Jesse leans in. “You know it, and I know it.” He draws a deep breath. “Manda didn’t.”
“She’s an aura-reading-future-seeing witch,” I justify myself. “How could she have not seen what she meant to me?”
Jesse arches a brow. “Even witches as powerful as Manda can be tormented by fear.”
He’s right. None of this is Manda’s fault. I was the one who pushed her away, the one whose actions forced her to keep our son a secret, the asshole who’s responsible for her going dark. “I fucked up, Jess.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” He averts his gaze. “But you’re not the only one,” he says, eyeballing B.
“What do you mean?”
He blows out a frustrated breath. “Wanna know why she won’t even look at me anymore?”
Ever since the fight they had outside Mr. Wong’s, I’ve been dying to know what went down between my brother and the mamba. “Shoot.”
“Bonnie knew, Alex.”
I narrow my eyes. “Knew what?”
“When we drove to Salem, and you fell asleep, she told me Manda summoned a demon above JJ’s bar hours before she vanished.” He frowns. “B suspected Manda did something stupid, like trading places with you. She said it was the only explanation to why hell didn’t claim your soul.”
My eyes went wide. “Wait. What?” Amanda summoned a demon in JJ’s bar? Why? And B suspected Manda traded her soul for mine but she kept her mouth shut about it? That’s gotta be a mistake. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
He gawks at the wall, his shoes, the floor—anything to keep his eyes off me. “Because I told her not to.”
“You did what?” I bark.
Shame colors his face cherry red. “I was so happy you didn’t die, Alex…I just couldn’t risk losing you. I knew you’d walk right into hell for Manda.” He meets my gaze. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”
“That’s your defense?” I ball my fists. “You wanted to protect me by keeping the truth from me?”
“Look, it was just a theory,” he says, desperately trying to ease his guilty conscience. “We didn’t have any hard evidence.” He pauses. “I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“I’m sorry, brother. I truly am.”
He betrayed my trust and lied to me. But didn’t I do the same to him? Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths, swallowing all the senseless anger that won’t change a damn thing about our current situation. “So am I, Jess.” So am I.
“Man,” he says, eyes lit up. “I can’t believe I’m an uncle. How fucking cool is that?” Wow, where did that sudden change of mood and topic come from? “I’m so going to take him to a Lakers game,” he continues, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think they have jerseys in his size?”
“Probably,” I mutter, startled about his sudden outburst of happiness in a more than murky situation.
“Good. Oh”—he shoots me a warning glance—“and just for the record, I’m the one who gets to teach him how to treat women. One Remington pointing a gun at a woman is more than enough.”
Jesse’s excitement about a future with Leandro is somewhat contagious. The pictures he paints are a bright canvas of happiness—basketball games, Disney World—shit families do. Except, without Manda we won’t be a family.
“Promise me something?” I whisper.
“Sure.” No hesitation, never hesitation. “What’s up?”
I inch closer, making sure the Nun and Pink Nail Polish can’t hear me. “We won’t let Manda die, right?”
“I…”
“Promise me,” I beg. “Please.”
He looks me in the eye. “I promise.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
Silence stretches between us. We both focus on B. The mamba eagerly prepares her location spell. A spell that won’t work on Manda because she’s an untouchable, but it will most certainly work on the First Knight who forces her to end the damn world. At least, that’s what B said when she told the Nun about her plan to track her brother rather than Manda.
B places a silver bowl in the center of her mandala when the iron door swings open and Demon-Boy barges in. He throws a paper bag at B. “Your stuff,” he grumbles, face pale.
B eyeballs him suspiciously. “Uhm, thanks?”
Demon-Boy doesn’t care for the mamba’s gratitude. He bows to the Nun. “Can I speak to you?” She nods. “Privately.”
They retreat to a dark corner. When they come back just a few moments later, they share the same the-shit-is-on look.
“What is it?” B is the first one to ask.
The Nun rubs a hand over her tired face. “We have to hurry.”
I jump up. “Why?”
