Bonds of Darkness

by Joyce Ellen Armond

  The words hit her like a lightning bolt, numbing every physical sensation. If he killed Sander after the ritual ... She twisted away from him, wrenching herself free from his thrusts. “You can't!” If he killed Sander after the ritual, he'd have one year before the demon took him. “You can't do that!” She scrambled off the bed to stand with her back against the wall, gasping for breath.

  Paul came to his knees. His erection bobbed, searching for her. His eyes were dazed with arousal. “There is no other way, Kate."

  "Of course there is another way!"

  "No!” He slashed his arm in denial. Weaving like a drunk, he climbed to his feet. “I won't allow it!"

  She wanted to go to him, take him into her again and again until the sun set. But ... “A year isn't long enough, Paul."

  "It's all I have!"

  His shout reverberated through the bones in her chest.

  He lunged, trapping her between the wall and his body. “Don't you get it? I couldn't survive it if you died for me."

  Kate couldn't help herself. She wound her arms around his neck. “You can't die unless Sander kills you."

  He leaned into her, his forehead resting against hers. She could feel the sweat cooling on his arms, legs, and back. “There are worse things than dying."

  She felt her heart break, a palpable crack somewhere deep inside.

  "Please, Kate. Promise me you won't."

  I can't make that promise.

  She pressed her mouth against his, climbed his body until she locked her ankles at the small of his back. He slipped so easily inside her, as if she had been made to take him in. He thrust once. Twice. Then he groaned and she felt the orgasm shake him. She unwound her legs. The moment she was stable on her feet again, he slid down her body to his knees.

  "Thank you,” he whispered against the skin of her stomach.

  "I'm sorry,” she whispered back, and carefully stepped out his embrace.

  "I'm sorry, too.” He stayed on his knees, kept his head bowed. “I wish I could give you more, Kate. I wish..."

  Moving quickly and quietly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, not bothering with underwear.

  "I wish I'd had the courage to keep you out of this mess altogether,” Paul said.

  Kate slipped her feet into a pair of old leather loafers. “I'm glad you didn't."

  Paul laughed softly. “You are the most courageous person I've ever known, Kate Scott, but...” He finally turned, and saw her dressed. “What are you doing?"

  She put her hands on her hips. “Vern said he needs most of the afternoon to get me ready."

  Paul stared at her blankly. “What?"

  "I'm going to do it, Paul. I'm going to save you."

  His jaw came open. “But, you promised."

  "I finished making love to you. I didn't promise anything."

  She opened the door and slipped into the hallway.

  "Kate!"

  She took the stairs at a run.

  "Kate!” His footfalls thundered behind her.

  In the kitchen his hand caught the hem of her sweatshirt, but she twisted and danced away.

  "Kate!"

  She burst through the back door and ran down the little hill to her Chevy. She threw herself behind the wheel and turned the key. The motor turned over smoothly.

  "Kate!"

  Paul stood in the doorway, not willing to chase her down while he was naked.

  "If you think I'm going to lose you,” Kate whispered to him, “you're crazy."

  She backed out of her parking place and spun out of the alley.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Paul jammed his feet into the largest pair of shoes Kate had bought. His toes crunched together as he tied the laces as loosely as he dared. At least the t-shirt and sweats fit. He stutter-stepped down the stairs, leaped from Kate's porch, and started running toward Lincoln Avenue.

  If she thinks I'll let her throw her life away, she's out of her mind.

  He repeated the mantra as he ran through the rain, sinking in the grass as he dodged around swing-sets and back-yard pools. When he got to Minniver Lane, the sidewalk buckled into a moonscape, and the road was littered with debris from the half-built house. His crushed toes couldn't take the uneven jolts. Damn shoes. He limped as fast as he could, trying to ignore the rain, keeping himself from screaming and shouting in sheer frustration.

  How could she do this to him? How could she abandon him? Sander would kill her, torture her, use her agony to break the last thinning cords of Paul's will. She thought she was saving him, but she was really damning him as completely and thoroughly as he deserved.

