David Sharpe had one. When Sharpe had died, he’d become Withered. In other words, he’d returned to life once more, but changed. In a nutshell, he was immortal and he was “blessed” with quite a few upgrades. The problem was, he was also “cursed” with a few Withered-specific downsides.
One such downside was that a Withered was incapable of being near anyone they “desired” if they were hungry. If it had been too long since they’d fed – usually on blood, but other body parts would do as well – then being near the person they had feelings for, even if those feelings were pure lust, would cause that person to suffer ill effects.
Weakness, light-headedness and disorientation. These were the effects a hungry Withered unwittingly bestowed on someone they craved.
Jake stood there in the hallway and stared at the map and thought of the strange feelings Angel had been having lately. He’d read them in her thoughts, the feeling that she was being watched, the dizziness, the weakness. They were different from the symptoms she’d suffered during her anemic attack. They were different because they were completely unrelated.
It wasn’t an illness causing Angel to feel this way, and it wasn’t even exhaustion. It was the bi-product of being under the watchful eye of a Withered. It was all him. It was his nearness, his desire, and his hunger.
The hunger and desire of Michael Clemens.
Everything made sense now.
Michael’s file detailed a vast underground criminal empire, and the man who ruled it all by the time he was in his early thirties had been ruthless and exacting, cruel in the extreme. No one had been capable of defeating him in any business venture, and his personal life exhibited similar tendencies toward displaying a ruthless demand for control. He was uncompromising and pitiless. He was the perfect warlock.
When Michael had died at Dmitri Voronin’s hand fifteen years ago, he hadn’t stayed dead for long. He’d come back. Whether that was planned or not, Jake may never know, but the result was the same. Michael’s genes kicked in, the dormant magic was activated, and he changed. He became Withered.
Michael wasn’t back to haunt Angel after having gone away – he’d never left in the first place. For fifteen years, he’d watched over Angel, and in the meantime he’d grown stronger. For fifteen years, he’d planned this out.
Those circles on that map were not there because circles were pretty. They were there for a spell. And at the center of that spell was Angel.
Jake ran a hand over his face with the realization – and froze when a third realization hit him. It had been really quiet in the kitchen for a really long time.
Jake’s heart slammed against his chest. He ran around the corner and skidded to a halt. The kitchen was empty. Angel was gone.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Michael glanced over his shoulder, and the two men who’d been standing motionless and quiet behind the couch came forward. But Michael stayed where he was, affording Angel a respite from his draining effect on her.
So Angel pooled all of her willpower and forced herself to her feet. She prepared to fight, regardless of the motes of light swimming in her vision. If she was going down, she was going down swinging.
When they tried to flank her, Angel reacted, going low with a weak scoop kick to the man’s forward leg. He easily deflected it, keeping his balance. But in doing so, he adjusted his back leg, drawing it further out and giving her the opening she actually wanted. With much more strength, Angel swept in with a low cut kick to the backs of both of his legs, taking them out from underneath him. He went down hard on his back as his companion closed in on the other side.
But Angel’s blood was pumping now, feeding endorphins and oxygen to her heart and clearing her head. She looked over her shoulder and met the second man’s gaze just to give herself direction. Then she turned her body, spinning again with a reverse crescent kick that slammed into the side of her opponent’s face. His head snapped to the side, and his body leaned heavily in response. Angel used that momentum to strike from the other direction, knowing the impact would be that much greater.
She turned the other way and simply did the same thing again, but with her other leg, snapping his head to the opposite side so hard that he staggered several steps and hit the wall.
Angel hadn’t forgotten about the first man. She faced him just in time for him to go for her throat with an angry fist. She jerked back and used both of her arms to trap his at the elbow. Then she pulled her entire body downward, knocking him off balance. Next, she rose viciously, his arm still trapped between hers, and twisted away from him – until she heard the cracking sound that told her his elbow was broken.
Oddly enough, the man made little noise. He only gritted his teeth and gave a small growl, faltering back several steps.
And then Angel heard the clapping. It was slow and hard, and it drew Angel to a confused halt. The men she’d attacked straightened up and stepped away from her.
Angel turned toward Michael. He was applauding her. And it was distinctly clear to Angel now that the two men who were with him were under some kind of spell. She wondered if they were even human. I wonder if they’re even alive, she amended. It was like they were puppets. Puppets made of meat.
“Feel better?” Michael asked her as his men returned to his side of the room, taking up their positions behind him once more. Angel heard a terrible snapping sound and realized the broken elbow of the man she’d attacked had just repaired itself. There was no sign whatsoever that either of them were in pain or had even been attacked.
Both men came to a standstill like secret service agents, legs spread, shoulders back, hands clasped calmly before them. They watched her in silence, their eyes once more cold and devoid of emotion.
What the ever loving –
Michael shrugged. “I thought you might want one last go at flexing your muscle. You’ve always been a stubborn woman, so desperate for some semblance of control over every little thing in your life.” He smiled knowingly. “And since I will be taking that control from you for good, I wanted you to enjoy a final hoorah.”
