My Demon Warlord

by Carolyn Jewel

  She shook her head so her thick black hair fell behind her shoulders. “I don’t have any problem with you when we have sex.” She let out a breath. “It’s not enough that we work like that. It’s not.”

  “What is?”

  “I don’t know!” Her next breath trembled. “If I knew, I’d be doing it. You complete me when we’re like that. It’s perfect and sublime, and I would do just about anything to have us like that. But then. . . this.” She grabbed her head and turned her back on him but immediately turned back. “I do not know how to fix this. I don’t know how, and I don’t think you know either.”

  “Give me what I want. Try it. Just once.”

  “You’d end me.” She opened a drawer and grabbed another fork. She held it out to him. Her hand was steady.

  What the hell. He took the fork, and she set the pot on the counter and made room for him. He grabbed two Arrogant Bastards from the fridge and opened them.

  When they’d scraped the pot of the last noodles, he said, “You shouldn’t stay here. It isn’t safe.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “If you’re not here, they can’t make me hurt you.”

  She spoke in a soft voice, infuriatingly sedate. “Nothing we do for Nikodemus is safe.” She didn’t flinch when he snorted. “It’s not safe for any of us because mages like Magellan, Infante, and Sessani believe what they do to the kin is not only right but required.” She met his gaze without flinching. “I do not accept that. I will not be a party to it. I will not stand by and do nothing about it.”

  “If you stay, don’t make it harder than it needs to be.”

  She threw her fork into the sink, where it rattled against the side until it came to rest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Give me a break.”

  She drew a breath like it cost her everything to keep her temper. “I don’t think I’m entirely clear. Enlighten me, why don’t you?” The words were deadly sharp.

  “I mean don’t set me off.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Oh, excellent. Now you’re blaming me for your shortcomings.”

  Fucking Maddy Winters. His. His. His. Even after he’d screwed up everything, he hadn’t stopped wanting her. “I mean bend to my need to be in control.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You better be kidding me.”

  “Just while we’re here.”

  She looked ready to spit nails, and he responded to her fire. “I do whatever you want, is that right?”

  He leaned over her, and all he got back was the ferocity of her heart. “There’s no place for me to get away from this.” He thumped his chest. “As long as we’re not talking about what those closed bonds mean, then you can fucking stop making it harder on me than it needs to be. Every second of every day that you don’t accept me damages me. True before, and true now.” Silence ate up the air, and he pushed away from the counter. Not what he should have said. He should never have listened to Addison. Never. Now there was no taking it back.

  She replied low and hard. “I really don’t give a shit if you’re damaged by that.”

  “Oh, you’ve made that clear.” He headed for the door. “I have to finish upstairs.” He turned. “Give me a link,” he said. Like it wouldn’t be a big deal. “Two-way, or you’re with me all night.”

  “No.”

  “I’m done being polite and reasonable.”

  “Since when are you ever polite or reasonable?”

  “Plenty of times.”

  She laughed out loud. “You are not serious.”

  “You need to sleep sometime. I need to make sure nothing happens to you when you do.” They ended up staring at each other, both of them unwilling to budge. The stalemate ended without a winner because the ward Kynan had set in the basement went off.

  CHAPTER 14

  Kynan tapped Winters’ forehead with the pads of his first two fingers. Boom. They linked up. Hot and immediate. Winters pushed a lot of buttons for him, and getting connected to her with the bonds free to resonate on both sides, he might as well be mainlining her. Really good that she wasn’t giving him a hard time about that.

  She went with him to the office where they’d stashed Vahid. He hunkered down beside the immobilized mageheld. He had Vahid’s phone in his back pocket, switched to silent mode. He held enough magic to set off sparks in the air overhead. With a grin, he eased up on the air that bound the mageheld. “Nod once if that’s Ugo Cifai downstairs.”

  The mageheld nodded.

  That was the problem with killing rooms. They were built to amplify the power that would be used inside, but that also meant very little penetrated. The world could end and no one inside would know until they opened the door to smoking ruins. He had an idea about how he was going to solve that problem if he and Winters were inside there while Vahid wasn’t, but it meant he needed Vahid close.

  “If Cifai orders you to stop the indwell, I’m going to release you,” he told Vahid. “All you have to do is show up like a good little mageheld. Got that?”

  The mageheld nodded, sullen and suspicious.

  “In return, Winters and I will do everything we can to make sure you get free. If we can’t do it today, we’ll keep trying until you are.” He loosened enough of the constraints to slide a taloned finger along the inside of Vahid’s arm, deep enough to slice skin. He backtracked along the cut and tasted the collected blood. Normally he’d feel the promise sinking in on both ends, but not with a mageheld. “That’s my blood-bound promise to you.”

  Again, Vahid nodded. With his looks, there was no doubt he had some rank. Women probably went for those high cheekbones, luscious mouth, sleepy eyes, and all that thick, dark hair.

  “Winters. Did it take?”

  Her magic whispered through him. “Yes.”

