The Witch's Kiss

by Tricia Schneider

  Michael nodded.

  Sage sighed. “It changed form at will. Female to male and back. It had power of flame. When it…attacked me, it absorbed my power. I couldn’t use magic of any kind for several weeks after. And when I did begin to regain use of magic, it was tainted by fire. Now, every time I cast a spell it turns to flame.”

  Michael nodded. “I know this demon.”

  “You can summon it?” Desmonda asked.

  Michael nodded again.

  “Wait. What?” Sage took a step forward. “Summon it? You can’t. It’s dead.”

  The reverend heaved a deep sigh. “It takes incredible strength to kill a demon. Most often, it’s cast back to Hell, back into the underworld. That’s where your demon is residing.”

  “It’s alive?” A chill crept along Sage’s skin. The rest of Mr. Blair’s statement crept into his brain. “You cannot summon it,” he protested. “That magic is the blackest of its kind. And the demon is strong…terrifying…”

  “If you have any hope of severing your bond, it must be dealt with, otherwise the connection with you will remain for as long as it pleases.”

  Sage took several steps backward, stumbling for a moment before placing his hands on his knees to steady himself. The demon was not dead…For all this time, he had considered his family safe, thinking the demon deceased. Imagining now, the creature had access to him at any time in the last six months created a wave of panic that stunned him. After a few moments of deep even breathing, he regained his equilibrium. Tonight, the ties between him and the demon would be broken. Straightening with clenched fists at his sides, he nodded.

  “Very well.”

  “During the attack, did the demon take anything from you? A lock of hair, article of clothing?”

  Sage shook his head. “Nothing of which I’m aware.”

  “Did it have contact with any bodily fluids? Did it kiss you or…?”

  “Yes,” Sage said abruptly. “It kissed me and bit my shoulder. She said she liked the taste of my blood.” He cringed at the memory.

  “Ah, that’s it then. We’ll need a few drops of your blood to complete to circle.”

  Desmonda pulled a small blade from a hidden compartment in her dress. She approached Sage, requesting his hand. A quick flick of her wrist and tiny drops of blood oozed from the cut on Sage’s arm. He followed her around the circle, dropping his blood to complete the magic.

  Michael faced the circle, reciting words from a scroll he extracted from the bag at his feet. The words were in another language, one Sage was not familiar with. They felt ancient. As the reverend spoke, he sensed the power beginning to build. It rose from the ground, encircling them in a storm of magic. It was difficult to breathe.

  Fear came with the magic.

  Sage had been frightened when facing the demon before, but now he forced his feet to the ground when all he wished to do was flee. This was the blackest sort of magic. The sort that should never be attempted. And he was about to confront the demon who haunted his memory.

  Within moments, flames burst forth around the circle, creating a ring of fire. Something dark and shadowy began to emerge from within the flames. A mass of dark clouds, coalescing into the shape of a dark-haired woman with flashing red eyes. As soon as she formed fully, she turned those demon eyes on Sage. A slow smile curved her lips.

  “We meet again.”

  ****

  Her voice was a seductive purr, more animal than woman, more creature than animal.

  “Show no fear,” Michael shouted. Marianne hadn’t noticed the rumbling that began when the magic started. The wind picked up, roaring around them like a giant thunderstorm. “It feeds on fear.”

  “Bloody brilliant,” Marianne heard Sage mutter. Since she practically crawled up his arm in fright, she could hear him quite clearly. She took a moment to gather herself. Marianne was frightened, more than ever before, but she reminded herself this demon could do nothing to harm her. She was already a ghost. How could anyone harm a ghost?

  Marianne didn’t hear Mr. Blair begin his exorcism. He shouted words at the demon, words she couldn’t identify since it sounded much the same as the ancient language he had used to summon the demon.

  The demon turned to the reverend, her smile sickly sweet on her beautiful face. She spoke to the man in the same language, growling the words. Her eyes widened at his response, and if possible appeared a brighter, angrier red. She lifted her head back and howled in rage, the fierce wind whipping her hair around her naked form.

