow, but her nerves stretched so thin they felt like they might snap.
Jonathan rubbed at his shoulder. “And I don’t want to die like Michael did, either. People should have something to bury.”
She nodded. Never in her life had she expected to have such a grim conversation, but she’d signed up for this, and she wasn’t going to back out now. “You have to do the same for me.” She didn’t want to go up to the mesa fearing she’d turn into a cannibal.
“I know.” The look in his eyes was as bleak as a winter storm.
She put the beer down and took his hand. “But that’s not going to happen. Because I’ll be with you. You’re a strong warrior, and you know this demon now.”
That broke through the ice. He looked at her for a long moment and then cradled her face in both hands to kiss her, soul-deep, with so much tenderness she thought her heart might break.
Heat poured through her like a triple shot of tequila. This was terrible timing. Surely he didn’t want to wear himself out on the eve of a battle. But God, she ached, and she wanted his hands on her already tingling skin.
He ended the kiss but still held her face in his hands, leaning his forehead against her, blocking off everything in the world besides his love. “You’ve got that wrong, though,” he murmured. “We’ll survive because of you. You’re strong with your ancestors’ magic. You’ll contain it here…” He ran his hand over her head, stroking back her hair. It felt like a blessing. “And here…” He laid his hand flat against her hard-beating heart. Leaning even closer, he whispered in her ear, “And all through your perfect, precious body.” He caressed one of her breasts and glided his hand down to the curve of her waist, as though his touch could strengthen her and protect her from harm. His lips pressed against the sensitive place behind her ear. Then he continued to murmur into it, even as he unbuttoned her shirt. “You have magic no one else has. And I knew from the moment I met you how brave you are. I believe in you.”
Cassie drew back long enough to strip off his T-shirt and then kissed him again, plunging into his mouth. Her hands smoothed across his mostly healed back. She needed to touch him everywhere. When she stroked his ridged belly above his belt, a growl emanated from his throat. Reaching around her back, he attempted to unfasten her bra, and his hassled sigh made her laugh. She undid it herself, tossing it on the floor.
His large, gentle hands encircled her breasts, and he lowered his head to suck hungrily at her nipple. He teased the other one with light, circular caresses. Wild sensations traveled through her body as though along invisible meridians of pleasure.
He unzipped her jeans and crouched down to peel them off her, along with her underwear. She stepped out of them, completely naked now, warmed and enveloped by his love. Instead of standing again, he shifted to a kneeling position. One of his hands spanned her hip and the other caressed her ass. He scattered kisses across her tightening belly and licked the flesh just inside her hipbone, where her Manus Sancti tattoo would soon lie. He lightly bit her there, and she squeaked, taking hold of his shoulder. His hand delved into the wetness between her legs, and she thought she would lose her mind. “Jonathan, please.”
He groaned. “You don’t know what it does to me…hearing you say my name like that.” He brushed his thumb over her clit, and she gasped, almost losing her balance.
In response to her unsteadiness, he pressed her back gently, the flat of his hand on her stomach, to lean against the wall. When he nudged one of her thighs, she breathlessly obeyed the unspoken command, spreading herself for his gaze and his touch. She couldn’t get enough of him. Two of his fingers thrust inside her as his thumb massaged her clit. Pleasure spiraled through her, but then a terrible thought intruded on her bliss. What if this were the last time?
His tongue darted across her heated flesh, and everything else went out of her head. He gripped the sides of her hips and feasted on her. “Yes! Please yes,” she implored. Her whole body flushed with heat. He pressed a third finger into her and sucked on her swollen clit, sending her senses spinning. Her climax crashed over her, and she cried out.
He released her heated bud but kept stroking and nibbling at her unbearably sensitized flesh. Her legs were shaking. She should reciprocate, or at least, he’d want to be inside her now, and she began to pull away.
He captured both of her hands in his and held them against the wall on either side of her, fixing her with an implacable look. “More.”
Panting, too overcome to argue against her own pleasure, Cassie let her head fall back against the wall and surrendered to his skill. He tasted her, teased her, delved into her, and she writhed as the sensation became almost too much to bear. Without stopping, he released her wrists and took hold of her hips, keeping her still to take everything he had to give.
She touched the side of his face with shaking fingertips. God, she loved the way he loved her, deep and dark and thorough, demanding much and giving much more in return. She was coming apart, unable to bite back her wordless rising cries. He paused long enough to groan, “God, yes. Give it to me.” He took her into his mouth again, and she screamed as ecstasy shattered her.
The aftershocks pulsed through her body. Stunned, she swayed on her feet. Immediately, he stood to support her, his face glistening and his eyes filled with adoration. She wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath.
He murmured, “You’re so beautiful when you come. You have no idea.” She smelled herself on him, and it gave her a primal sense of ownership and satisfaction.