Angel felt what little hope she’d had for escape quietly get up from the table, dust its hands off, and leave the room.
“I trust it was satisfying?” Michael asked, watching her closely, his smile enigmatic. And then he grew serious and stepped forward. “Now then, shall we get down to business?” His smile vanished, and his light gray eyes flashed with untold power.
Angel cried out as her body was lifted and thrown backward. She hit the wall hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs and send stars into her vision. She moaned in pain, closing her eyes against the sudden disorientation. But in that darkness, she felt Michael take hold of her hand and unclench her fingers.
“No!” she ground out through gritted teeth. She tried to pull away from him but she was being held completely immobile, every single inch of her body strapped to the wall by invisible ropes of warlock magic.
She felt the ring slide easily onto her ring finger, and she wanted to scream. How could her subjugation have been that fucking easy? But Angel’s brow furrowed when nothing happened. She found that despite the ring, she still hated Michael as much as she had before he’d put it on her.
Michael laughed, clearly amused at what must have been surprise showing on her features. She opened her eyes. He was mere inches away from her, his power holding her far enough off the floor that they were eye to eye. He showed her a small but satisfied smirk, his inhuman eyes giving off a slight glow.
“We’re only getting started, Angel. Remember, you wore that ring for ten years and nothing happened then either. That’s because it’s not even part of the ritual. I only needed it to lay the trap.”
What trap….
“The perfect circle, love? Did you think that was just for fun?”
The perfect circle…. Angel thought of the ring of dead bodies on the map. Her apartment at the center. The blood drained from her face as she put the pieces together in her mind.
; “Blood had to be spilled,” he told her, his eyes roving over her face to her neck. “Everything had to be arranged with precise care.” His eyes wandered lower, raking across her chest. “And I knew that to protect you, Voronin would unwittingly oblige me in my machinations. I contrived each delicious death, Angel.” He dropped his gaze to her waist, seeming to want to take all of her in. “I manipulated every single act of bloodshed. Until at last, the circle was drawn.” He looked up again, catching her eyes with his. “The trap was laid. And finally, all I had to do was wait for you to transport one last time.”
The circle, Angel lamented. The damn circle… it even reminded me of him! And I still didn’t see. I never would have guessed.
“When I spoke the words of the spell that locked the trap into place, I needed to be holding a ring – one that had touched the object of my desire,” he explained to her. “And that was why I had to take it back from you all those years ago. For what it’s worth, I’ve wanted to return it ever since. I like seeing it on you, Angel.” He placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned forward to whisper his next words across her lips. “Like a brand marking my property.”
“Fuck you, Michael,” she hissed, desperate to throw something in his face – anything.
But Michael simply smiled as if he’d expected nothing less. “I promise we’ll get to that, sweetheart.” Then he glanced at her arms where they were stretched helpless and bound at her sides. “Now, you don’t have a scythe mark like mine, and you’re not a warlock, so this marriage calls for a little creativity.” He leaned in again to whisper. “I bet you didn’t know that Withered could create other Withered, did you? And you, with all that warden training.” He shook his head.
As she watched, his fangs became more pronounced, growing longer and sharper. She froze, unable to look away; it was horribly fascinating. “All it takes is a little evil, the ever necessary exchange of blood, and a whole lot of dark power.” He laughed. The laughter grew and began to echo off the walls. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on new dimension. “It’s going to be one hell of a honeymoon.”
With that, he kissed her. His lips slammed down onto hers with brute force, sending rivulets of pain and revulsion through her. She would have bucked against him if not for the bands of magic strapping her so securely to the wall. As it was, she cried out against him, but he simply swallowed the sound as he brutalized her tongue and his teeth tore at her lips. When tears brimmed her eyes, Michael broke the kiss and pulled back.
Angel cried out again though, this time in fear. Michael’s eyes were now solid red from corner to corner and they flickered at their centers as if they were literally on fire. Angel’s blood stained his lips, adding to his hellish appearance.
“Semper mea, aeternum mea, tantum mea,” he said. His voice had further altered, growing so deep his words vibrated the foundations of the apartment. It sounded like there was more than one of him, and his copies were everywhere, speaking the same words he was, echoing them back at him in that same demonic tone.
Angel shivered violently as he continued.
“Sanguis sanitatum, sanguin sacris….”
The weakness was back, stealing over her and sending her head swimming. She made a helpless sound and her head dropped backward. She no longer possessed the strength to hold it up.
Michael moved in at once, his strong arms pressing into the wall to cage her in. His lips continued to give voice to his evil spell, speaking his terrible words a mere breath away from her mouth. She felt those words brush past her lips, stinging like needles.
“Tantum mea, aeternum mea, semper mea.”
She felt the crux of it then. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was wrongness, and it was moving around her, sliding along her skin, trying to find a way in.
No… No!