  He stumbled on a root jutting out of the crumbled concrete. Toe bones ground together inside the cruelly narrow shoes. Pain flashed up his left ankle. Rain shook in a curtain from his bangs and cascaded onto his nose, sending him into a flurry of sneezes. He scrubbed his hand across his face and limped on.

  He'd never been so afraid in all his life. Not since the black shadow of the demon lifted out of Alina's corpse. Not since the first time it burst out of him at sundown. At the thought of Kate dying for him, every cell in his body pulsed with soul-deep terror.

  Finally, finally, he turned the corner onto Lincoln and smooth pavement. He tugged off the shoes, threw them in the ditch and started running. His toes felt so happy to be free from constriction that his nerves barely registered the cold of the cement and the puddles he splashed through.

  He was right, and that was that. He was going to stop her, no matter what he had to do. He wouldn't let her die. And he wasn't going to Europe with Sander. His way was the only way. He was sure of it.

  Except that at heart level—and he could feel it while he ran, his breath deep and fast—something pulsed and twitched. Like Kate's body, just before...

  What if she can do it?

  The irrational hope trickled down past his heart into the prison. He felt the demon lift its head and taste it. With an internal wail, it rattled the bones of his ribs with an unspoken challenge. What if Kate could do it?

  Paul caught himself on the wrought iron garden gate, the spikes poking into his ribs. Rain pelted him as his lifted his face. The first and second floor windows of his house were dark and still in the morning light. Lights flickered in the basement window wells. Sander was down there, laying the magic circle that would hold Paul once the sun went down, marking out the pentagram that would imprison the demon once he extracted it from Paul's body.

  What if she can't? What if she dies? Paul leaned on the gate as he sent the message down through his cells, wishing the iron spikes could reach inside and pierce the demon's irrational hope. What if she dies?

  He had to get to Laurie's house and stop Kate. He remembered all too well the look on Gloria's face when she died. He remembered her eyes, wide and white. She'd broken through Sander's protective wards, but she'd come through unhinged, insane. He remembered her shriek, the trickle of creamy white foam from the side of her mouth. She'd strangled to death on whatever had been in those wards. She'd died slowly as Sander worked the spell, her heels drumming a counterpoint rhythm to Sander's chanting. She'd died with horror permanently etched on her face.

  Paul pulled himself away from the gate, still breathing hard. He threw himself behind the Mercedes’ wheel, turned the key. The engine ignited, eager to serve him.

  If she thinks I'll let her throw her life away, she's out of her mind.

  Paul knew he'd do anything to stop her, to save her. Anything.

  * * * *

  If he thinks I'm just going to lie back and accept this, he's not cursed, he's crazy.

  Kate silently recited the mantra as she pushed the little blue Chevy as fast as it could go around the rural road's tight corners. Relentless rain sheeted against her windshield. She almost missed the half-hidden turnoff into the trees, had to slam on the brakes. Her tires spun in the wet leaves lining the wagon tracks leading to the witches’ house. The car slid to a stop near the porch.

  How could he e
ver imagine that a year would be enough? She imagined that year, every happy moment soured by the relentless ticking countdown toward the October full moon. She imagined how it would feel, watching the demon's form swallow Paul for the last time. Horror like old copper pennies rose on her tongue.

  She hadn't been able to save Ellie. He hadn't been able to save Alina.

  I'm going to save him.

  She darted from the car through the rain, took the porch steps two at a time. She pounded on the door, both fists against the wood. “Laurie! Vern!"

  The door opened mid-pound. Vern took a step back. Kate stopped her fist before it came down on his face.

  "He's not cursed, he's crazy,” she blurted into Vern's shocked face. She pushed her way into the house. “I'm here. I'm ready. Let's go."

  "Hold up.” Vern closed the door and faced Kate with his hands on his hips. “You can't go into this all wound up and crazy."

  "I'm not crazy. He's the one who's crazy.” Kate was already halfway to the kitchen. “Did he tell you his big one-year plan?"

  Vern trailed behind. “What are you talking about. Kate?"

  Kate jerked to a stop at the edge in Vern's tone. “What?"

