Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4

by Jodi Redford

  “Go to him,” Cass prompted softly.

  “It won’t do any good.”

  “Yes, it will. Sam needs someone strong enough to break through his defenses.”

  Marabella sniffled. “And you think that’s me?” Boy, wasn’t that a joke. She couldn’t exactly be called the strongest person on earth. It’d taken her years to move out of her mom’s house and make a go at being her own woman. There were still days when she was terrified of her mom. Then again, everyone was terrified of Domino. Still, she couldn’t overlook her constant fear of the guild finding out about her and Sam. But on the flipside, she was about to commit to the staggering and crazy prospect of making him her familiar despite knowing the enormous ramifications in store for her.

  Maybe she wasn’t the timid weakling she’d always feared she was.

  “You broke through Sam’s seal,” Nikki pointed out. “I’d say that’s a good indicator his defenses are no match for your amazing superpowers.”

  Wow. Superpowers. The notion was pretty incredible for a girl whose prior claim to fame was manifesting mutant balloon people. She gnawed on her lip before shooting Cass and Nikki an uncertain glance. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

  “Just tell him what’s in your heart,” Cass said with an encouraging smile.

  Right. If she did that, for sure he’d run for the hills. Swallowing past the trepidation balled in her throat, she took a hesitant step toward the doorway. Then another. Before she knew it, she was halfway down the hall. Sucking in a steadying breath, she walked into her bedroom. Sam stood at the window, his back to her. She fidgeted with the sash of her robe and wondered if it was possible to feel any more lost and insecure than she did at that moment.

  “I care what you want,” she finally said in a small voice.

  Sam’s shoulders stiffened. “Why? What difference does it make?”

  “Because you have a voice, whether you believe it or not. And you have the right to use it.”

  He uttered a hollow, humorless laugh. “Babe, the only right I have is to eat, sleep and indulge in the occasional fuck. That’s been my existence for one hundred and three years. Not that I’m complaining. Hell, things could be worse.”

  “That’s not a life, Sam. It’s merely going through the motions.”

  “Yep.” He braced his arm on the window frame and continued staring at some unseen sight that apparently held him riveted. “Easier that way.”

  “It couldn’t have made you happy.”

  He turned to face her, his expression flat. “Happiness is a fucking illusion. Insubstantial, fleeting, and about as real as purple unicorns and the damn Easter bunny. The only way to make it in this world is to rip off those rosy blinders and face the ugly reality, Bella. Otherwise it’ll kill you before you’ve even gasped your first breath.”

  Pain and sorrow filled every chamber of her heart. “You’re wrong. It doesn’t have to be that way. There’s light and goodness in this world too. It’s not all dark and gloom.”

  He shoved away from the window and stalked toward her. “It is when I’m the dark gloom. That’s what I’m born of, babe. There was no angel standing over my cradle, nursing me on all that do-gooder bullshit.” He spread his arms wide. “I’m the fucking personification of evil. And you know what? I damn well like it that way.”

  “Because it’s easier.”

  He frowned.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You chose to exist as pure evil, rather than experience guilt and the heaviness of your conscience. Especially when you steal souls for a living.”

  “Don’t try to make it sound like I made that a conscious choice, sweetheart. In case you weren’t paying attention earlier, I pointed out that I was born this way. And I didn’t have a damn conscience to lug around until you came into the picture and ruined me.”

  She decided to overlook his misguided surliness at the end of his pronouncement. “According to Cass, demons do have some conscience.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, and it’s about as big as a gnat.”

  “I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

  He stacked his arms over his chest. “What, you’re an expert on the size of my damn conscience now?”

  “I think burying your conscience was a coping mechanism you devised in order to survive.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Coping mechanism? Hell, you and Cass must have studied at the same school of BS psychoanalysis.”

  “See? Your sarcasm is another form of protective armor.”

  “I don’t shield myself from anything.” A muscle tic in his jaw belied his words. “I’m not the one building illusions to hide from harsh reality.”