  Then she stopped, turned her head, pointing at Marianne.

  “You,” she said with the evil smile back in place. “I want you.”

  “What?” Michael appeared baffled. He looked at Sage, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, no.” Desmonda rushed toward them, grabbing Sage’s arm in her hurry to reach them. Sage flinched, brushing her off. She released him with a quick apology. “You said Miss Grey arrived with you? Is she here now?”

  “Of course,” Sage said. “She goes with me everywhere.”

  Desmonda’s eyes closed. Her lips moved in a prayer Marianne had heard before, one seeking protection. When the woman’s eyes opened, grief and sorrow poured from her green gaze.

  “Tell her to run!” Michael shouted.

  “It will do no good,” Desmonda said quietly.

  “What’s happening?” Sage asked with a worried glance at Marianne.

  “Michael has bargained for your freedom. At the price of Marianne’s.”

  “What?” Sage asked. The fury in that single word chilled Marianne, enough for what Desmonda said to sink into her brain.

  “Tell her to run!” Michael repeated.

  At his words, the demon surged against the circle. The flames shot up higher. Michael dropped the scroll he’d been holding, and Marianne saw his mouth move. Then he lifted his hands, pushing into the air. Vibrations echoed through the air, and a faint light pulsed from the reverend’s hands. He was holding the demon back, keeping it trapped in the circle.

  “Marianne, you must run. She doesn’t have your blood scent. You must hide.” Desmonda spoke into the air as she had no sense of where Marianne stood.

  “Sage? What’s happening?” Marianne’s voice was a faint whisper. She stared at Desmonda like the woman was a creature she’d never before seen, one just as frightening as the demon now surging against the wall. Michael pushed against the barrier, attempting to keep the demon in its place.

  “There’s nothing more we can do,” Desmonda said to Sage. “Marianne is vulnerable. Her body can be possessed with anyone who controls her spirit. Do you understand what that means? The demon can take over Marianne’s body!”

  “Come, Marianne,” Sage said without waiting to hear more. He turned to run.

  “No, wait!” Desmonda grabbed Sage’s arm before he could take another step. “You cannot go with her. The demon has tasted your blood. It can track you. It will take longer to find Marianne if she goes alone.”

  “Marianne,” Sage said, turning to her. “My love…”

  “There’s no time! Marianne, run! Hide!” Desmonda said tugging Sage back to face her. “Sage, you must help us give her time to escape. Help us hold the demon in the circle.”

  Marianne took several backward steps, watching as Sage nodded. Desmonda pulled him away.

  “Go, Marianne!” With one last look, he turned to confront the demon with the two spellcasters at his side. Sage lifted his hands, a ball of flame extending from his fingertips, then blasted into the circle to keep the demon locked away from Marianne.

  Marianne’s legs bumped against a gravestone, shivering as the stone passed through her. Then she turned and ran into the darkness.

  ****

  Sage kept slinging fireballs at the circle, to keep the demon distracted while Marianne escaped behind him. After a while, he realized his magic was having little to no effect on the demon. The only one seemingly able to control the circle was Michael, and j
ust barely. The man was nearly to his knees. Sweat drenched his hair and stained his collar. He held his arms high, the power flowing from his fingertips even as the demon surged against him.

  “Enough,” Sage said, lowering his arms. Chills shivered along his skin when the demon’s gaze met his. “Leave Marianne alone. I’ll come with you. Willingly.”

  “Sage, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Desmonda’s voice echoed eerily behind him.

  The flames surrounding the circle died down until Sage could meet the demon face to face with nothing between them.

  “I’ve a taste for a body of my own. When I answered Drake’s summons, he forbid me from taking your ginger-haired beauty. Seeing as how he no longer has possession of her body, I’m no longer obligated to obey his commands.”

  “Leave her be. Take me instead!”

  The demon shook her head. “Our time together was precious, but I need you no longer.”

  A flash of smoke and fire filled the space, swallowing the demon. When the circle cleared, the demon was nowhere to be seen.

