Corpse Curses

by Jen Ponce

  “Giving up.”

  The whiny part of me wanted to lash out at him. ‘You don’t want me anyway, you want her.’ But I’d never really been the whiny type and so I shoved that shit away. “I’m not giving up, fuck face.”

  His grin was splintered but welcome. I clutched him as they worked on me, as Stolas guided me through the words to say to try to rein in the whiplash of the knife’s energy. It felt like razor wire dragging through my flesh. Why? Was the queen of Hell inside me? And was she trying to claw her way out?

  Abaddon was in my face, his tattoos alive in the rippling chaos. They looked like tentacles, felt like tentacles as they wound around me. His magic punched into me, touching me, touching the person I really was instead of chasing the magic that was hers. No lie, I liked that he sought me. I liked that he hadn’t just gone diving for something but had deliberately set out to find me.

  And he did.

  “What are you doing, Abaddon?” Stolas shouted. “She’s there. We just have—”

  “She’s all we need,” the crazy-eyed demon said, almost dreamily.

  “She’s ours,” Lux said.

  “Ours indeed,” Malphas added.

  “Baphomet. Tell them. We need Lilith, not this mortal—”

  Baphomet studied me, her cat’s eyes curious, assessing. “Maybe she is exactly what we need. Lilith could have chosen her for a reason. Do we dare doubt our queen’s wisdom?”

  Stolas sputtered but he knew he was outvoted.

  The female demon shrugged. “I say she’s ours too.”

  Abaddon swam into view, his eyes piercing. “Korrinthe Jean Marchand Kronos, come back to me now.”

  Something bubbled up inside me, something harsh and caustic. I thought it—she—would explode forth from my eyes, but then Lux was there, and Malphas, and even Baphomet and they all said, “No.”

  We want her.

  They wanted me.

  The magic inside me stopped struggling. It cooled, it trickled throughout my veins, it soaked into my flesh, into my bones. It was me in a way it had never been before. It wasn’t a dark section, a segment, a walled-off oddity.

  I was whole in a way I hadn’t been since I was six and my feet broke my grandparents’ circle.

  I was me … but more.

  “What were you thinking?” Malphas asked as I sat up, my head still spinning from the assault. He was talking to Stolas, who was glowering at us.

  “That she stole our queen!”

  My skin felt like was it was on fire. My joints ached, but my vision was clear. Win. “I didn’t steal anyone’s queen.”

  “No, but your grandparents tried.”

  I shook my head, automatically denying it but what did I know about that night, truly? I knew magi kept demons as slaves. I knew my grandmother was a member of the Lodge, as my grandfather had been. Maybe they had tried capturing Lilith that night for reasons I couldn’t explain. “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to ask Grandmother what happened that night.”

  “And if she tried to enslave her?” Abaddon asked.

  “Then she deserves to die like the rest of them.” The words stung more than I thought they would. She was my grandmother after all. I disliked her, but she was my mama’s mother. It would be like hurting her.

  Lux laid a hand on my arm and warmth slid into me, his magic protective and healing. It soothed the fire and the ache. “Thank you.”

  He kissed my jaw and Stolas made a disgusted noise. “You are all entranced by her, but it isn’t her. It’s our queen that you sense, our queen that you lust for.”

  “I did not fish our queen out of that miasma you forced on her,” Abaddon said mildly. It was so mild I knew he was banking a terrible anger. “I chose Korri. We all did.”

  “Chose her over Lilith!”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Why?”

  That question again. Stolas sounded agonized and I wondered at his pain.

  “Because she freed us,” Lux said. “Not Lilith.”

  “Our queen hid in Hell as surely as you did, Stolas,” Abaddon said, and the blond demon flinched at the words. He also vanished without saying anything else.

  “He was her son,” Baph murmured and suddenly it made sense.

  If I thought my mama was trapped in some stranger, there was no way I’d give a shit about that stranger’s life. I’d want to free her at all costs. “Shit,” I said.