  "Stop moving.” Vern caught up with her and put a firm hand on each of her shoulders. “Just stop moving and breathe."

  Kate took a deep breath. Her skin crawled with adrenaline bugs. “I might be a little wound up, but I'm not crazy."

  Vern nodded, but Kate saw lingering doubt in his eyes. “That's a little better. I'll make you some tea.” He released her, turned towards the stove.

  "I don't want tea,” Kate protested. “I want to get going. I want to kick some sorcerer ass.” She certainly didn't want to think too hard about what she was about to do. She just wanted to get it done.

  Without turning his head, Vern pointed to a chair. “Sit."

  Kate bristled at the presumptive tone. “I don't take orders too well. Ask Paul."

  "You're going to have to take our orders, if you want to live through this."

  Kate jerked her head towards the kitchen door. Laurie stood there, leaning heavily on her cane.

  "You shouldn't be out of bed.” Vern rushed to her side and helped her into the nearest chair. “I can handle this."

  "No, you can't.” Laurie squeezed Vern's arm to take the sting out her words. “I'll be fine."

  With her ash-colored skin and the deep, sunken circles around her eyes, Kate doubted it. But if it had been Kate who'd worked for fifty years to free Paul, she would stare death down and not let anyone stop her. Laurie and Vern were as committed as she was. She had no choice but to trust them. She eased herself into a chair and sat on the very edge, her knees bouncing a nervous rhythm.

  "I'm ready.” Kate said. “I'm ready to do whatever it takes to break the curse."

  Laurie settled her head against the back of her chair and sighed, loudly. “My dear girl..."

  Kate hackles went up.

  "...it isn't a question of doing whatever it takes. Whatever you're capable of doing will have to suffice."

  "Rah, rah, go team.” Kate slicked the words with sarcasm to cover the fear curling up her spine. She hadn't been able to save Ellie, not from her husband, not from her terror. What made her think she would be capable of saving Paul from a hundred-year-old sorcerer?

  Doubt must have sat plainly on her face. Both Laurie and Vern fell silent, watching her, waiting for some kind of decisive action.

  What did she know about spells and curses? All she knew was how to beat her head up against the wall of her problems until one of them broke. Usually her head.

  "Kate.” Laurie's tone drew Kate's eyes out of her internal dialog. “Can you do it?"

  She didn't have any other choice. Not if she wanted a life with Paul. “Tell me what you want me to do."

  Laurie nodded, apparently satisfied. Vern took over, as Laurie looked worn out just from speaking.

  "We're going to use Sander's own magic against him, by turning you into a great big magical battery for him to charge."

  Kate's imagination filled with visions of jumper cables and alligator clips in all the wrong places. “How bad is it going to hurt, this charging thing?"

  "I don't know,” Vern said, brutally and honestly. Kate saw anger and frustration in his eyes, and understood how much he wished he could take her place in this fight.

  "How do I use the magic once I get it?"

  Vern stared at her for a moment, then turned to Laurie. “This is never going to work. I was wrong. It has to be me that goes."

  "No.” Laurie and Kate spoke simultaneously.

  Kate nodded. She didn't know how she knew it, but Laurie was right. She had to be the one. Paul hadn't saved Alina. She hadn't saved Ellie. There was a pattern here that only Kate and Paul and Sander could complete.

  "We go into this,” Laurie said, speaking to Vern but clearly intending Kate to get the message, too, “assuming that the Goddess is on our side, and Kate will not be completely without guidance."

  The Goddess. Kate's civil service-obsessed family had been strictly secular. Religion had been shunned. She'd never attended church or temple unless it was for a wedding or funeral. She had no sense of the spiritual, no connection to anything she considered divine. Now, she was expected to take orders from some goddess?

  Kate dropped her head into her hands and scrunched her fingers in the curls. “Maybe Vern is right. Maybe this isn't going to work."

  "As within so without, Kate,” Laurie said, an edge of real fear in her tone. “If you don't believe, it will never be."

