Hex Goddess (All My Exes Die from Hexes Book 3)

by Killian McRae

  He leaned down and braced Anwen by the biceps, bringing her to stand directly in front of him.

  “Can you hear me?” he asked her telepathically.

  Her head bobbed. “But I can’t respond that way. Quartergod, works in one direction only.”

  Frustrating, but good enough for the moment. “You’ve been seen with us, so they’re going to suspect you. Luckily, I have a reputation that gives us an out. Head to the loo after I kiss you and wait there until either Jerry or I come for you.”

  “After you what?”

  He answered her with his lips. Mistake, big mistake. The anger radiating off her tasted bitter on his palate. The lithe figure beneath him turned lethargic, every muscle in her body seizing and resisting. He wanted to end it there and give her another kind of tongue-lashing, warning her of the danger headed their way and, please, could she just play along? Just as he was about to do just that, Anwen melted. Her lips moved against his, coaxing, and answering, as she kissed him back with a fervor. His arms moved from her arms to the back of her neck as he angled her head, driving their kiss deeper. God, what a mouth this feisty, little lass had! Dense with passion, she made every one of his synapses wolf-whistle. When she pulled away, daring to blush, it took Dee a moment to remember why he kissed her to begin with.

  Oh, yeah. Demons.

  He pressed one more whispered kiss across her lips.

  You know, for show.

  “Go. We’ll take care of these idiots.”

  She nodded. “Don’t forget to tip the barman, eh?”

  A moment later, Anwen was out of sight, and Dee imagined she might also be out of breath.

  Jerry leaned in. “Kyle and Manuelo.”

  Dee shot him an accusatory glare. “You on a first name basis with all of Hell?”

  “What can I say? I racked up a shit ton of seniority and got to know people. This shouldn’t take long; they’re only Bangers. All brawn, no brain.”

  “Bangers?” Dee’s head tilted. “Why would they send Bangers after us? They know I can take on six for breakfast and still be hungry again at lunch, right?

  Dee chanced a glance in the direction the two demons’ eyes tracked, catching the not-too-shabby hind end belonging to Anwen as the loo door closed behind her. Were they actually here for her, instead of them? Not that it mattered to Dee; he would toast them anyway. But why drag out two Bangers to take down one petite quartergod?

  Jerry’s voice diverted Dee from further speculation.

  “Not sure how easy this dough is going to roll without more milk in the batter.”

  “If that’s sexual innuendo of some kind, I’m going to pound you after we take care of these two.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Jerry said. “I mean, I’ve vanquished demons since going topside, but never without the access of hellfire, or the backing of Riona’s power. Not sure I can do this on my own.”

  “You’re an ace with the wicca, Jer. I know you can do this.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the pillar’s mouth curl into a smile. “Aw, Dee. Don’t go all soft on me now.”

  “I’m not, I just know you’re the real deal.”

  A huff of a laugh escaped Jerry. “No, see, that was a sexual innuendo.”

  Dee grabbed Jerry by the arm, moving them swiftly across the room, intercepting the Bangers just ten feet from the bathroom. The demons’ grins broadened when they sniffed the power standing before them. One licked his lips. All four noted the crowd with a surveying glance. Although demons weren’t particularly concerned with public acts of aggression, they knew well enough that too many eyes and witnesses caused trouble. Likewise, Jerry and Dee weren’t anxious to be detained by having to track down so many witness statements that Ramiel would need to clean. Instead, all four grimaced and sat down on stools.

  “Well, look, Kyle; the traitor, Jerry Romani.” Manuelo appraised the ex-demon with an appreciative, yet patronizing eye. “They say you’re human again, Jer. That’s too bad. Human bodies break so easily.”

  “Yeah? Well, at least, mine won’t turn to dust from a selected classic recitation.”

  The older-looking, bald one chuckled under his breath. “So it’s true then. The great Jerry Romani, a common mortal. This should be fun.”

  A surprise to even his own ears, Dee heard himself assuming defense mode. “Mortal Jerry on his deathbed could kick either one of your sorry asses any day of the week. And, oh, lucky us, this is any day of the week.”

