“You cannot have her,” Michael pledged, blocking each blow Samael threw at him.
“Always so greedy, Michael.” The sword came down again and again, but Michael blocked each blow.
Lightning shot across the sky, but both were oblivious to the threatening weather overhead.
The clanking of metal against metal was almost as loud as the thunder.
Samael jabbed and this time Michael’s reaction was a smidgen too slow. The sword hit flesh.
“Michael,” Clarity screamed, she threw down the book and ran to the edge of the door, her fingers gripping the doorframe.
Michael staggered back, his hand flew to his side and blood oozed between his fingers. Samael didn’t stop but came at him with a vengeance. Michael’s blocks were slower and he no longer made attempts to jab back. All his energy was used to keep Samael from making the final deathblow. Michael wouldn’t last much longer and the sun would not rise for another hour or so.
Even if she could discover how to free Michael, would it matter if Samael managed to strike him dead before the process could start? There was so much she didn’t know or understand about the curse and what she did know didn’t help. Both could die over and over again on Halloween night, but at the dawning of the next day, they would resume their frozen hell for another year. They were alive, but not alive when they were stone effigies.
Samael backed Michael against the door of a mausoleum. Michael lowered his arm, too tired to continue. Samael went in for the kill. Michael’s eyes found hers, his gaze filled with sorrow of a promise never spoken, a future they could never have.
“Noooo!” She screamed as Samael lifted his hand ready to deliver the final blow, but instead he placed the point of the sword at Michael’s neck. His head turned to look at her. His eyes red orbs, his lips curved in a hideous display exposing his teeth, giving him the look of a demented Jack o’ lantern.
“Come to me,” he demanded of her. “Come to me and I’ll let him live.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Michael rasped out. “If you step outside the room, he’ll be able to take what he wants from you. He seeks your blood to perform his dark magic.”
“Silence.” Samael punched Michael, hitting him full in the face. The sudden movement snapped his head back and his skull struck the stone with a sickening crack. Michael’s eyes rolled back as he slid to the ground.
Clarity’s eyes filled with tears, but she swallowed them back, not wanting to give Samael the satisfaction of seeing how much he hurt her.
Samael crouched down beside Michael and grabbed his hair. He yanked his head back, exposing the vulnerable area of skin and pressing the blade of his sword against his jugular. “I’ll cut his throat. It makes no difference to me.”
“If I stay in here, you can’t touch me. You’ll go back to being trapped in the devil’s chair and Michael will live once more.”
Samael sneered at her with contempt. “If you call being a stone effigy living.” Lightning lit the sky as he pressed the blade down. Even from where she stood, she could see the red droplets beading at the tip of the blade.
She fought the urge to go to Michael. She promised him she would stay put. She knew Michael couldn’t truly die, but to stand there and watch Samael cut his throat proved too much to endure.
She was about to step over the threshold, when a movement caught her eye. Michael’s eyes fluttered open. Samael was too intent on watching her that he failed to realize his prey wasn’t helpless anymore, but he needed a distraction.
“Okay. I’ll come to you.” She stepped over the threshold to prove she told the truth.
Samael removed the blade from Michael’s throat. His smug smile grated on her nerves, but it wouldn’t be there for long. He moved away from Michael. He took only a few steps toward her before Michael leapt to his feet. His wings spread wide and he rose into the air, his sword in his hand.
Samael turned. Stunned surprise lit his features, as Michael’s sword swung toward his neck. The sharp blade severed flesh and bone. His head fell from his shoulders and rolled away as his body fell to the ground in a heap of twitching limbs.
With Michael’s energy spent, he fell from the air, hitting the ground hard. She ran over to him, her arm going around his shoulders. “You defeated him.”
His gaze landed on her, giving her a small sad smile. “This year, anyway.”
Those few words were a good dose of reality. This battle meant nothing.
She gazed at the sky. The thunderclouds still rumbled in defiance, but dark clouds couldn’t keep the dawning of a new day from happening. The sky was already shades lighter. Soon Michael and Samael would return to their stone prisons to wait out another year.
Michael took hold of her hand, bringing it to his lips for a final farewell. “I’ll not forget you, Clarity Shaw.” His hand fell away.
“Don’t leave me.” She held his face between her palms. “Fight it. Don’t go.”
“If I could obey, I would do so.” He looked down at his side and she followed his line of vision. His wound healed before her eyes, the skin knitting together as if he had never been stabbed. “It’s almost time.” His heavy sigh was heartbreaking.
He rose to his feet, tall strong and healed to perfection once more.
She tore a glance at Samael. Even with his death, the curse would not let him rest. His head flew back to his body and reattached itself, breathing life into him again. Samael’s gaze found them. His mouth opened to say something, but he faded away before he had the chance. His smoke-like body whirled away from them and made a beeline to the awaiting devil’s chair.
Michael turned away. “I have to go.” His limbs moved as if someone controlled him. He was nothing more than a puppet to his fate.
She followed him, wishing, praying for the ability to free him.