Wanting to finally reciprocate, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, pushing them partway down, along with his boxer briefs. She ran her hand up his sleek, hard length, and he flinched with pleasure, his reaction filling her with delight. Inspired, she reached between her legs, slicking her hand with her own abundant wetness, and took hold of him again, stroking hard.
He moved her hand away with a half-choked laugh. “You’re going to kill me.” Grabbing her by the hips, he hauled her up off her feet, her back still up against the wall. She sucked in a breath. Roughly, he adjusted his grip under her thighs and drove into her.
Oh, God. The conflicting sensations of being off her feet, yet supported, sent her mind reeling. She circled her arms around his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him. “Don’t drop me,” she whispered.
“I’ve got you.” The low, sensual rumble of his voice sent shivers across her skin. He filled her with one slow thrust and then another, a rhythm that mirrored his steady devotion. His breath against her neck was ragged, either with the physical strain or from the effort of keeping himself in check. He hit a spot deep within her that made her see sparks. Suddenly, she didn’t want him to hold back. She locked her ankles behind him and rocked against him.
He responded to her wordless bidding, serving her with faster strokes. Yes. She squeezed her muscles tight around him, and his pace grew wild. Hanging on for dear life, she reveled in his strength. Her pleasure escalat
ed, up and up, until it overcame her. A low cry escaped his lips as he climaxed, pumping into her.
For a moment, he rested his forehead against the wall.
“Oh, God,” she breathed, stunned. He lifted her up off him, carefully setting her on her feet. Then he kissed her between her breasts, right where her heart beat wildly. The strange, ardent gesture brought sudden tears to her eyes. No matter what happened in the future, this moment existed: their intimacy, their love. It could not be unwritten.
“We should lie down.” His voice came out hoarse. He yanked his jeans up and zipped them.
“I don’t think I can walk.”
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. After laying her down, he stretched out next to her, taking her into his arms. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“I should be thanking you. Jesus.” His cheek rested close to her lips, so she kissed it. “I hope you haven’t worn yourself out for tomorrow.”
His low, easy laugh reassured her. “You give me strength.”
Warmth coursed through her veins at the words. “Well, you’ve exhausted me.”
“Good.” He smoothed back a damp strand of hair that had fallen in her face. “Then you can get a good night’s sleep.”
Already, her body and mind were succumbing to it. Her last thought was, Really, what stands a chance against us?
When Cassie had fallen asleep, Jonathan got up quietly from the bed and took a quick shower. The muscles in his arms and legs were fatigued, and he’d be sore by this time tomorrow. His senses still thrummed from her passion and his, the sound of her soft moans, the taste of her. She didn’t wake up when he returned, and he sat on the edge of the bed.
Although he hadn’t prayed for a specific thing in years, it wouldn’t hurt to do it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
God, you know I don’t usually ask you for favors. Please keep Cassie safe. Help her contain the spell. Make me able to protect her. He thought of Michael, and it stabbed his heart. Help us put this thing down for good. It’s brutalizing innocent people. Children. You know I would give my life freely. If it takes a sacrifice to defeat it, let it be mine. He opened his eyes briefly to look at Cassie again. Her brow was smooth, her body slack in what appeared to be a deep, dreamless sleep, the kind that would give her energy for the mission ahead. For that, at least, he was grateful. He finished his prayer, repeating himself. Please keep her safe. In Christ’s name, Amen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The next morning, Cassie woke up before Jonathan. She got dressed in a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a long-sleeved Henley over that, and then laced up her new black boots over wool socks. Nic had said it would be cold up on Urraca Mesa. She didn’t want her hair blowing in her face when she was in the middle of a demon-summoning spell, so she pulled it back in a tight ponytail. After she put on the jacket she’d bought in the Army surplus store in Phoenix, she sized up her reflection in the mirror. To her, at least, she resembled a Knight.
“Hey.” Jonathan propped himself up on one elbow. “You look great.” He got up and got dressed himself. As he attached the Glock in a concealed carry holster to his belt and tucked a folded knife in the front pocket, he avoided her eyes.
When they got to the conference room, Doug, Morty, and Val were already waiting.
Morty said to Doug, “Should we go over the summoning spell first? That’s the easiest part.”
“Yes,” he said. “Jonathan, you’re already familiar with this one. We didn’t make any changes.”
Jonathan nodded, his face hard, and took a seat. Cassie listened carefully. Jonathan would be in charge of painting the complex sigils. “Did Nic get a bone from the latest victim?” he asked. “We’ll need it for the ink.”
“We still have powdered bone from the victim in Taos,” Val said. “It should work.”
Cassie would do the immunity spell only after they got to the mesa, since they weren’t sure how long it would last. Once she was supercharged, they’d complete the summoning, which would include her reading an incantation while Jonathan did some bleeding and setting things on fire. Before Manus Sancti, she’d always thought of magic as meaning something easy. It was the way everyone talked: it appeared like magic. It worked like a charm. This was exactly wrong, she knew now. Magic was complicated, uncertain, and it could cost a lot.