  Kyle scowled. “Yeah, I look forward to the day with Jerry on his deathbed. Except I might like to have a little fun with him first, if you catch my drift, Manny.”

  Next to him, Jerry threw back his head and barked a laugh. “How many times am I going to tell you? You’re not my type. Besides, I’m a married man now. Maybe you and Manuelo can hook up. I always heard he had a thing for the ladies.”

  Kyle leapt to his feet, his fists pounding the table. “You, me, alley, now.”

  In calm, collected, and calculated movements, Jerry rose. “You just won’t take no for an answer, will you? Fine, you want to fuck with me, let’s fuck. Just won’t be in the way you’re thinking.”

  Manuelo pointed his bony, ring-bearing finger at Dee. “And I’ll take the demigod for a spin. I hear screwing them makes you drunk.”

  Dee got to his feet at Jerry’s side. “It only makes me drunk, idiot, but I’d have to be knee-walking wasted before I do anything more than piss in your general direction. Alley, you say? Sounds good. Let’s dance.”

  Adrenaline was already spiking his blood when Dee turned his gaze toward the women’s bathroom. Anwen’s fierce emerald eyes peered through a crack. He grinned and gave her a wink, making her cheeks flush. As he exited the bar, a thought ran through his head, and he wondered if her whole body flushed that way, as well as if he’d ever get a chance to witness that.

  ANWEN MORE THAN LECTURED herself to ignore the pulling she felt in the pit of her stomach; she gave it an Ivy League education and granted it an honorary PhD. The heat she felt bristling beneath her skin? Annoying, wrong, deadly. Demons were on her tail already; hanging out with Pure Souls was like charging into a hurricane in Hell while holding a lightning rod. It didn’t matter that the lightning rod was one she wouldn’t have minded holding onto and feeling the thunder. Seriously, she managed this long without giving in to temptation, and the last thing she needed now was to go all horny-wire over a stupid demigod. And a son of Zeus, no less! Nope, not interested.

  Tell that to her heart, however, which decided to conduct its own stress test at the sight of his cocky grin.

  She pulled the door closed and made her way into one of the empty stalls. How long should she wait? How long did it take to vanquish a demon? She only knew how long it took to outrun one. Furthermore, why was she waiting at all? The coast was clear; Jerry and Dee had already maneuvered the danger out of sight. She could break away and be on a bus headed north in a blink. Something tugged at her, however. Dee told her to wait. So she should wait. She should wait for him. Not him, them. Dee and Jerry.

  The exchange of pre-battle banter made its way to her ears via an open window, high over the throne. Forget the cliché that girls were chatty; male demons prattled ad nauseum. Too bad she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She closed her eyes and focused just as Dee said something. Boy, he had a sexy voice. Low and sultry, which made her feel all....

  Nope. No.

  Anwen closed the lid of the toilet, plopped herself down, and fished out her phone. A web of others like her, magical folk, be they witches, demigods, or performance artists, used social media to alert each other of suspicious activity. So far, no one had posted anything about demons in her part of East London. She opened up Twitter and keyed in the strokes in rapid fire movements, muttering aloud as she did so.

  “Two microbrews, Hackney, two minutes ago.” She thought temporarily about whether or not to mention the Pure Souls, but figured knowing the demons were being taken care of would have relieved
some of the local residents who were trying to lay low. “#ClosingTime,” she entered just before hitting post.

  “I’m sorry, are you talking to someone?”

  Anwen all but fell onto the floor. It wasn’t like no one ever tried talking to her in the women’s WC, but she hadn’t heard anyone come in. She checked all the stalls, too. Her arms flung out against the sides of the stall, and she looked up, seeing what might have been the most beautiful woman she ever beheld, standing in the stall with her. Slender and sensuous, she had more curves than a mountain road, and a rack you’d play ninety minutes on. Despite her ebony skin, Anwen got the distinct sense that she was, for lack of a better term, luminous. A glow radiated off her body and also from her onyx eyes. But how the devil did she get into the stall with her?