His feet stepped onto the pedestal. He turned to look at her for the last time. His blue eyes starting to glaze over, the sadness emanating from them would be frozen within the stone. She stepped up on the pedestal and threw her arms around his neck, the rest of his body turning to stone, even as she willed him not to.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I failed you.” She leaned up and kissed his cold lips. As she did so, lightning struck, hitting both of them in an explosion of light.
Chapter Ten
Clarity opened her eyes and blinked. A man stood over her, his blue eyes all so familiar, but her muddled brain refused to give her a name. “Are you okay, Miss?” he asked, clearly worried about her.
Okay? She didn’t know. Her gaze took in the gravestones and crosses. She was lying on the damp ground in a graveyard. That couldn’t be good.
Voices drew her attention. They weren’t alone. A fire marshal and the police were taping off the area where the ground was burned. She forced her limbs to move and sat up. “What happened?”
“Lightning happened.” A policeman walked up behind the man with the blue eyes. “You really shouldn’t have been out here in a storm. It isn’t safe. Hester Higgins found that out the hard way. You two were luckier. The lightning only grazed you.”
She rubbed the back of her head where the nasty bump was located. She grimaced at the touch. Lightning? Something more happened here than a lightning storm, but what was it?
“Let me help you back to the hotel.” The blue-eyed man, who obviously had been with her last night, offered his hand to help her to her feet. She noticed for the first time that he wore period clothing—leggings, breeches, waistcoat, and to complete the outfit there was a fancy cravat at his neck. Then she remembered. Halloween was last night. He wore a costume. Had there been a Halloween party in the graveyard?
She reached for his hand. His gentle grip was strong as he pulled her to her feet. “Thank you.” Her gaze shifted to the Archangel statue that stood behind him.
She froze. Images flashed in her mind—angel, ghost, demon, and a duel to the death. She slipped from the man’s grip and moved closer to the effigy of the archangel. She remembere
d taking photos of this statue…was it only yesterday? Yes, she was here to write a story. Funny, the statue didn’t look so vibrant now, the carvings not as detailed. It was as if the life was gone from it. Then she remembered she’d taken a picture of the angel. Her hand slipped into the pocket of her windbreaker, withdrawing the camera. She tried to turn it on. She wasn’t surprise to find the camera was fried. A bolt of electricity would do that. She had no evidence of the statue coming alive.
Her hand went to the lump on the back of her head, tentatively touching it. Had she dreamt the whole outrageous night? She must have because to think otherwise was crazy. She turned her gaze toward the devil’s chair that now lay broken and splintered as if a sledgehammer had been taken to it. “It’s destroyed.” She hadn’t realized she spoke out loud until the police officer addressed her.
“I’d say. It’s nothing but rubble now. Can’t say I’m not glad. With the devil’s chair gone, it’ll keep the kids out of the cemetery on Halloween. Make’s my life easier now that the legend’s been put to rest.”
“Chuck,” another officer called to him.
“Be right there.” He waved back. “Will you be all right, Miss? The doctor’s been by to see you. He believed your injuries were minor, but you should still make an appointment to see your own doctor.”
“Do not worry, officer. I will take care of her,” the blue-eyed man told him.
She stared at him now, wondering why he would make such a promise. How did she know him?
“Then if you’ll excuse me.” The officer headed over to where he was needed.
Sensing she was staring at him, the blue-eyed man turned to look at her. “Is something amiss?” His lips twitched at the corners as he tried not to smile.
The morning sun lit his features and the night’s events sharpened in her mind. “Is it you?” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Her legs felt weak and she swayed on her feet. She would have fallen, but the man moved with sure quick steps. His strong arms went around her and he easily swept her off her feet, bringing her against his chest. The sudden movement jolted her, making her head swim. Automatically, her arms went around his neck.
“I better carry you back to the hotel.” He left no room for her to protest since he started walking toward the cemetery gate.
God, she felt stupid. Of course last night couldn’t have been real. What was she thinking? “I’m usually not the fainting type of gal.”
“I know,” he said with a confidence that made her frown.
“You know? Who are you?” Something floated in front of her, tickling her nose. She swiped at it, only having it land on her chest. Her fingers picked it up and she stared at the cream colored feather before her gaze riveted to his.
His lips curved wide and his eyes, the color of the sky, burned bright.
“It’s you, isn’t it? I’m not crazy. Last night did happen.”
“Yes, it is all as you remember.”
She pulled back to look at him. “You’re free of the curse.”
He chucked. “It would appear so.”
“Omigod, the connection to the stories. I get it now.”
“You do?” He halted his steps and put her down among the pink lady’s slippers and starflowers that carpeted the floor in an array of colors. They stood beneath the white pine trees mixed with hemlock and red oak, the gold, orange, and green leaves gently rustling around them.