  “Don’t feel sorry for him,” Abaddon growled. “He’s a coward.”

  “And he just lost his mother for a second time. That’s a tough blow.”

  Abaddon dismissed Stolas’s pain with a careless wave of his hand. “We need to finish what we were supposed to do. Protect all of us from the magi until we can release more of our kind and end them all.”

  For a moment, they all looked at each other, stymied. I had no idea what to do and felt about as useful as an umbrella in a hurricane.

  Abaddon suddenly smiled. “We dedicate her to the throne.”

  I didn’t know what this meant, but everyone else gaped at him.

  “You want to make her queen of Hell?” Baphomet looked equal parts intrigued and horrified.

  Abaddon shrugged. “Lilith is a part of her, or is that not what Stolas so crudely demonstrated not minutes ago?”

  “Our lord is gone,” Malphas said. “I don’t know that he would like us to do such a thing in his absence.”

  “That’s right. He’s gone. Left his duties and fucked off his responsibilities to his people. He’s gone. He doesn’t get a say. We do.”

  Lux’s arm had gotten tighter and tighter as they spoke, and I glanced up at him. “What?” I asked softly.

  “Abaddon’s a crazy fool,” he murmured. “Though perhaps he’s also a brilliant fool.”

  “I am all three. Crazy. Brilliant. And a fool.” His ice-blue eyes gleamed. “We gather the Folk who remain in Hell and put it to a vote. If she’s dedicated to the throne, they can’t touch her.”

  I frowned. “They made a grab for Lilith, though. M-my grandparents.” The words still felt wrong on my tongue. Surely they wouldn’t have …

  “Our silly, infatuated lord wanted her all for himself, and so she dedicated herself to him and he to her. She no longer had the protection of her throne when your grandparents summoned her. It was why they were able to summon her.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “They thought themselves untouchable,” Lux murmured. “Who would dare steal the queen of Hell from her king?”

  Who indeed? Damn you, Grandmother.

  Abaddon had such a satisfied look on his face it was almost funny. A cat who’d caught the mouse and won the cream. “And so, we dedicate Korri and thus keep her safe.”

  “If that would keep me safe, then you all should be dedicated as well,” I said. “All of us together.”

  “You want to just appoint yourselves rulers of Hell without our lord’s blessing?” Baphomet asked, amused.

  “Our lord fucked off to Hecate knows where. He lost his say when he gave up on us,” Abaddon said coldly.

  “Let’s take her to the City of Thrones, then, and round up those who are left. She can meet them and they her, and then we’ll take our vote. If they don’t accept her, then we will figure out something else to protect us all.” Malphas smiled at me. “I do not think they will reject her, however. And then you will have to make a decision.”

  “What decision?”

  “Whether you want to remain a mortal or take the gift Abaddon wishes to give you.”

  Oh, right. That.

  “Are you all right?” Lux asked.

  No! Yes! I don’t know! The words shouted in my head, churning around with a thousand questions. What did dedication to the throne mean? What would happen if we were all dedicated to it? Would I be required to spend time in Hell? Would I have duties? What if their lord came back and was not happy with the changes we’d made that they’d voted on?

  “Whatever happens next, we will be a
t your side,” Lux said.

  The idea was so novel, I took time to roll it around in my brain. They would be by my side. All of them? All these strange, beautiful, powerful demons that I’d freed? It seemed too good to be true. “Are you sure? Can it be reversed or whatever if you decide you don’t want to—”

  Malphas kissed my hand. “There are stories about witches living in Hell and demons living in your world. Hecate wished it to be so and so it was until the magi killed her. Think of it as returning to our roots.”

  “Think of it as reclaiming what was ours,” Abaddon murmured, his eyes gleaming.

  “Safety, power, and more than a few orgies,” Baphomet added. “I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  I snorted, glad she’d managed to lighten the mood a bit. Still, there was something I had to ask before I said yes. “Will you … will you help me save Poppy?”

  “Of course,” Lux said. “We’ll do whatever we can to win her free.”