  Stupid pub door locks.

  Recovering her wherewithal, Anwen plunged the bucket deep into her well of sarcasm. “Sorry, but I don’t provide sexual services. So if that’s what you’re looking for, just bugger off.”

  “Thanks for the caveat, but I’m not soliciting.” The woman cocked her chin, examining Anwen from tip to toe in a way that unnerved her. “Anwen Yates, is it? You’ve given the demons quite a run.”

  Anwen sheathed her phone in her pocket. She sighed, throwing back her head and gauging the escape options. The sound of fists on flesh flowed in through the open window.

  “How do you know my name?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned against the side of the stall. “I know everyone’s name.” She shrugged. “Can’t really say how. It’s just a thing.”

  “A woman,” she laughed. She guessed the female variety didn’t raise the same instinctive alarms as their male counterparts. “About time. I was starting to think no one had broken Hell’s glass ceiling yet.”

  “We only deploy women for... seductive tasks.” The woman’s smile entranced her. “You, however, require thuggery. I’m Sam, by the way, and I should be thug enough. When it comes to killing off a witch, I’ve always relied on brawn to do the trick. Except with you. You keep finding ways to escape. Funny, you don’t look that strong or that smart.”

  Anwen poised herself, trying her best not to let her nerves show. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the stall wall. “Is that why you’re after me? And here I thought you were trying to serve a summons or some shite. Look, I don’t know what your intelligence networks turned up, but I’m not a witch,” she spat back. “Other than a few basic charms any Side-Alley Samantha could do, I’m talentless. I’m no threat to you, and I don’t want to get involved in any wars between the realms.”

  “But, my dear, don’t you get it?”

  A single finger pulled down her cheek, and Anwen hissed as the searing pain of her flesh blistering sent her whole body twisting. Her back hit the wall as the woman advanced a step, pinning her against it.

  “You were a threat the moment you were conceived.” Her eyes flickered up. “And for someone who doesn’t want to get involved with the struggle, you sure do keep interesting company.”

  Anwen’s feet nearly slipped as she tried to get away, standing on the back of the loo. The maneuver took her out of the female’s reach, but would it be far enough? Even with the leverage, the window was still at least three feet above her head. Anwen silenced her panic and listened. Only three voices now, two American-ish and one Spanish.

  “Not my monkeys, not my circus,” Anwen declared. Her eyes lifted to the window as she willed her body to move in its direction. “But I did learn this little trick from Grandpa, so ta-ta!”

  Her hands shooting up, Anwen let the momentum carry her aloft, clearing the window with ease. Her face still burned, but she focused beyond the pain, taking in the view of the alley. Jerry and Dee had the remaining demon against a wall, his nose bloodied and part of his face missing.

  They all froze when they caught sight of her hovering form, suspended three feet above the ground.

  “So, yeah, I can fly,” she stated the obvious as she let herself float down. “But that’s not important now. There’s another demon inside. Can we leave?”

  Jerry turned to Dee. “Had enough fun with him?”

  Dee shrugged. “Enough to sate me for now.”

  Jerry rattled off something that was either from the liturgy, or an entree for a Pakistani restaurant menu, and the demon in their grasp literally melted into goo.

  Whoa! Wasn’t that a nice party trick she wouldn’t mind learning?

  Footfalls from the pub speeded in their direction. Anwen lowered herself and grabbed the pillars’ hands, yanking them along as they hurried up the alley.

  “Time to bolt, gentlemen. You want me to come with you? Fine. But the first one who makes a Wicked Witch of the West joke gets a kick in the balls.”

  Chapter 11

  Riona knew angels could fly.

  Well, she suspected they could.

  Honestly, she really would have liked to have been able to fly. Why? She couldn’t quite say. But when she thought about the resumes of the Heavenly Host she was introduced to during parochial school, flying was definitely part of the package. So far, she only succeeded in lifting herself about three inches off the balcony attached to her room at Persephone’s house. Then again, perhaps, she inherited her featherless skills from her mother’s side of the family.

