Jovienne

by Linda Robertson

  She must have quickened because she kicked him repeatedly. He felt ribs break before he could even draw a breath to cry out. He retreated, but she used her grip on his wrist to jerk him close as she kicked his side again. It doubled him over.

  She released him. “Your flesh is so weak, but I want to savor killing you, so catch your breath.” She stepped away and paced back and forth before him. “Speaking of weak… teacher’s pet is weak.”

  He recalled two large wardrobes he’d seen upstairs. He needed to arm himself and was willing to bet Jovienne kept her weapons in them. But he had to get up there and reach them before Damnzel stopped him. He counted her steps as she paced. “She was strong when I first met her. She’s only gotten stronger.”

  “Strong? Ha!” Damnzel turned and paced before him. “She was weak-kneed for Araxiel. She might have been stronger if you had deflowered her, but it worked out for him. He got into her pants and she got the sword she wanted sooo bad.” Her brows lifted in mock surprise. “You didn’t know? Aw, look at you, poor baby. Hearing it from me must really chafe your balls.”

  Andrei shook his head in disagreement even as he noted the distance she paced.

  “If she’d ever gotten a taste of some cock, she might not have fallen to her knees to worship his as fast as she did.” Damnzel paced back, pausing to lean down and whisper in his ear. “But you wouldn’t fuck her, so she begged him to.” She giggled. Her fingertips lightly touched the nape of his neck, where sweat mingled with the blood seeping from the cinder’s bites. He stiffened, and groaned at the ache of moving.

  “I don’t think Araxiel will have her anymore, but my Master will.” Her fingers scraped down his spine as she moved past him. “He’ll teach her so much. He’ll make her like me, but she’ll be second. Second to me.”

  Calculating the distance, Andrei quickened to the steps and up to the second level. He heard Damnzel pursuing him. He rushed to the wardrobes and flung open a door grabbing for anything.

  Damnzel plowed into him. Andrei screamed; it felt like his own ribs had stabbed him from within. He managed to drag an armload of weaponry from the wardrobe as he went down. Daggers and knives skittered and bounced on the floor between them. A shield clanged down and rolled.

  She was on him in a flash, straddling his spread-eagle body and sitting on his injured ribs. He couldn’t breathe. “It’s been so long for you, hasn’t it? Want a reminder of what you’ve been missing?” She leaned down to kiss him.

  Andrei slammed his fist against the side of her head and knocked her away. This rolled him onto his side and he cried out even as he scrambled for a weapon of any kind. She rose smoothly and watched him struggle to get his knees under him.

  “Don’t stand on my account,” Damnzel said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m no lady.”

  Everything hurt. Andrei groaned, tasted blood, and forced himself onto his feet. Blood ran down his back and stinging sweat dripped into his jagged scratches.

  She closed in.

  Andrei readied the daggers and gestured at Damnzel’s reptilian arm. “You’re not a possessor or an imp or a changeling. Did Hell make a new classification for you?”

  “I have no class, but I was always a ten. Now, I’m a queen.”

  He laughed. “You think so?”

  “Your sweetie liberated me from a life of servitude. Now, I’ll be ruling in Hell for eternity. My Master will own her as well when this is over. Together, we will torture her. Forever.”

  Andrei backed up as she neared, both to keep her out of range and to move closer to the shield while not provoking a quickening from her. “Have you thought that through?”

  “Oh, yes. And how I will delight in her torment.”

  “No. I meant the other part. The queen part. I mean, you know those creatures transported you here, right?”

  “Of course. That’s how we demons get here, honey. How many times did you hit your head today?” she cooed.

  “A lot,” he said. “A lot. But I’m wondering, how are you getting back?”

  She stopped, squinting at him from the corner of her eye.

  He quickened, dropped the daggers, grabbed the shield that had fallen from the wardrobe, and slid it on his left arm. His right hand put a dagger into his left then reclaimed another from the floor. His head throbbed and his side burned cold for all this effort, but he had a bit of defense.

  “Feel better now?” she asked, unconcerned. “As soon as I kill you, I’ll return to him and take your dark dearie with me.”

  “You better pray she doesn’t die.”

