“We haven’t found a way.” He thought she’d known that.
“I’m so scared,” her voice was a ragged whisper.
Everything inside him urged him to comfort her. Part of him thought it odd that she broke down now. There’d been more than several times before now, and she’d dominated each situation.
“You’re strong. We’re together. Keep talking so I can find you.”
“Don’t look for me. I can’t— I can’t bear your touch.”
He stopped with a frown. She didn’t want him?
“You and I,” she continued, and he took another step, “we have to be over. We have to break this bond.”
Another step. “Let me just find you. Then we can talk.”
Her voice grew stronger. “Break the bond, Creed.”
“Melody, let’s talk first. We decided to keep it no matter what—”
“I don’t want you anymore!” Her voice echoed around the cavern.
He stopped again. This push-pull was wearing on him. They couldn’t resist each other, but they kept thrusting each other away knowing how much they wanted to be together.
Pressing the heels of his hands to his head, he forced the swell of despair down. Break his bond with Melody? Some days, it was all he had of her. That’d been his number one fear when his parents and a possessed Franklin had tried to break it themselves. No more connection with Melody.
“Break the bond.” She was firm. Resolved.
Where was her fear now? Transferring it to her determination to end them?
He wouldn’t give her up without a fight. “Remember when you had to move to the compound and I helped you carry your luggage?”
She stayed quiet.
“I thought you’d be some high-maintenance chick and here you’d only packed one suitcase.”
“I remember that night,” she said softly. “I was so scared.”
He blinked. If she had been, she hadn’t shown it. “I’m really sorry for what I said.”
“I know you didn’t mean it.”
But he had. And she’d known that. She wasn’t acting like his Melody. His Melody constantly surprised him with her strength. Who was this fearful Melody?
“We need to break this bond, Creed. For both of us.”
Break the damn bond. As if it were that easy—possible, but not simple. Anger chased away the haze of confusion.
No, she wasn’t acting like his Melody. He couldn’t even see if it was his Melody.
He chuckled. “I remember being so shocked at your room. Who still sleeps with all those stuffed animals?”
“I do.”
“And purple? How much purple can one woman get into her bedroom.”
“Um, a lot?”
“And that fish. It’s your favorite, right?” His tone was hard.
“What? Yeah, I love stuffed animals, I guess.”
“It’s not stuffed, it’s mounted. Do you know why?”
She was silent.
“Because it was the prettiest fish Melody had caught and her dad had it mounted for her. Who the fuck are you?”
A dim light brightened in a corner. Melody, or something that looked like her, huddled against the wall, the dust on her face streaked with tears. He even moved closer to her without realizing it.
He inhaled deep.
Nothing but brimstone and the funk of the underworld. No salty caramel that was his female.
“You’re not Melody.”
She sniffled and peered at him. Sadness fell from her face, replaced by fear.
Now he was confused.
“She ordered me to cast the illusion. Melody wants to be done with you.”
“Santi?”
The being that looked like Melody nodded and wiped her face, smudging the dirt streaks and highlighting the bags under her eyes.
He was right, it wasn’t Melody. But his female wouldn’t have charged into a vampire den, in full battle mode, if she wanted to dissolve the bond. “Answer this then, what’d Melody say to you when we first tracked you down in our search for Hypna’s servants?”
Not-Melody made a disgusted noise. If it was Santi, she’d have changed back, right? “Why would I remember?”
“Because you found us, we didn’t track you down. Let’s go back to who the fuck are you?”
Melody launched to all fours, her face in full snarl, her fangs longer than he’d ever seen.
Could he hurt an impostor who looked just like the love of his life?
The love of his life. He was in so much trouble and not because he had a nude not-Melody to take down.
He beckoned the illusion. “Come get some.”
“Some what?” she snarled.
Okay. Not a demon that spent a lot of time around humans.
She leaped. He blasted into motion, jumping to the side and kicking out. His boot made contact with a bony surface. Weird because on the illusion, it’d been the gut. The illusion flew back and wavered.
The small oily creatures he’d seen in the ring when Melody had faced Vita were visible for a blink before Melody’s image took over.
Bita had been a nightmare demon. It’d make sense her mother Vita was, too. And that Vita had been the one possessing Franklin Alda. She had reasons more than pride and resentment for seeing Melody destroyed. Only Vita wasn’t in here. She’d left; that was the blinding light. But she’d stayed long enough to determine his nightmare of losing Melody, of her no longer wanting him.
The creature righted itself and attacked again. Creed threw another kick but overestimated. His boot met air and he spun with the motion so he wouldn’t fall and be at the creature’s mercy.
It latched onto the back of his thigh. Sharp points dug into his flesh. The agony was staggering. The initial stab was tolerable, but the steady and growing burn could incapacitate him.
The light winked out and he was back in the dark. Fuck. He dug his hands into where he calculated the creature to be. His fingers sunk into warm, slick flesh. They didn’t just look oily, their texture fit, also.
Yanking away from him, the claws and teeth and whatever else the creature had embedded in him dislodged.
A thunk and a screech from the other side of the door almost distracted him.
The burn crawled up his leg and spread. What kind of poison did this thing possess?