  A sore knee and a bit of painful reflection eventually forced Riona to admit that her knowledge of angel’s actual aptitudes was woefully limited and most likely, romanticized. Her supernatural studies since becoming a Pure Soul centered on learning caustic vocal cocktails comprised of Latin, Greek, Sanskrit, and scraps of a dozen other ancient languages. The church insisted on translating the Bible into every language on God’s green earth, including Klingon, but spells and hexes had to be uttered in the tongues of Alexander the Great’s empire, although she did not know why.

  What about the cool shifting thing she managed to do that landed her in Hades’ room the night before? She turned around and closed the door to her room, trying to force her mind to carry her body through by will. No matter how hard she concentrated, she got nowhere. Riona searched her memories for some hint of how it was supposed to go. The only thing that did pop up in her mind as potentially helpful came to her as a mishmash collage of every martial arts movie she ever watched during pizza and beer nights back in college.

  Well, that one about Xian Woh probably wasn’t much help, but taking what lessons she could, she closed her eyes and tried to stop imagining herself moving. Instead, she envisioned the inside of her room, giving it importance in itself, irrelevant to her needs or desires. In her room, where there was safety, a bed, a bathroom door... She needed to figure it out, and needed to get the know-how on that stuff.

  Riona felt a pinprick of anticipation when the tingling spread over her arms and ran up her legs. She dared not open her eyes, too scared to avoid the pull in the pit of her stomach. A moment later, the sensations transformed into a push with a satisfying burn. Heat crept over all her surfaces until, in an instant, everything about her stilled. Snapping open her eyes, she was ready to celebrate her success. Instead, her self-confidence wilted when she caught sight of a pair of very black, very amused eyes looking at her from across a scroll-filled desk.

  “Do you intend to make a habit of popping in on me?” Hades asked nonchalantly, dipping a quill in his inkwell. “At least, this time you were modest enough to come clothed. Do let me know, however, if you become otherwise.”

  Riona sighed, collapsing into a chair across from him. “Here isn’t what I was aiming for.”

  “Not planning on having a slumber party in my office then?” He examined her from the corner of his eye. “The absence of night clothes and any other guests makes me guess not. Tell me, Miss Dade, where were you trying to go?”

  “Not here, wherever here is,” she admitted. “I just can’t seem to get a handle on it. Isn’t there some sort of GPS for porting? Why can’t I do this? The,” she looked for a word that wouldn’t giv
e away too much, “others don’t seem to have a problem.”

  “Other Pure Souls?”

  His sparkling grin made her queasy with anxiety.

  “I repeat what I said before: you shouldn’t be able to do anything here,” Hades continued. “Wicca only has power in the mortal realm. Hence, I’m left to conclude that you must be more than you appear to the naked eye. And if all I can give you of myself naked is my eye, then...” He flashed a quick look up at her, catching her grin. “You are more than the sum of your parts, Riona. Which leaves one to ponder: how does one go about examining your lovely parts?”

  “My lovely parts are none of your business,” she admonished. “You sound like a college professor. Do you always speak so rigid and formal?”

  “Unless I’m making love. Then my vocabulary descends dramatically toward the vulgar and obscene. Care for a demonstration?”

  He said it so dryly, she wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke. “I’ll just take your word for it.”

  “I suppose that will have to do.” He finished signing the scroll under his hands with a flourish of quill scratches. “I don’t know if Persephone has informed you yet, but we will be dining at my brother’s home this evening. You should be able to find something suitable to wear in the wardrobe in your room, but I imagine that won’t be an issue for you.” Hades looked up, his eyes intense and roaming, and surveyed her as though for the first time. “There’s great curiosity about you on the Mountain. Zeus thought this might be the easiest way for everyone to meet you without you having to entertain a barrage of dinner invitations that could end up taking weeks to fulfill. Besides, after experiencing one dinner, you may find opportunities for attending such future events undesirable.”

  “Curious about me?” She felt loose in her skin, and tight in her chest just thinking about it. “I’m no one special. Well, yeah, I’m the keystone, but I can’t imagine that’s very impressive to a bunch of immortals.”