  “No, but you fixated on the ugliness until it became your rosy blinders, Sam. It became the illusion that buried your conscience.”

  Some dark emotion flickered in his eyes, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the vulnerable Sam behind the blinders. Then it was gone. “Congratulations. You’ve officially come up with the most asinine theory of how my mind operates.”

  An angry retort sprang to her mouth, only to be defeated by the phantom of Cass’s voice inside her head. Sam needs someone strong enough to break through his defenses. Cass was right. Sam used his words like bullets, a deadly adversary to anyone who dared get too close. But he could fire them at her all he wanted. She wouldn’t drop and play dead.

  “I understand why you had to armor yourself to endure your existence with Nettie. And I can even understand why the thought of ever having to tie yourself to another witch is so abhorrent to you. Which is why I’m giving your voice back. I won’t go along with the branding without your mutual consent.”

  He eyed her mutely for a long moment, his expression guarded. “Why does it matter to you if I give it or not?”

  “I’m not like Nettie and that council you keep referring to. I believe in things being equal.”

  “This isn’t a partnership.”

  “It could be.”

  He grunted. “You really are batshit crazy.” His gaze turned considering. “Would I still get to fuck you?”

  Yes please. “Only if you stop referring to me as batshit crazy.”

  “That’s gonna be tough.” He strode to the door and shut it before twisting the lock with a wicked grin that made her panties damp. “But in the spirit of getting this partnership off the ground, I’m willing to give it a try.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Marabella gaped at the assemblage of candles and incense burners scattered around her living room. “My apartment is going to smell like a Turkish bazaar.”

  Cass looked up from the collection of oil decanters she was in the process of arranging on the coffee table. “We could always open some windows.”

  “It’s hitting eighty degrees outside. I’ll live with the smell.” Marabella picked up one of the colorful decanters and uncorked it. The earthy scent of patchouli tickled her sinuses. “Actually, this one is really nice. High quality.” She glanced at Cass. “What exactly will I be doing with it though?”

  “Anointing Sam’s back.”

  Cass’s answer triggered the recollection of the faded tattoo Marabella had glimpsed last night. “The tattoo was his seal, wasn’t it?”

  “Technically, no. It was underneath it. Sam had the tat done a few years ago to cover it up.”

  “Why?”

  Cass shrugged. “Sam told me he got drunk at Mardi Gras one year and did it on a whim. Personally, I think there’s something deeper to it than that. But you know him. He’s not going to admit it.”

  Marabella lowered the bottle back to the table and sighed. Convincing a Rottweiler to give up a T-bone was easier than getting Sam to open up about anything. As she’d recently figured out, the only time he truly let down his guard was during sex. Her cheeks heated as she mentally replayed the lusty lovemaking they’d partaken in earlier to seal their partnership. She’d tried to remain quiet out of embarrassment of Cass and Nikki overhearing, which had only served to make Sam even more dete
rmined to make her scream in ecstasy. She’d come dangerously close a few times—no pun intended—but ultimately she’d won that battle. He’d be getting some major payback later though.

  Heavy clomping on the stairs announced Nikki was on her way up with more items Cass had sent her out for. “I think I cleaned out Charmed Moon’s stock of quartz crystal and moonstone.”

  The mention of Charmed Moon speared a tiny sliver of panic through Marabella. Her friends and colleagues from the Beaumont coven ran the metaphysical shop here in Savannah. If Nikki had mentioned Marabella’s name, Clarissa and the others would probably be curious about the unusually large purchase of practitioner gemstones.

  Marabella cut off her worried musings before they could go any further. Damn it, she’d made the decision to stop being a paranoid wuss. She was a strong woman. With superpowers. If her sister witches or the guild didn’t approve of what she was doing, that was their problem. She’d made her choice, and she intended to stick by it.

  Nikki plunked the box onto the carpet and stretched her arms over her head. “So where’s the demon of the hour?”