The Nun nods at Demon Boy. “Tell them what you told us.”
“The First Knight’s army has been freed.” He swallows. Hard. “The city is crawling with demons. And…” He trails off.
“What?” Jesse barks.
“If CNN is to be believed,” Pink Nail Polish says, “New York isn’t the only playground of the First Knight’s legion. They’re wreaking havoc all over the country.”
Fists clenched, teeth gritted, I get ready for the worst. “How bad is it?”
The Nun’s chest inflates. “Are you ready for the location spell?” she asks B.
The mamba nods. “As ready as I can be.”
“Then I suggest you go to work. Before there’s no world left to save.”
That bad, huh? Well, this shit just keeps getting better.
“On it,” B assures her.
Chapter 27
Amanda
Clyde and I proceed toward the three-story mansion, reeking of money and wealth. Silvery moonlight illuminates the natural gray stone foundation. It looks idyllic, the perfect place to raise a family. But I know best how deceiving looks can be. Glimmer and gold on the surface doesn’t mean there can’t be brimstone and ice beneath.
I feel the Knight of Hell’s eyes on me. “What?” I bark, tightening my grip on the grimoire.
“Feeling better, love?”
I still hear the damn voice, and we’re about to perform the fourth ritual, breaking the fourth lock on the gate. Oh, and then there’s the fact my son and sister are hostages of freakin’ demons, all while I’m struggling to keep the wrath blazing inside me under control. “Peachy.”
The ebony door swings open. One of Clyde’s faceless minions waits for us on the other side. “Master,” he bows low. “Everything is ready.”
Old Amanda would flinch. Especially because I’m fully aware what “ready” means. New Amanda, the one who’s close to losing her mind, doesn’t feel a thing. All right, maybe a tiny stab in the chest, but it’s as painful as a prick with a needle—not at all.
Clyde gestures for me to move inside. “Ladies first.”
I bump into him. Hard. Why? Because I can. What can he do? Send me to hell or purgatory? I fucking dare him.
Soaring ceilings, the best hardwood floor money can buy, and fancy designer furniture. They are…were rich.
“This way.” Faceless minion walks us into the living room.
A black velvet cloth with Clyde’s sigil sewn into it lies on the floor. Seven black candles circle it. I move over, putting the book down.
“Help us,” someone croaks. “Please.”
I look up. Two massive, inverted, wooden crosses dangle from the ceiling. A man is nailed to the first one. His blood drops onto the floor, coloring the white marble dark sangria. He’s dead. I guess I should care, huh? Well, I don’t.
Crucified to the second inverted cross is a woman, Mother Dearest’s age. Her long blonde hair touches the ground, her pale blue eyes glare at me, petrified. Unlike her husband, she’s still alive despite a slit throat. Not for long, though.
“Help me,” she repeats, blood dripping from her mouth.
Feel something, my brain screams. Horror, fear, disgust—anything is better than nothing at all. The thing is; I’m numb. I see her, can read her terrifi
ed aura, and am aware the woman is taking her last breaths. But…I just don’t care.
Clyde puts two fingers under my chin, inspecting my neck. “Would you like to sit down first?” Judging by the ring of his voice, I’d say the black poison has spread farther.
“No.” I pull back, heading to the grimoire that calls out for me.
My gaze darts to the pictures on the wall. Circling a Last Supper painting are images of a happy family of three. Father, who’s dead, mother, who will be any second, and a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old daughter. No clue where she is. Maybe they offed her first? The ritual only requires two god-fearing, human sacrifices.
“Bring me the chalice,” I order.
Faceless minion, the one who opened the door for us, frowns. “Watch your tone, witch.”
“You let him talk to you like that?” the book asks. “No wonder they treat you like their whore.”
She’s absolutely right. Who is he to talk to me like that? My skin is on fire; scorching heat wraps around me. Like a robot, I stand up. “Hey.”
Faceless creature looks over its shoulder. “What now?”
I tilt my head to the side, smiling. “Next time you talk to me like that”—I slowly lift my hands—“you won’t be so lucky.”