She nodded. “The kiss was the answer all along, but it had to do with timing. When you were flesh and blood, it had no effect. All the characters in the fairytales had the curse in place. So when their—”
He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. “Female, you talk too much. I already know the answer. The magic of your kiss awakened me.” He leaned down, silencing her further by covering her mouth with his. His breath was hot, his lips soft, and his kiss just as heavenly as she remembered it to be.
Chapter Eleven
One Month Later
Clarity checked her caller ID before she answered her phone. It was her editor at Unbelievable Finds. “Hello, Loretta.”
“Hello yourself. I just wanted to let you know I’ve finished reading your piece about the legend surrounding the Tempest Gate Cemetery. It’s too bad you couldn’t get a picture of the devil’s chair, too. That would have been something. Anyway, it’ll be in next month’s issue.”
“Great, I look forward to picking up a copy.” Clarity told the true story about the Legend of Tempest Gate Cemetery, minus a few details. No one would believe her anyway.
“Now for the real reason I called.”
Clarity knew there had to be an ulterior motive. Loretta could have emailed her to let her know when the story would be published. “Yes?”
“What is it with you reporters? I sent Aubrey to California to investigate a magic box and she hooks up with an old fling. You take your first assignment in New Hampshire and meet…who did you say he was again?”
“Michael Davenport.”
“Hmm, yes. Michael Davenport, the great-great…good Lord, how many greats are in front of nephew? Anyway, a relative to one of the infamous ghosts that haunts the Tempest Gate Cemetery. He’s the owner of the hotel you’re staying at. Am I right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but kept on talking. “I’m staring at the email you sent me, telling me that you’re marrying this guy. I’m all for soul mates and true love, but you’ve only known this guy for a month. Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
If Loretta knew the true story, then she would really have a reason to think she was crazy. “What can I say, I fell for the guy.” Clarity’s lips curved. She could hear Loretta tapping a pencil on her desk, a habit of hers when she was frustrated.
Michael entered the hotel, carrying an armload of firewood. He wore faded, snug jeans that fit the man all too well and a dark blue sweater, which complimented his incredible eyes. Last week, he had his golden strands trimmed above his ears, flattering his chiseled features.
He turned to look at her with his lopsided grin and his gaze wavered over her in appreciation. Man, with one look, he could make her feel like she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.
“Just how did you know he was the one?” Loretta finally asked with an exasperating sigh.
Michael strode over to her, slipping his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him, relishing the warm strength he offered. Like the Archangel Michael, he would protect her at all costs and she would have his back, too. “What can I say, Loretta? The magic was in the kiss.”
The End
Author Notes:
Behind the Scenes – The Devil’s Chair
The Devil’s Chair or haunted chair is actually a memorial carved effigy. Graveyards included these chairs for comfort. They were meant for mourning chairs, a place for a person to sit in comfort while they visited their love one’s grave. Once the custom of these chairs fell into disuse, superstitions began, tripping a new legend into existence.
The urban legend of the Devil’s Chair varies, but one legend states: if you wander into the cemetery at midnight and sit in the chair something bad will happen to you.
Other legends believe it’s how many times you sit in the Devil’s Chair, three being the magic number for doom.
Sit in the chair once and you’ll have bad luck.
Sit in it for a second time and you’ll be cursed.
If you’re foolish enough to sit in it for a third time, death will claim you.
Still another legend believes if the person is brave enough to sit in the chair at midnight on Halloween night, he or she will be punished for impudence or rewarded for courage.
The Devil's Chair above is in the Mary Immaculate Cemetery of Kirksville. John C. Baird created this marble masterpiece.
About the Author:
Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband, three fascinating children, and houseful of demanding pets. Jack, her Chihuahua/Yorkshire terrier is her writing buddy and sits long hours with her at the compute
r.
Her book, Lost in the Mist of Time, was nominated for New Books Review Spotlight Best Fantasy Book of the Year Award 2006. A Twist of Fate was a nominee for Best Time Travel P.E.A.R.L. Award for 2008. Creighton Manor won Honorable Mention P.E.A.R.L. Award 2009.
Her new passion is creating book covers for Western Trail Blazers and Rebecca J. Vickery Publishing. In her spare time, she reviews books for PNR-Paranormal Romance Reviews.
Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, historical, or time travel, all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.
Visit the author at: http://www.kmnbooks.com
Stop by her blog for Monday interviews, chats and contests at:
http://kmnbooks.blogspot.com
Visit the author at www.kmnbooks.com.
Stop by her blog for Monday interviews, chats, and contests at kmnbooks.blogspot.com
For more stories of romance, adventure, mystery, suspense, fiction, and non-fiction please visit Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery online at
rebeccajvickery.com
A sneak peek at
Lucca: Warriors for the Light (Book 2, Fallen Angels Series)
Lucca had passed by the shops of the strip mall, halting in front of the Laundromat. He inhaled again and his body shuddered with pleasure, his pulse quickening at the sensation that swamped his body. “Dear Lord.” The fragrance came from within the Laundromat. His brows furrowed in disbelief. The scent couldn’t be laundry detergent, could it? If so, he wanted a bottle or two to take home.
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