  Cass scooped a handful of the stones from the box and fiddled with their placement on the large black velvet cloth she’d spread in the center of the room. “In the bathroom, taking a shower. But he should be done by now. Maybe you could go let him know we’re about ready to get this show on the road.”

  “Will do, boss.” Nikki paused for a moment. “Speaking of boss, Pops finally called me with a job. I…told him I’d think about it.”

  “Don’t be a moron. Take it. Just because I don’t want to reap doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself. I know you love the thrill of the chase.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like I’m betraying our united front.”

  Cass lifted to her feet and crossed to her sister. “You’re not. And honestly? As much as I love you, you drive me nuts sometimes.”

  Nikki grinned. “Same goes here, brat.”

  “Then it’s agreed. A break will do us good. Now go get Sam before I do something sappy like hug you.”

  Marabella watched Nikki strut off. The butterflies in her tummy leapt into action. Despite knowing in her heart she’d made the right choice, and her firm resolution to be a steady rock during the branding ritual, her nerves were getting the better of her.

  Okay, truth be told, she was scared shitless.

  She’d never performed any magic remotely like this. She wasn’t even sure it would work. Cass had assured her the bonding spell was relatively simple, but any time you were dealing with uncertain magic, potential accidents were always a risk factor. What if she turned Sam into an aardvark? Or a platypus? Or horror of horrors, a platyvark?

  What the heck would that even look like?

  She shook her head, attempting to regain her train of thought. The other aspect that left her floundering was the whole familiar part of it. Having no experience with that, she was basically winging this with Sam. Usually there were contracts drawn up between witches and their familiars and a training period where the parties involved worked closely together to build a simpatico relationship. She and Sam didn’t have the time to go through all that though. Since Sam was technically a free agent now, Cass had drawn up a basic binding contract that Marabella and Sam would both sign. After that, she and Sam would spend time tonight strengthening the link they would require so she could dispatch him to the Death Wards. But that was it. Certainly not much of a witch and familiar honeymoon.

  That thought brought a flush to her skin. Why did she have to go and compare what she and Sam were about to do with marriage? Now she was going to have that in her head for eternity. Her feelings for Sam were already complicated enough. She didn’t need to add to the mess of her emotions by imagining something so fanciful as them being in some magical marriage that was sealed with a contract and a few invisible chains.

  Actually, some men probably would consider that marriage.

  The sound of Nikki’s and Sam’s approaching voices broke through her musings, and she turned her head toward the hallway. Her breath snagged in her throat as her gaze fell on Sam. No matter how many times she looked at him, she’d never get over how ruggedly gorgeous he was. In deference to the ritual, he’d left his torso bare, putting the bronzed glory of his sleekly muscled shoulders and chest on mouthwatering display. His hair—still damp from his shower—appeared blacker than midnight, and its short ends curled slightly against his nape. His prideful boast from earlier ghosted through her mind. I’m the fucking personification of evil.

  No, more like the personification of every female fantasy brought to life.

  Sam’s dark gaze locked on her, and an intense awareness buzzed between them. He walked toward her, and she resisted the urge to smooth her shaky palms over her skirt. Adopting an outward display of composure, she stepped onto the large square of velvet and waited for Sam to join her. Once he did, Cass instructed them to hold hands before she wrapped a length of black cord from their wrists to their fingertips. It reminded Marabella of a Wiccan handfasting.

  Sam scowled at Cass. “I don’t remember this part of the ritual.”

  “It’s an added improv.” Cass winked at Marabella. “I like the symbolism.”

  Sam muttered something that sounded like, “Batshit crazy broads everywhere.”

  “What?” Cass demanded.

  “Nothing. Let’s get on with this before my damn fingers lose circulation.”

  Cass finished the binding part of the ritual and officially declared them witch and familiar. Going on impulse, Marabella stood on tiptoe and kissed Sam on the mouth. He surprised her by cupping the back of her head and slanting his lips over hers in a lush kiss.