The creature levitates above the floor. “What…what are you doing?”
“Teaching you a lesson on how to treat women,” I reply, before I snap my fingers and faceless minion flies against the wall. The impact cracks the plaster and possibly his head.
“Amanda.” Clyde’s voice is like thunder. “What are you doing?”
I shoot him one look and he shuts his damn mouth. “Get me the fucking chalice. Now.”
“Well done,” the book praises me. “Very well done, Amanda.”
By the time Faceless minion comes to, I’m all set to unlock lock number four. The silver chalice—it belonged to none other than the First Witch herself—sits in my lap. It’s filled with the blood of Mr. and Mrs. Crucified. Oh, did I mention she bit the dust a few minutes ago? I breathed a sigh of relief when her annoying pleas faded into oblivion.
“Love.” Clyde feels up my back. “Maybe you should take it slow. The power of the books is co—”
“Start the chant,” I say, daring him to disobey.
Real shame, he doesn’t. “You heard her,” he addresses his minions. “Form the circle and start the chant.”
Monotone voices float through the bloody living room. Power electrifies the air. I touch the book, soaking up its energy, bathing in it for a little while before I join the chant. “Sreveileb fo doolb eht uoy evig dna nerdlihc yht ecifircas I. Lleh fo swal eht yebosid I. Nevaeh fo swal eht yebosid I.”
Once I repeat the incantation three times, I lift the silver chalice and gulp down its bloody content. My mouth tastes like rusty iron and rotten meat. I fail to see why vamps dig that shit.
“Delicious, isn’t it?” the book says. Or maybe I do. Who knows?
I set the cup down, ready to read the last line, to break the fourth lock, but Clyde’s scream stops me. “No!”
I frown. “What is it?”
“Your mamba friend,” he replies, the color draining off his face. “She’s doing a locator spell.”
I shrug. “Let her.” They won’t get here in time to stop me.
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”
Risky? As if B could stop me. As if anyone could.
“Finish the ritual,” he demands. “I’ll take care of your friend.”
A faint voice in the back of my mind pleads with me to stop Clyde. It tells me to give a fuck about my best friend.
I can’t be bothered. “Keep on chanting,” I order Clyde’s minions, as amber mist leaves his vessel.
Chapter 28
Alex
“Mwen mande nou yo montre m ’ki kote ou ye a, premye knight nan lanfè.” Crimson slithers down B’s finger, landing on the map Demon-Boy got her earlier. “Mwen mande nou yo montre m ’ki kote ou ye a, premye knight nan lanfè,” the mamba repeats, eyes closed, spine straight.
The flames of the purple candles rise high to the ceiling. Icy wind sweeps through the heated boiler room.
“Mwen mande nou yo montre m ’ki kote ou ye a, premye knight nan lanfè,” she chants one last time.
Her blood courses over the map. All of us—the demons, Jesse and I—follow the crimson-line from New York to Ohio, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, until it eventually stops somewhere in Idaho.
I stretch my neck, trying to get a better look.
The Nun gazes over B’s shoulder. “Bayview,” she reads.
Bayview, Idaho? “What’s a Knight of Hell doing in that godforsaken place?” We passed through that town once. There’s nothing but a few houses and the lake up there.
A husky voice echoes through the dark. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Alexander.”
The Nun’s eyes widen to a point where I’m afraid they might pop out. “Shit.” Yup. That’s pretty much the last thing you want to hear from a demon.
B spins. Only it’s not B anymore. Amber eyes stare back at us. I’d recognize those eyes anytime, anywhere. What can I say? You don’t forget the demon you sold your damn soul to.
A nasty grin is plastered across his—or should I say B’s—face. “Hello, my love.” He bows to the Nun. “It’s been a while.”
Pink Nail Polish and Demon-Boy jump in front of the Nun, shielding their boss. “Don’t talk to her, traitor.”
“G.” The First Knight smiles at Demon-Boy. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you?”