  “You’re a fool, mortal,” she grinned. “I pray that she does die. A thousand times. At my hands.”

  He laughed again. “You call me the fool? You’re wasting time trying to kill me. You don’t even care that Jovienne’s Hellgate is the only way you can get back.”

  Damnzel’s mirth died. “What?”

  “You were an abhadhon, you know that once the creatures raise a demon, like you are now, here is where it stays, until it’s destroyed. Unless you crawl down Jovienne’s Hellgate. Only her Hellgate swings both ways.”

  “You lie.”

  “I don’t. But it’s pointless anyway. Her circle was sealed tight. Unless she wins up there and agrees to open another one for you, you’re not going back. No matter what.”

  “My Master cherishes me! I am to be his queen!”

  Andrei laughed derisively. “He cast you out.”

  “He will bring me back. Do you think he does not have other ways?” She batted her lashes trying to be coy, but he heard the doubt in her tone.

  “He got what he wanted from you. If he wanted more, he wouldn’t have sent you here to die. Sweetie.”

  She tsk-tsked. “Big words, from a mortal. You cannot defeat me.” She waved her claw at him, a sharp reminder.

  Andrei readied the shield on his left arm, adjusted his grip on the dagger in his right. “He sent you to keep me from interfering. Now we’re both conveniently out of the way.”

  Damnzel lunged. Andrei withdrew a quick pair of steps. She matched his retreat. He stomped his heel back for support to make a stand. Her dark claw swung. He missed the blow, but she compensated and advanced to shove him backward. He nearly fell, but recovered. She stalked him, menacing him with the dark claw. Using the ghost hands to guide him, he backpedaled into a support pillar. It was cold and stung the wounds on his bare back.

  She moved in, and he stabbed with the dagger, but her black claw curled around his forearm and squeezed, twisted, snapping his arm. Andrei cried out. The dagger fell from his grip. She released him and he sank to his knees.

  “You won’t win,” he said, leaning to the side, feeling dizzy and about to crumble. “No matter what you do to me, Jovienne will do the right thing.” His arm hung limp at his side, but he kept the shield in front of him.

  Damnzel growled. “Your little girl hasn’t done anything right.” She drew nearer, leaning into his face. “This will be no different.”

  Behind the shield, Andrei tucked the dagger against his forearm and gripped the hilt in his fist. He leaned the other way, trying to stay upright. He bent one knee up, heel on the floor to steady himself.

  Damnzel’s grasped the edge of the shield. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” She gave a tug. The shield slipped off. Before she’d even released it, he pushed up on his heel and shoved the dagger hilt-deep through the bottom of her jaw.

  The earth rumbled and shook, like a quake.

  A small sound was lost in her throat, her mouth unable to open and release it. Hellfire oozed at the base of the blade. He left the holy weapon in her head and allowed her slumping body to fall. Grabbing the other dagger from the floor, he stabbed it into her heart, then sawed it on her neck to sever her head.

  His broken arm hanging, he watched the body dissolve into black goo. He’d done it. Jovienne would have nothing to fear. He trudged tiredly toward the steps and collapsed at the top, unconscious.

  THIRTY-TWO

&nb
sp; ARAXIEL FELT PAIN.

  That double-crossing bitch had stuck a blessed blade into this body! There was only agony for him now. It spread from the wound and touched everywhere. He writhed, screaming in rage. He felt the second blade, the unholy golden sword.

  What the fuck is she doing?

  Araxiel coiled in Nathan’s stomach, swirling near this wound. All at once, he surged forth, ejecting himself through the cut flesh.

  WITHOUT WARNING, a dark miasma expelled from Nathan’s body. It slammed into Jovienne. She toppled over backwards, knocking the air from her lungs when she landed.

  All she knew was that she would be free when Nathan died and the circle fell. Araxiel and the Holy Spirit would be too, not that she was sure she could hold the Sanctus Spirit in the circle anyway, but she didn’t care about them. She had to save Andrei, but she couldn’t breathe.

  The black wraith swarmed around her, its sudden presence calling to the darkblood within her, and bringing it to the surface. Her senses electrified at the demon’s closeness and overloaded at its touch. She had sensed the power within Araxiel, but he had restrained it. Now, bodiless and desperate, the demon battered her with this energy.