  Even if she hated me, I wouldn’t let her rot in a prison or hang.

  Looking at them, at Malphas’s serious grey eyes, the battle-light in Abaddon’s, Baphomet’s sly smile, and Lux’s easy strength, I thanked my lucky stars I’d broken that amulet in the alley. It had changed my life so completely … and it had changed me, too. I wouldn’t go back and do anything differently, however this war with the magi turned out.

  With them, I wasn’t half-magi, half-witch, someone who didn’t fit fully into either world. With them, I was whole.

  With them, I was me.

  “I’m in,” I said. Whatever came our way, we would face it together.

  Other books by Jen

  Raster City Series (Reverse Harem)

  Raster City Rebel: Book 1

  Raster City Rogues: Book 2

  Raster City Rumble: Book 3

  Devany Miller Series (Dark Urban Fantasy)

  The Bazaar: Book 1

  Slip Song: Book 2

  Demon’s Cradle: Book 3

  World Weaver: Book 4

  Soul Hook: Book 5

  Other novels:

  Blood Curse (Lesbian vampires)

  Bug Queen (Lesbian apocalypse)

  Burning the Devil (Psychological horror)

  Counting on Your Love (Light-hearted romance)

  Short Story Collections

  Things That Creep (Horror)

  Touch but a Web (Horror … and SPIDERS!)

  Anthologies

  The Dragon’s Rocketship Presents: Hex Support

  The Dragon’s Rocketship Presents: Scribe’s Journal

  Sins of the Past

  Sins of the Future

  Tied in Pink

  Winter Wishes

  Whispers from the Shadows

  Deadsteam

  Challenge Accepted

  About the Author

  I haven’t changed this in a while and thought I’d mix it up this time around.

  I think it’s kind of fun and awesome that I’m writing romance again after all these years. I started reading it when I was 13. If you’re old enough, you probably remember the Zebra Historicals from the 80s. Yeah. My mother was SO ANNOYED AND HORRIFIED when she realized I was reading these books. My friend Becky got them from her mom and she passed them onto me.

  Hey Mom? It could have been crack. Aren’t you glad it wasn’t crack?

  One day, I picked up Misery by Stephen King and I only did that because it had a spoof historical romance cover on it. But when I read it, I was hooked on horror and horror was what I wrote for a while.

  Fantasy came next, specifically urban fantasy, because I LOVE LOVE LOVE strong women in books. That was my one major problem with those historical romance books of the 80s. The women were pushovers. They caved to the guy. Even if they had a job or a talent they were using, the second that dude said, “I love you,” she would throw it all away to be with him.

  That wasn’t quite my idea of romance and it was probably why I moved away from it for so long.

  Nowadays, there are a helluva lot more romances with kickass women and I love them. And now there’s more understanding of bisexuality, polyamory, and all sorts of other awesome things. Reverse harem is one of those genres that really makes me happy, though I still want a kickass heroine, not a weak one. (I know that everyone is different and that’s why it’s so awesome to have such variety. Everyone can find something they love. Romance authors are cool that way.)

  Final thing before I stop blathering. Way back in high school, at our senior prom, they did a “predict everyone’s future” schtick. They predicted that me and my two besties: Becky and Kathy, would be living far apart but would be as famous as Danielle Steele.

  They got the far apart thing right, but they never expected any of us to really make a living writing romance.

  This is where I get to say, “Yeah, baby. I’m living the dream.” That’s thanks to all you awesome, amazing, and passionate romance readers out there who enjoy love stories.

  Thank you. You. Rock.

  Jen lives in the Panhandle of Nebraska, with her boys, her cats, her dogs, her pleco Maleficent and a large supply of books that help insulate the house in the winter and expand her mind.

  She loves connecting on Twitter (@JenPonceAuthor) and Facebook (www.Facebook.com/JenPonceAuthor) You can also send her email and she'll write back. Visit www.JenniferPonce.com to figure out how to do all the above.