“Shut up,” Demon-Boy barks, hiding his trembling hands behind his back. He’s scared of the First Knight. Yet he stands his ground. Sorta impressive. If he wasn’t a damn demon, that is.
The Knight of Hell strokes his chin. “I admire your love for your boss. I truly do. But”—he snaps his fingers—“little demon bitches keep it zipped when the grown-ups are talking.” We watch in utter horror as Demon-Boy’s lips are sewn together by an invisible hand.
Pink Nail Polish lunges forward, aiming for B’s throat. Jesse is quicker. He deflects her attack with a single blow to her chest.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she yells at him, struggling to regain her balance. Her eyes are literally on fire, burning the brightest garnet I’ve ever seen.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” Jesse shoots back, drawing to his full height. “You wanna fight him; wait ’til the bastard wears his own suit.”
Pink Nail Polish narrows her eyes. Her posture screams I-will-rip-your-damn-head-off-hunter. The Nun interferes before she gets the chance to follow through. “He’s right.” Her gaze darts to B, currently possessed by the First Knight. “We still need the mamba.”
“Need her for what?” The First Knight’s deafening laughter roars through the gloomy boiler room. “We both know you can’t stop me. I’ve always been stronger than you.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Now that I have an untouchable by my side, I’m invincible. By the way”—he winks at me—“thanks for that, Alexander. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Heat rises from my core. “You played me,” I say, inching closer.
“I’m a demon,” he replies nonchalantly. “What did you expect?”
What did I expect? Surely not for him to enslave the mother of my child. And certainly not abducting my son to use him as a damn bargaining chip.
“Where’s Manda?” Jesse asks. “What did you do to her?”
“She’s a little busy, right now.” He shows off B’s brilliant teeth. “But I’ll tell her you said ‘hi.’ Though I’m fairly certain she won’t care.”
She won’t care? He doesn’t know the first thing about her. I’d tell him, but we have more pressing matters that need to be addressed. “Where is Leandro?”
The First Knight cocks a brow. “Someone told you you’re a daddy, huh?” He eyeballs the Nun. “I should have known you can’t keep a secret, love.”
“Tell me,�
� I yell.
“Suddenly you care?” He moves toward me, eyes narrowed to two thin slits. “Where were you when he was born, hunter? Did you know Amanda almost died giving birth to your son? No?” He pauses. “Well, how could you? You left her, pregnant, with no money, and no place to go.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think you have the right to act all protective super dad, now.”
What the fuck? Manda almost died giving birth? That’s bull—the nasty horizontal scar at her pubic hairline flashes across my eyes. The one I spotted in Bakersfield when I tried to talk her into having sex with me for old times’ sake. I always knew I’d seen one like it before. My mom had the same, after Natasha was brought into this world with an emergency C-section.
“That’s right, Alexander.” He gets in my face, his sulfur breath beating against my cheek. “If it wasn’t for the mamba’s brother, your beloved witch would be long gone.” His lips twitch upward. “And it’d be your fault.”
The worst part is the bastard is right. It is my fault. All of it.
“You know,” he says, voice cold and hard. “I never understood how a woman like Amanda could love a pitiful creature like you. But”—he pulls his shoulder to his ear—“I am grateful she did. Because without you, I would have never gotten her soul.”
Pure and unfiltered madness corrupts my system. “I’m going to kill you,” I promise him, closing the little gap between us. “I don’t know how or when, but I will. This I swear to you.”
He bursts into laughter. “Oh, goodness. Aren’t you tired of making promises you can’t keep?” He meets my gaze. “You can’t stop me.” He eyeballs the other demons. “No one can. Not with Amanda Bishop by my side.”
The Nun steps between us before my balled fist lands in B’s face. “Please…I beg of you. Stop this madness before it’s too late.”
He pulls his brows to his hairline. “Why would I do such a stupid thing, love?” He scans her face. “We always dreamed of this. Walking the world freely, getting rid of those”—he shoots Jesse and me a killer look—“monkeys. Why don’t you stop fighting me and join me instead? Together we’re unstoppable.”
Fate Page 19