Doug talked them through the banishing. “We’ve made additions based on Morty’s talk with the local lore expert and looking at other texts. Cassie, you’ll read the incantation. Jonathan will place magpie bones at the four compass directions near the portal.”
“Wait,” Cassie said. “Where do we get those?”
“Dominic Joe already got them,” Doug said. “And he got an ancient malachite carving from this area that should also bolster the spell.”
“Wow. How does he find these things?”
“We have whole floors that are storehouses,” Jonathan said. “But it’s still not easy to find stuff sometimes.”
“He’s good at tracking things down,” Doug agreed.
“What do we do with the carving?” Cassie asked.
Val said, “Well, Agnes cleansed and charged it, and Jonathan will bury it at the portal after you say the incantation.”
This sounded like a lot of stuff to do at once while a demon tried to turn one of them into a murdering cannibal—or exploded them into smithereens. She tried to ignore the cold dread in her gut. “Can’t Jonathan bury it before we summon the demon?”
“He can dig the hole beforehand,” Morty said. “But if it’s like other banishing spells I’ve done, actually burying it will need to go last.”
Adrenaline skated through her body. She tried to remain still. “How am I going to remember all this stuff? And what if I read the wrong spell at the wrong time?”
“Nic’s putting booklets together for both of you,” Val assured her. “All the incantations will be there in order. It’ll also have the ritual directions. All you have to do is follow along.” It sounded like a church bulletin, except for something that would end in demon banishment or tragic death instead of coffee and cookies in the fellowship hall.
Val said, “Now we need to talk about the possession immunity spell from the Codex.” She darted a nervous glance at Jonathan.
“It’s okay, corina,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to yell at you.”
She opened her glittery notebook. “It’s a straightforward incantation like the wild animal spell.”
Cassie said, “I guess my animals won’t do any good here?”
“If the demon’s possessing a human, they can attack that body. Otherwise, no. Now with the spell, the only other thing you’ll need is obsidian touching your skin. Nic has a necklace for you. You’ll read the transliteration out loud, like you did with your great-grandfather’s journal.” She looked up at Cassie. “How much did Lucia tell you about the effects of the spell on you?”
“She said it would bring up a bunch of horrible thoughts about myself that would make me want to kill myself or something.”
Val nodded. “A torrent of negative thoughts and feelings. Since they might tempt you to self-destructive thoughts or actions, you can’t have any weapons on your person. That’s why Jonathan will do the bloodletting part of the summoning spell.”
After a moment of silence, Cassie said, “It’s a hell of a side effect.”
“We think it’s how the spell works,” Doug said. “It engenders a massive internal psychic attack. All your defenses rise up to fight it. These defenses then make it impossible for anything else to break through. Even a demon can’t find its way in.”
“It’s like a vaccine,” Jonathan said.
Morty grunted. “A vaccine with enough virus in it to maybe kill you.” Doug shot him a remonstrative look. He said, “She’s got to know what she’s dealing with.”
Doug said, “The good news is that the defense this spell raises should be much stronger than one any person could raise by will alone. Holding one’
s defenses up, the way Jonathan will be doing, takes a great amount of energy. With this spell, they should remain without effort. If the person survives the initial psychic blast.”
Cassie asked, “How long does this shield or whatever hold?”
Morty nodded. “That’s a good question. And the answer is, we don’t know.”
“Lucia made her best guess from the context of the passage,” Doug said. “It’s true that we don’t know for sure. But she guessed several hours, at least.”
“That’s a big window,” Jonathan said, looking hopeful for the first time.
Cassie put her palms on the table. “Okay. Tell me how to not lose it after saying that spell.”
“The way you’ve trained your mind against anger should also help against despair,” Val said. “Resisting the unwanted emotions and repeating your mantra word.”
Cassie nodded. Shanti, shanti, shanti. Val’s mantra method seemed dumb and simplistic but actually worked. One thing she’d learned in life was that if something did the job, you went with it.
“You’ll also want to mentally argue with the thoughts that come up, if it’s possible,” Val said. “It says one thing, you say the opposite.”
Jonathan’s hand came to rest on Cassie’s knee. “I can help with that. Right?”
Val frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“You’ll need to fight like hell, babe,” Morty said soberly. “Don’t underestimate the threat of something just because it’s all in your head.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “But here’s what I don’t get. Where will all of these negative things come from?”
“Your own mind,” Val said. “Guilt, shame, depression. I do think you’re in better shape to survive the spell than most. You don’t carry as much as some people do.” Cassie suspected that by some people, she meant Jonathan. He had grief to spare, and he blamed himself for everything: his brother’s death, Lucia’s death, this demon running wild, and even her being at the table that morning.