Michael laughed one final time, then he thrust his fingers through her hair, pressed his body against hers, and sank his fangs into her throat. Angel let loose with a piercing scream that filled the room and spilled into the universe beyond.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Jake watched the infamous warlock carefully as Darryl Maelstrom concentrated on the highly powerful portal that was supposed to allow them entrance into the warding circle Michael Clemens had literally drawn into the city’s foundations with blood. Maelstrom was the only one who could work this spell. Even Katrielle was unable to breach these walls.
The Withered warlock Michael Clemens was obscenely powerful. And this spell of his was a long time in the making. It was obscenely strong.
But Maelstrom was Withered for a reason, and it wasn’t because he bore a scythe mark. In fact, there was no such mark anywhere on his body. Maelstrom was instead Withered because the warlock’s magic was so powerful and so twisted, it altered something in the laws of physics and nature, and in short – death hadn’t wanted him.
The upside to that was that Maelstrom was the first person Jake had thought of going to when he saw that Angel had transported away from the Vega safe house. Those red marker circles on that map on the wall in the Vega dining room made it all too clear to Jake; Clemens had carefully laid a powerful trap. And Angel was falling into it in perfect order.
Fight fire with fire – and fight dark magic with darker magic and a British accent.
Of course, Jake wasn’t the only one standing in that spell chamber watching Maelstrom with a wary eye. Cain was there too. And Gabriel Santiago. And David Sharpe. And several of the sovereigns, including Roman and Evie D’Angelo – the Vampire King and Queen, and Damon and Diana Chroi – the Goblin King and Queen.
Speaking of darker magic, Maelstrom turned the bowl on the table in front of him counter-clockwise once, clockwise twice, then counter three times, until it had gone full circle. Then he straightened and said, “When the spell completes, the portal will open directly into Michael Clemens’ location. No swirling colors, no leisurely ride to and fro through the intestines of space and time. So prepare yourselves now, because there will be little warning.”
The wardens in the room drew their weapons and switched off their safeties. The sovereigns became still, and Jake knew they were preparing magic and getting ready to fight. Maelstrom, for his part, began to chant.
Jake glanced at Diana Chroi, the Goblin Queen. The name was a little misleading. Diana wasn’t a goblin; she was a human, and since she’d married a fae lord she was now technically part fae as well. She was a lovely woman who practiced as a veterinarian in the mortal world. More importantly, she happened to be a healer like Angel. Jake was immensely grateful for Diana’s presence. He had no idea what they were going to find on the other side of this transport.
But… maybe Evie D’Angelo did.
Everyone in the room was worried about Angel and furious with Michael. They all had different reasons for being upset, but the end result was emotionally the same. They were more pissed than worried, because with the kind of clout about to break through Michael’s barrier, Angel was probably as good as saved.
But when Jake looked away from Maelstrom, who was speaking softly in some magical tongue so ancient it was incomprehensible to Jake, especially with that accent of his, he found his gaze settled on the Vampire Queen this time. Because her expression was more troubled than angry.
And that scared the hell out of Jake.
Evelynne D’Angelo was not just a vampire. She was a seer.
Was she glimpsing something inside that circle, something in their very near future, that Jake should be aware of? Afraid of, even?
At that thought, Evie D’Angelo looked over at Jake, meeting his eyes. They were both vampires, so there was no unwanted reading of thoughts going on, but Evie did hold his gaze for a meaningful amount of time.
Be prepared, Jake.
Jake blinked. She’d sent the thought with a good amount of strength into his head.
You are at a crossroads. You’ll need to make a choice.
And then Maelstrom was stepping back from the table
he’d been working over, and everyone else instinctively followed suit. The magic in the large dome-shaped room intensified, giving the air a thick, electrically-charged quality. Maelstrom finished speaking the last few lines of whatever exceedingly complicated spell he was working, and that electricity thickening in the air took a dark turn, literally forming wavy strings of purple-black lightning that zapped everywhere throughout the room. Some even slid along Jake’s body, making his teeth buzz uncomfortably.
A second later, Maelstrom threw one final finishing-touch ingredient into the bowl he’d been bent over and hastily shouted, “Everyone, cover your eyes!”
Every person in the room did as the warlock instructed, shielding their faces with their arms or hands. The women in the room took the extra precaution of turning their entire bodies away from the table. Women were like that: Smart and shit.
There was a flash of light so bright even through the thickness of the arm over Jake’s face, he knew it would have blinded him if he hadn’t shielded himself, perhaps permanently. But from the relative safety of his makeshift shield, he watched the light fade, and as it did, he lowered his arm.
The room went dark. The dark electricity zapped completely away. Nobody moved, and he was pretty sure everyone held their collective breaths. Several seconds passed.
All at once, the center of the room split open. Space literally appeared to rupture, and the crack that carved its way through the air was red and black and angry.
On the other side of that fast-widening crack, Jake saw exactly what he’d been terrified he would see. Rage exploded in him, shifting him well past vampire mode into insane monster mode.
And with the fury of a man thoroughly cursed and madder than he’d ever been in his entire life, Jake led the charge through the forced portal, making a killer bee line for the good-as-dead piece of shit who had dared lay hands on his girl.
Monsters, Book One: The Good, The Bad, The Cursed Page 34