  Kate forced herself to focus on the stakes: her life, Paul's life, even the demon's life. The demon had shielded her from Sander. She owed it. She had to do her best. She sat up straight, filled her lungs with a deep, cleansing breath.

  Okay.

  She stood, spine tall, and affirmed in a clear, strong voice: “I am going to allow a pair of witches with boring names turn me into a big magical fuel cell, suck the energy out of some hundred year old sorcerer, and listen to guidance from a deity I've never met so that I can free my boyfriend from a demon."

  The words fell onto the kitchen floor like wet noodles and banana peels. Laurie and Vern stared at her.

  "Let's do it.” Hysterical laughter bubbled in Kate's chest. She gave them a double thumbs-up. “I'm ready."

  Vern dropped into a chair and cradled his head in his hands.

  Laurie, however, pulled herself to her feet. “Let's do it."

  "You can't be serious,” Vern said, not bothering to lift his head.

  "I don't have any other choice,” Laurie said, and the pain in her voice was sharp enough to make Kate bleed inside for her. She was this woman's last, best hope, scary as that sounded.

  "We'll begin with a ritual bath,” Laurie said to Kate. “The process is simple. First we cleanse you. Make you a blank slate. Then we enchant you, so that when Sander touches you or you touch Sander, power will jump from him to you."

  "He has to touch me or I have to touch him?” Kate shivered at the idea of getting that close to Sander. “If he touches me, he's likely to be trying to strangle me."

  Laurie shrugged. “Whatever gets you close enough."

  Kate should have felt a chill at those words, but instead a strange sense of warmth tingled through her nerves. She turned an instant before the front door slammed, before heavy footfalls raced up the hallway, and Paul burst into the kitchen.

  "Kate!"

  Rainwater dripped from his hair, his chin, the bushy ridge of his eyebrows. He wore the sweats and t-shirt she'd bought him, but they were splotchy and drenched. No shoes, yet somehow he managed to look beautiful and noble.

  "Sander will kill you. Don't you understand?"

  Underneath the words, Kate heard the unspoken. If Sander killed her, Paul would be left in a hell worse than trapped forever in the demon.

  "He will, you know,” Vern added. “Kill you."

  Kate whirled on him. “I have had about enough o
f your gloom and doom, buster."

  Laurie stood leaning on her cane. She stared at Paul with so much regret and frustration, hate, and desire that Kate had to turn away. When she did, she found that Paul had come close, so close that she could smell his skin through the rain water. She could smell her own musk on him, too. Her pulse jumped and began to beat in places other than her heart.

  "Kate.” Paul's hands closed on her shoulders.

  "I can do this, Paul."

  "Listen to me, please."

  How could she ignore him? Her skin shivered to feel his touch even through her blouse. The dark blue stars of his eyes caught her and held her as strongly as his arms.

  "You'll be right in the center of his power."

  "They have a plan.” Kate could sense Vern and Laurie behind her. “He touches me or I touch him, and I'll have part of his power."

  Paul shook his head. Raindrops spattered against Kate's face. “It's not that easy. The curse drives us both. You'll be fighting against all of that, and your own fear."

  "I'm not afraid.” The lie came out thin and quavering.

  Paul cupped her face in both his hands. “But I am."

  "Kate.” Laurie's voice sounded like nails on a blackboard. “We don't have much time."

  Paul rested his forehead against Kate's. He pulled her up against his body, and she felt the dampness of his shirt seeping into her own. “I didn't tell you everything ... before."

  Fear turned Kate rigid. What else could there be?

  "Sander wants me to join him.” Paul breathed the words into her ear. “He expects me to go back with him to Europe after the ritual and be his,” his voice stumbled, “his immortal companion."

  The implications rolled through Kate like sour milk. Her hands slid up his arms and anchored into his biceps. “You have to let me do this, Paul."

  "I'm afraid,” he whispered. “I can't."

  Kate pulled back from his embrace and found that the fear in his voice sat naked and unashamed on his face. “I can't let him have you, Paul. Not without a fight."

  Paul's fear ignited into anger. “Don't you get it?” he shouted into her face. “If you die, I have nothing! I'll be nothing! I can't risk it!"