  “I’ve lost it,” Michael said, falling to his knees. Desmonda rushed to his side.

  But Sage turned away, looking beyond the graveyard behind them into the dark forest where Marianne had vanished.

  “Marianne,” he whispered. Pain swelled in his heart at the thought of Marianne falling into the demon’s clutches. The memory of his own torment at the demon’s hands haunted him. What damage would the creature do to an innocent such as Marianne?

  How could he stop it? How could he protect Marianne? He didn’t have the correct spells or the magic. Even a sorcerer had difficulty controlling the demon.

  Sage glanced back to where Desmonda comforted Michael. The reverend lay prone on the ground. The half-demon bent over him, running her fingers through his hair and along one cheek. Then she placed her lips on his.

  The sight shocked him.

  Were they lovers? The way they stared into each other’s eyes, it seemed only those truly in love would hold and kiss each other with such tenderness. Sage hadn’t seen the connection before, perhaps because he was so focused on freeing himself from the demon’s curse. But it was obvious Michael was beloved in Desmonda’s eyes.

  Beloved.

  The word crept into his mind, weaving through the possibilities. And then as if someone suddenly cast a light spell that brightened a dark room, he knew.

  Only a beloved could break the spell cast over Marianne.

  “I know what to do to save Marianne.”

  ****

  Marianne ran for hours through the dark forest. If she had been corporeal, she would have stumbled through the brush, injuring herself and announcing her presence for miles around. As it was, she glided soundlessly along the forest floor, a ghost among the trees.

  She stopped when the forest faded away to reveal a field. Beyond the farmer’s field, the tall spires of another church rising into the moonlit sky.

  Holy ground. Sanctuary. Surely, the demon could not find her there.

  She hurried into the church, passing through the closed doors with nothing but a tingle of awareness to mark the solid object. Though the interior was dark, she saw enough shapes illuminated from the moon’s light cast through the windows to find a pew and sink into it.

  If she’d been human, she’d be struggling for breath from the frantic running. But her heart hammered in fright rather than exhaustion. She reckoned she could keep running indefinitely seeing as she was a spirit.

  Why hadn’t she thought of finding safety in the confines of that other church where she and Sage had met Miss Green? It would have saved her being parted from Sage.

  Now that she felt safe again, her thoughts returned to him. Was he still in danger? Had Michael freed Sage from the demon’s curse?

  Questions plagued her as she sat in the still darkness, waiting. Waiting for what? How long must she sit? Sage would never know where to find her. But if Marianne set foot outside the church, she’d become vulnerable. The demon might catch her.

  Marianne shuddered.

  She wondered if Sage was safe. She wanted to go back, to search the area for him, but it was too dangerous.

  For her and Sage.

  Better to sit and wait.

  Marianne groaned. She dropped her head onto her arms resting on the pew in front of her.

  Perhaps it was better to find Sage. To fight. Instead of hiding and waiting.

  A rustling noise echoed in the darkness. She lifted her head. Was it Sage? Had he followed her?

  A shadow moved at the back of the church. She opened her mouth to call out to him, thinking it must be Sage, but hesitated.

  What if it wasn’t Sage?

  Although if it were not Sage, what difference would it make if she called out or not? Only three people could see or hear her so she’d be in no danger unless it was the demon. And everyone knew demons could not cross onto holy ground. She was safe enough as long as she stayed on church grounds.

  “Hello?” Marianne called out. If it were Sage come to search for her and she remained silent, he might miss her in the darkness and move on in his search.

  The shadow stopped, then changed direction toward Marianne. Expecting him to say something, she waited. As he stepped closer, she realized of the shape this person’s body did not match Sage.

  She stood.

  The shadow approached, and Marianne could identify the silhouette of a woman. When she walked into a pool of moonlight, Marianne looked into her glowing red eyes.

  “Hello, Marianne.”

  She screamed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Has he arrived?” Sage asked as he leapt from the carriage, rushing toward the entrance of Merriweather Manor.

  Basil stood at the door to greet him.

  “He’s in the parlor.”

  “Good.”