The creature disappeared from his grip. The cavern was quiet, but there was a scuffle outside the door. Creed braced himself for another attack. He faltered, his damaged leg unable to bear weight. Falling back against the wall, he tried to right himself, but the poison had crept up his torso. His gut cramped so hard it doubled him over. He fell forward, his face smacking the packed floor. His chest constricted until dragging in a breath was the most impossible task he’d ever been assigned.
Blinking in the dark, another battle cry cut through the air. It came from outside the room.
Was that…?
He tried to suck in another breath. No luck. His chest was on fire, his lungs squeezed, begging for air. He scissored his legs, the move sluggish. One leg was entirely covered in blood. Had the creature nicked an artery?
Vampires weren’t supposed to be able to die from suffocation, but he wasn’t sure about supernaturally caused asphyxiation.
He was going to call for Melody, but his mouth gaped like her mounted trout. His head spun. Blood loss.
And these last few months, he’d arrogantly assumed he’d be the one to outlive Melody. To suffer as she got sick and died. To wither in loneliness when she passed away of old age. To mourn her loss as she succumbed from the removal of Hypna’s power.
But she’d thrived. No longer human, old age wasn’t a concern. Could she still get sick?
Did it matter? He was bleeding out, full of underworld poison.
One last time, he tried sucking in air, but was met with a void of nothing. All that anguish he’d sought to spare himself would now be hers. But if there was one thing he’d learned about her, she might let it stall her, but it’d never stop her.
Go get ’em, Meladonna.
Chapter Sixteen
Melody squeezed her hands around Vita’s bony neck and slammed into the wall one more time.
Vita only cackled, a dark and sinister laugh that writhed with much more than humor.
Melody’s horns were locked with the she-demon’s. “Open the damn door!”
She sensed Creed in there, and he was hurting.
Vita’s uneven smile didn’t leave her face. “He’s dying,” she wheezed. “You’re not the only one with poison.”
Melody reflexively dug her thumbs into the female’s trachea. Could poison off a vampire? She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t want to test it.
“He dies, you die.” Vita was going to die anyway. Roots surrounded them, batting away those pesky little creatures of Vita’s.
The female barked a laugh. “I feel his life force fading.”
Melody loosened her grip but commanded a root to loop around Vita’s neck. The other demon’s eyes widened, much to Melody’s satisfaction.
“I will dismantle you limb from limb.” Melody spoke evenly, let her gaze reflect how serious she was. “I will take a hand first, and one from each of your little creations.”
Fury filled Vita’s eyes. She pushed against Melody, almost dislodged her, so easy to do for a demon so much larger than her. But the roots and Melody’s ferocity held her in place.
Vita narrowed her eyes, her body going limp. Her gaze darted to the side, but her next words distracted Melody from following to see what she’d looked at.
“He died believing you wanted nothing to do with him.” Vita’s dark laugh rippled down Melody’s spine, filling her with dread. “He fell for my little nightmare of you demanding he sever the bond.” A pout twisted her already misshapen lips. “His heartbreak was utterly delightful.”
A cry of outrage ripped from Melody. She jerked her horns free and reared back. Lowering her head, she rammed Vita. Creed believed she’d wanted nothing to do with him? After she’d rushed to his side to save him?
Another shout of sorrow and she impaled Vita again. A wet groan left the female’s lips and she hung limp from Melody’s roots. Melody unloaded her poison before stepping back to free herself.
An unforgiving band of steel clamped around her waist. Bursts of fire sprung up from wherever it touched.
What the—
She screamed. Oh god, the agony. What had cut her? Swords of fire.
She was jerked back. She sucked in another scream of torment. Vita’s sickly scent swarmed into her lungs. Bits of her fetid flesh dropped off her horns. The force that had ahold of Melody whipped her around like an unwanted rag doll until she dangled from massive hands under her shoulders.
When she got a look at her captor, she shrieked.
Malachim’s big, ugly face leered at her, his sinister red horns much larger this close. A tremble shook her pained body.
Things had been going so well. She had planned to finish off Vita, then rescue Creed. If they could’ve made it through this, they would’ve been golden. They’d made it through everything else, despite a bumpy ride. But Malachim was one of the strongest purebreds the underworld had to offer. And she was alone. And Creed was dying.
She was losing miserably, but not completely powerless. With a thought, the root around Vita’s neck tightened. Melody kept her wide gaze glued to Malachim’s ugly face. Think harder! The root jerked. Melody gasped, her fear blocking her power. Or was her power dwindling?
More! It finally twisted through ligaments and bone.
Malachim’s nostrils flared as Vita’s head hit the floor.
“Oops,” she said and laughed weakly. Each twitch of muscle was excruciating, but she wasn’t going down cowering and groveling about how she wished she was better.
He grunted and squeezed, like CPR on steroids. Her heart stammered, but resumed beating.
“Enjoy that power while you have it, human.” The words in his rough voice were almost indiscernible.
Melody analyzed the situation. He held her too far away. Even fully extended, her horns wouldn’t work.
All her roots were free now that they didn’t have Vita’s creatures to battle. She ordered them to attack, but they only fluttered weakly.