  She let out a startled yell—air she couldn’t spare—and threw punches that passed right through the possessor.

  “Embrace me!” Araxiel hissed, scratching wildly across her chest. Welts rose up. “Let me into your heart.”

  “No,” she rasped.

  The demonic miasma gusted beneath her clothing, clawing at her. Jovienne rolled over and over, but that did not deter the demon.

  “Embrace me,” he said again.

  Jovienne’s roll stopped with her on her back. In her haste, she had rolled away from the smaller circle. Seeing the ring of blessed blades and knowing she could lock Araxiel in that circle, she rolled the other way.

  Nathan’s body fell, blocking her.

  The demon took her halt as a sign of assent. His intangible hands smoothed over her hair and slithered atop her body. “Let me lurk in those hollows where your love once rested. Let me fill you with utter contentment.”

  She fought to simply breathe.

  “Let me in, Jovienne. Let me give you the power to direct your own life. Imagine what we could do together!”

  “Jovienne.” The pain-wracked voice of the Holy Spirit reached through the fog in her mind.

  “You need me, Jovienne,” the demon argued, vying for her attention. “Only I will give you what you want.”

  She grabbed the two swords, pulling them from Nathan’s body even as she accessed the hallowed energy of the holy blade, took it within her, and threw it against her aura, blasting the demon with divine essence.

  Shrieking, Araxiel dodged away from her.

  Light emanated from Nathan’s skin, glowing bright as the Holy Spirit began to emerge, singing.

  Nathan had died. The circle fell. Araxiel rushed away and Jovienne laid in the ever-brightening light, relearning how to breathe. When she felt normal enough to move, she found she couldn’t. Immobilized by the glorious glow, she thought, Let me up! Let me save him!

  “Repent.” The voice of the Sanctus Spiritus was inside her head and booming through the expanse of the warehouse.

  Let me save Andrei!

  “Repent. Repent and I will wash away your sin.”

  It wanted her commitment. It wanted her acceptance. Doing so would ensure her slavery, but without her willfully given pledge, Andrei, her only family, would die. Yes. I repent. Anything. Just let me save Andrei!

  “What’s going on?” Eitan’s voice called out. It seemed to come from near the cement steps, but a second later he sounded closer when he asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Cleansing her.” The light grew brighter.

  ARAXIEL WAS DESPERATE. He had to get into a body and get that bitch Jovienne. He had to make her pay for her betrayal—and keep himself out of Hell.

  Andrei was the closest body. He was hurt. Bleeding profusely. And presently unconscious.

  The pedagogue would not be a good choice of host, but he was close and unprotected. He would take him and leave the warehouse, then find another body.

  He slid in through a deep bite on the man’s back.

  Immediately, he realized Andrei had lost too much blood. He could rouse the man, but he wasn’t going to be able to cover the distance to flee. Even if he escaped the warehouse, he couldn’t count on locals finding the body and getting it to a hospital in time to save it.

  His options were limited. He could stay in this body until it died and die with it, or he could leave the body and the grounds and die trying to reach a new host, or he could let Jovienne slay him.

  No. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Besides, he didn’t want to die. In ceasing to exist, though, I’ll not bathe in the Master’s fire for eons. The idea had merit.

  He remembered the scimitar. His first thought was to use this body and claim the weapon, wield it, and kill Jovienne. But even if this body possessed the skill to defeat an abhadhon, it didn’t have the strength now.

  Then he remembered the little circle. She had prepared it, but never used it. If he could get downstairs and get close, he could threaten this body and persuade her to open the Hellgate.

  It was a risk. He didn’t want to return to Hell in defeat and face Lucifer’s wrath…but he was willing to bet that, because his Master didn’t like to lose, there was a powerful demon waiting to come through. It wouldn’t be a possessor. It would be a fleshy one. And Araxiel could claim it. And in that fresh, strong body…he could yet win.

  A SCREAM BURNED from Jovienne’s throat. Electrified, her body stiffened and every nerve convulsed with heat and pain. Waves coursed over her, hot and thick like syrup, then cold pinpricks like snowflakes in a blizzard.