  “Care to explain your plan?”

  “No need,” Sage said, quickly. “I’ll show you.” He strode passed his bewildered brother, vaguely aware Basil followed close behind as he made his way to the parlor. Sage opened the door, frightening Julia who sat closest. She jumped as he charged in.

  “Julia, how do you do?” He nodded in her direction, but paid her no mind after his brief greeting. Instead, he scanned the room like a hunter searching for prey. His eyes narrowed on David Fernsby who sat next to Julia at the table in the corner of the room, sipping tea. At Sage’s bold entrance, Fernsby let out a squeal, his eyes as wide as the saucer that currently trembled in his hand, the cup quaking in midair as he stared at the intruder.

  “You,” Sage said, pointing with a scowl at the young man.

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Come with me.”

  “Sage? What’s this all about?” He heard Julia’s inquiries, but he did not pause to answer. Instead, he backed away, waiting rather impatiently for Fernsby to gather the courage necessary to stand and follow. It took a moment, but with a glowering look from Sage, Fernsby leapt to his feet and hurried after. Sage led Fernsby, as well as the others who trailed after, up the stairs and through the halls until he found Marianne’s bedchamber.

  He hesitated outside the room for a moment, staring at the grains of wood on the door and taking several deep breaths. It was just as well he hesitated. Basil and Fernsby were still hurrying to catch him up, Julia waddling close behind in her advanced state of pregnancy.

  But Sage hesitated for a reason other than allowing the others to follow him. A reason he was ashamed to admit. As much as he wanted Marianne’s curse to be lifted, he was loathe to admit he needed Fernsby’s help.

  Mrs. Watson’s admission still rang loudly in his ears. To her knowledge, young Fernsby was quite smitten with Marianne. The young cad loved her.

  And Sage loathed him for it.

  Fernsby did not deserve Marianne. Her goodness and light were too much for a boy like him to appreciate.

  Mrs. Watson had heard of the rumors Miss Smythe had spread, of Fernsby’s intentions of asking for her
hand. None of it was true. Charlotte was mistaken. Fernsby had no plans to marry anyone save Marianne.

  There was a demon to consider, however, which compelled Sage to turn the handle and open the door, hurrying Fernsby to follow.

  “Marianne?” Fernsby said, stopping at the entrance.

  “Come along, young Fernsby, we have no time to delay.” Sage reached for the man’s arm, dragging him with him as he approached the bed with the body of Marianne poised upon the sheets.

  “This is quite unorthodox,” Fernsby mumbled.

  Basil hurried to his brother’s side. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he whispered in Sage’s ear.

  “Yes,” Sage answered with a nod. “I’m saving Marianne.”

  From the corner of his eye, Sage saw Julia in the doorway, slightly out of breath from the chase through the halls. Basil moved to take her hand. His brother’s blond head leaned toward her to whisper in her ear.

  “Now, Fernsby,” Sage began, wondering yet again how he was going to pull this off. “Do us a favor, will you? Kiss Miss Marianne.” He gestured to the figure on the bed.

  Fernsby, who stood several inches shorter than Sage’s towering height, leaned up and whispered, “She’s sleeping.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t wish to wake her.”

  “It’s imperative you wake her.”

  “That’s quite rude, is it not?”

  “Not in this case,” Sage said. Taking Fernsby by the shoulders, he positioned him next to the bed. “We’re in a bit of a bind, Fernsby. Let us say we’re having difficulty waking the charming Miss Marianne. I think she’d be quite pleased for you to kiss her until she woke.”

  “Please do,” Julia said softly from the doorway. Fernsby glanced in her direction, his eyes widening at the sight of her pale, drawn face.

  “What’s this all about?” Wariness crept into his voice. Sage felt the man stiffen beneath the pressure of his fingers holding him in place.

  “It’s too much to go on about now. How’s about I pay you twenty shillings to kiss the girl? Will that do?” Basil asked, reaching into his pockets to produce the coin.

  “See, here,” Fernsby said, bristling. “I’m not about to take bribes to kiss an innocent girl—”