“What’s the matter?” he sneered, drool hanging from his swollen lips. “Is your human stamina failing you? Or perhaps you didn’t know they wouldn’t work on me.”
“B-but…when I killed Bita and you were going to attack me?”
His booming laughter made her flinch. “Did your roots actually touch me? Or did I let you think I was scared of them?”
He’d…he’d outsmarted her? A big, brute of a demon who looked like his brain should be the size of walnut? He’d gotten the element of surprise.
Flying high on her new abilities and her bonus of learning to control them, she hadn’t learned the drawbacks. When did she fatigue? Were there any demons they wouldn’t work on? Without Rell, she was flying blind. He’d said Malachim was as strong and ferocious as he looked, but couldn’t read any other powers. If Malachim was immune to her, he may be immune to others’ power. Then he may have been immune to Rell’s abilities as well, and she was in a well of trouble.
She looked inside of herself. Hello pit of rage?
It wasn’t there. She was learning to speak what was on her mind. She’d proven herself, and in doing so, effectively cleaved herself from the biggest fuel supply for her power.
She thought of Creed dying a few feet away on the other side of the sealed door. Like a tiny flame flickering in the dark, the burst of power was short-lived and useless against her captor.
Malachim spun her and tucked her under his hairy, putrid armpit.
Strike now!
She aimed her horns at his abdomen.
Without a word, he gripped both horns in one mighty hand and twisted. They jerked on her scalp, cracked, and finally gave, breaking off at the base, taking skin with.
The pain robbed her of breath, blurred her vision. She gasped and choked. Tears welled and spilled from her eyes.
Malachim lumbered away with her secured to his side. She was weak, helpless. For once, she was the one wishing she was more. She’d failed, and everyone was going to pay for it.
***
Hot, tangy blood filled his mouth. Creed’s awareness slowly came to. He was on the floor. It was still dark, but dirt and grime covered him from head to toe.
He drank the gift of blood, not caring who it came from until he remembered where he was and why.
Besides, it was familiar. Strength infused his muscles, energy coursed through him. He recognized the potent flavor with the subtle tang of brimstone and the burn of bad whiskey.
Turning his head, he croaked, “Quution?”
Quution shoved his wrist back in Creed’s mouth. Creed took a few more pulls before stopping to rise into a sitting position.
“Where’s Melody?” His voice was hoarse, but he forced the words out. He’d been passing out while Melody raged on the other side of the door.
“Malachim just left with her. I didn’t dare revive you until he was gone.”
“What?” Creed surged to his feet and swayed. Melody lost the fight and was at their lack of mercy?
“It would seem that when those barbarian demons team together, they can be quite cunning. They tricked you into your parents’ clutches to get you away from Melody. They think if they can isolate her, they can kill her. Meanwhile, they had a trap prepared down here. But I sensed Vita’s energy draining, so kudos to Melody for that. There’s another vacancy on the Circle.”
“She couldn’t take Malachim?”
“Perhaps, if she was fresh, but she’s been going pretty steady with her powers since she woke up. Plus, I suspect there’s more to Malachim than his fearsome appearance and bulging muscles.”
He had to get to her, had to find a way to help her.
“How can she refresh?”
Did she have to rage? Would her terror fuel her just as well?
Quution bounced an orb in his hand to cast some light around the room. It was a drab, plain cave. A perfect canvas for Vita’s attempt at trickery.
“I really don’t know,” Quution answered. “Melody may have discovered already.”
Creed paused to think. Had she?
She must’ve gotten some boon from sex.
Yes, she had figured it out. But they’d just coupled. It’s not like finding her for a quick fuck was feasible in this situation. Would telling her he loved her have the same effect as when he’d upset her?
“I need to find her.”
Quution inclined his head, his expression saying Duh.
Another problem dawned on him. “I need weapons.”
Quution smiled. “It just happens, I have some.” He crossed to the door that was nothing but a rectangle in the wall with no handle or hinges. He pressed his fingers on the surface. Light rimmed the perimeter and the door tipped outward.
Creed followed him out and through the maze of corridors. Some places he thought he recognized, but it was difficult when everything looked the same. Demons must go by sense as much as looks.
They passed no one.
“It seems the rest of the inhabitants know there’s some bad business going on and have made themselves scarce.” Quution sounded more amused.
“Waiting to see where the pointer lands?”
Quution turned into a large cavern. Creed knew it was his without him stating the obvious. Other than Melody’s vines and Bishop’s talk of frost berries, the only thing adorning the underworld was dirt and torches.
Tapestries lined Quution’s lair, as if he flaunted his ability to transport them between realms by hanging them for all to see. A makeshift rack with clothing hung on the far wall and a large, boxy chest sat at the end of the slab. The slab for sleeping that was covered in a duvet.
“Show off much?” Creed muttered.
“It’s the simplest things that portray one’s power better than violence.” Quution crossed to the chest and flipped the lid open. “In my studies of what I could transport here with little effort, I collected these.”
Creed went to the chest and peered inside. He didn’t care what Quution had. Creed was strapping it on and going in search of Melody. He grabbed the machete first. It was encased in a leather holder that he hooked over his neck and shoulder.
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