  Mindful of their audience, she reluctantly broke their connection and licked her lips. A strange yet pleasant shiver of sensation burrowed beneath her skin. “Wow, I’m tingling.”

  “That’s nothing. Wait until I get you in bed later.”

  Cass snickered. “Uh, I think she’s referring to the binding link that’s taking affect, not your kiss, Casanova.” She removed the cords from Sam’s and Marabella’s hands and instructed Sam to lie down on his stomach in the middle of the velvet cloth.

  Once he’d stretched out, Cass passed the patchouli oil to Marabella so she could anoint him with the shape of a pentacle. With that completed, Cass unrolled the ancient parchment containing the soul-collector creed, and Marabella chanted the spell that would imprint the code onto Sam and ultimately seal it with her touch. Her voice shook slightly, courtesy of her jittery nerves, but she made it through the long incantation and pressed her hand directly over the pentacle. Brilliant beams of white light shot from her fingertips and shimmered across Sam’s back. A decidedly sexy groan rumbled from him, and he rolled his hips against the velvet. She and Cass shared a glance, both of their eyebrows arching.

  “Dude, you’re humping the floor,” Nikki pointed out.

  “Maybe you should, uh, let up with the light show before he embarrasses himself.”

  Heeding Cass’s advice, she raised her hand, and the glow receded into her palm. Sam sprawled into a motionless, contented slump. Marabella glanced at Sam’s tattoo and noticed it was now intact, its colors even more dazzling than before. She gasped. “I did it! And without turning him into a platyvark!”

  “What in the holy goddess’s name is going on here?”

  The outraged and frighteningly familiar voice coming from the direction of the stairway made Marabella jolt before freezing in shock. A hot wash of horror released her from her numbed state. She slowly turned her head and locked stares with Domino.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Blood roaring in her ears, Marabella stood and stepped around Sam. “Mom, w-what are you doing here?”

  “I believe that’s the question I just asked, Marabella.” Domino’s voice carried the horrible disapproval that always made Marabella shrivel inside and wish she could be the sort of daughter who inspired motherly pride and acceptance.

&
nbsp; You have superpowers, damn it. Stop being a spineless ninny. Sucking in a deep breath, she folded her arms in front of her and gave her mom a calm, serene look. “Sam is my familiar. I just finished branding him so he can stop an evil bitch from kidnapping a soul and using it for nefarious purposes that could possibly lead to all of our deaths.” She had no idea if she was anywhere on track with that last, improvised part, but hopefully it’d be enough to convince Domino that what they were doing here was important and necessary.

  “He’s a demon, Marabella. What in the world are you thinking?”

  “Mom, did you not hear the part about possible death? That trumps Sam’s demon genes.”

  Domino appeared far from convinced. If anything, she looked like she was seconds away from fainting. She gripped the rail, her legs visibly wobbling. Terrified her mom was about to take a tumble down the stairs, Marabella rushed to her side and steadied her. “Please come sit down before you pass out.”

  “I’m fine,” Domino bit out stubbornly. She straightened and squared her shoulders.

  Marabella noticed the glossy papers in her mom’s hand and recognized it as the bid for the redesign at the Alliance headquarters. Domino followed her gaze to the papers and tightened her lips. “You won the bid. I came over here to surprise you with the news and take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

  Didn’t it figure her mom would choose tonight of all nights to be spontaneous for the first time in her life? But that didn’t explain how Domino ended up at the top of the stairs without—

  Marabella veered her gaze to the box from Charmed Moon before glancing at Nikki. “Did you by any chance forget to lock the door when you came up earlier?”

  Nikki’s expression turned sheepish. “Oops.”

  Cass stepped forward as Sam struggled into a sitting position. He still looked dazed, and a tiny hitch of a sappy grin played at his mouth. Damn, that white light had really done a number on him.