  Darkness closed over Jovienne and everything disappeared. There was so sound. No pain. Nothing but stillness floating in the dark.

  In the distance, she heard beeping, like a hospital heart monitor. Her chest hurt. She heard a whisper, “Jovienne… Jovienne… Jovienne.” It was a child’s voice. Nathan’s voice. Frozen razors sliced into her heart and her body iced over. She felt the hot breath of the test-demon on her ear as it laughed. Then, the pain faded and the easy dark stillness resumed. She heard Andrei reassure her, “I’ve got you.”

  With a whoosh she surfaced, every sense overloaded. She kicked and punched and grappled against anything and everything and nothing because she wasn’t truly moving. The light held her down.

  “It is done.”

  The heat and light diminished.

  “Jovienne?”

  Eitan. She opened her eyes. His worried expression cracked for a brief smile. “Andrei,” she said, rolling and scanning the space before fully coming to her knees. Andrei, shirtless and covered in seeping wounds, had descended the cement steps and limped toward them. For an instant, she felt relief. Then, something registered as wrong. His expression. His weak urgency. His arm, broken and flopping in a stomach-turning way. “Andrei!”

  She lurched to her feet, ready to race to his aid. Eitan grabbed her arm to hold her back, but she broke free. “Andrei!” As she neared him, she slowed. “Your arm.”

  “Damnzel…was a real bitch.” He did not stop for her to examine him. He pushed onward, his gaze drifting all around the space.

  Hurt and confused by his shunning of her, she watched him pass, and then gasped when she saw the bites and scrapes along his back. “You need to stop moving. You might be going to go into shock.” She hurried to catch him and reached for his arm.

  “I’ll be alright.” He shied from her and continued in a straight line, passing Eitan.

  The brown angel’s shoulders squared and he moved away from Andrei. “He is not himself.”

  Her ghost hands shot out and she sensed him. Araxiel. “The Sanctus Spiritus—”

  “Gone,” Eitan answered.

  Jovienne pulled the lion-headed dagger from her belt.

  Andrei pitched forward.
She thought he was falling but he grabbed the golden sword and spun around.

  THIRTY-THREE

  JOVIENNE’S HEART SANK. The last thing she wanted to do was fight Araxiel in Andrei’s body. She couldn’t kill Andrei. She wouldn’t. Not again.

  But that wasn’t the demon’s intent. The tip of the golden sword rose to Andrei’s throat.

  Jovienne shouted, “No! Don’t!”

  Andrei grinned wickedly and sidestepped to the small circle. “Open the Hellgate or he dies.”

  She drew a shaking breath to speak. “Okay, okay…for you. I will. But not for him. You can’t take him with you.”

  “You don’t make the rules anymore. Open it!”

  Jovienne sobbed. She wouldn’t send Andrei to Hell to suffer the same fate as Damnzel.

  “Better the man die now, rather than escort you home,” Eitan said.

  Andrei laughed. “This sword will take more than his life half-breed. It will eat his soul.”

  “Don’t!” Jovienne eased a step forward. “Don’t take him. I’ll open it, but you take me, instead.”

  “Jovienne, no,” Eitan said.

  “Deal,” Andrei said.

  Jovienne stared at the floor, at the silver sword laying between her and Andrei. She had an idea. Araxiel didn’t know her blood was already in the small circle.

  “No,” Eitan whispered.

  She took one step closer to Andrei. “I don’t trust you not to take him anyway. Give me a reassurance.”

  Andrei laughed. “No.”

  She looked around them again, let her gaze fall on the sword. “Trade blades with me.”

  “No. Open the Hellgate, now!”

  With her hands palm-out in a show of non-aggression she said, “I have to add my blood to it for it to work. If I take it with your sword, you know you’re getting my soul, and you have no reason to take his.”

  “You’d like me to put this one down, wouldn’t you?” He sneered. “I have a broken arm! I’m not falling for it.”

  “Then we do it this way.” Before he could object, she lowered herself to her knees. Reaching toward the blade of the silver sword, she turned it so the hilt was toward him, and then she pushed it slowly to his feet.