  He returned his attention to Vahid. “How many magehelds get the chance to fuck over their master like this?” He patted the mageheld’s chest. “Don’t waste the opportunity.” He looked over his shoulder at Winters. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Showtime, my friend.” He hoisted Vahid over his shoulder and made sure he had enough magic on hand to vaporize him if necessary. It was a good day when he and Winters put their difficulties aside to take down a mage or two.

  No using your words, Winters.

  Piss off.

  She gave him a stink-eye as they headed for the basement. He slung his free arm around her and brought her close. “I wouldn’t want anyone else at my back.”

  The ward he’d built into the top of the stairway door was intact, which was a disappointment. He was sorry the fuckers down there hadn’t tried to breach it. The magic was especially nasty, just for them.

  At the bottom, he put Vahid down and ruffled his hair. His work in the killing room had been thorough, and he was eager to find out whether his idea would pay off the way he hoped. Portions of the magic he’d set into the fabric of the basement rippled through him, fainter than he would have liked—fucking rubies—but still there.

  Do your thing, Winters.

  The IT guy’s talk about mesh networks and encryption and why everyone needed new phones plus a home visit from the new and improved tech team, had given him a couple of ideas about refining the way his wards worked. He’d linked the ones he’d set inside the killing room, each one to all the others, and then tied them to this one. He’d connected wards before, but this was the first time he’d cross-linked.

  He’d created the equivalent of a psychic camera inside that room, but his network of magically aware wards was a weapon, too. Push power though this ward here, and he’d be charging the others he’d made inside. If it worked the way he intended. Winters moved into the stairwell, keeping her distance from Vahid, and made a closer inspection of the ward he’d made on the bottom step.

  He drew Winters tighter into their link. As soon as she was fully sharing his mental space, he touched a finger to the ward. It turned out his idea worked. Information from inside the room flowed through to them. H
e held up a hand and Winters high-fived him.

  A massive amount of information crashed over them. The deluge kept him from figuring out what the hell was going on, but with Winters hooked in—a rush, a dangerous, alluring rush—the flow of magic became manageable.

  Four bodies passed the wards. Two mages. Can’t feel the other two, assume magehelds. Sessani’s not there, he said. That was a disappointment. Both the mages inside had been at Winters’ house. Surprise, surprise. Two of his four lurkers accounted for.

  Winters pushed out with her own magic, and that was helpful for them both. Her concern settled down. Yes. Two. She meant magehelds. One might be a problem. The other one. . . I’m not sure. Strong, I think.

  Winters shimmered at the back of his head, and he tightened up on their link. Magehelds weren’t a nullity to her the way they were to him, so it was useful to access her awareness of them. As soon as he adjusted to sensing through her, the magehelds flared up in this backward way that never failed to surprise him. He’d been present at too many rituals—onlooker, participant, killer—not to know that the mages intended one of those magehelds to be dead before much longer.

  He closed his eyes and waited for patterns to emerge as the occupants moved around the room. Before long, the information coalesced into properties he could assign to specific individuals. One of the intruders, a mage, held something that pulsed with a magic of its own. Assembling materials from the cabinet. Mixing, altering, pushing a steady stream of magic through the ingredients, shaping the connections between molecules. The steps had been burned into his being.

  They both marked the points where the mages were sloppy and when they hit the right combination of steps. Kynan amplified that information and concentrated on the signature of the substance: a freshly made batch of the paralytic he’d taken back in Kensington.

  One mageheld to sacrifice. One for protection and anything requiring physical strength or handling the more dangerous magic. They would have been smarter if they’d brought a third. Magellan had nearly always worked with three. If the first one died too soon, there was a spare. Then again, when you were double-crossing your partners, you had to keep on the down low.

  As Winters had said, two mages, one far more adept than the other, and two magehelds. One of them, possibly both, significantly strong. The mages had dosed themselves with copa, so they were operating at above-normal efficiency and would be until the drug wore off. One was holding power but not using it. Normal for this setup. That one’s job was to react if something went wrong with the ritual. He’d take all necessary steps if either of the magehelds got free or needed to be brought under control again or killed. He’d step in if the other mage got in over his head or if assistance was otherwise required.

  Could you indwell from here?

  This was the benefit of hanging with smart women. He stopped breathing for a second, stunned by the implications of Winters’ question. Jesus, what if he could?

  Try?

  Why not? He picked out the mage nearest to one of his wards and concentrated on him. Not the stronger of the two, so, likely not Cifai. Winters opened herself more, and he drew on her power, too. She had power, sure, no one ever denied that, but there was subtlety there that gave her unparalleled precision in her use of magic. They made a formidable combination, the two of them.

  None of the other witches could keep up with him. That was a fact. She rested a hand on his shoulder, and hell yeah. The information coming through his wards turned into a three-dimensional map of the interior room. Unfortunately, he couldn’t indwell from here.

  Fucking rubies. If I’d set the wards differently, maybe.

  Agree. The rubies interfere. It was worth a try.

  If he’d thought about it from the start, it probably would have worked. He would have shaped the wards differently if he’d thought about pushing his power through them like that. Disappointed, he fell back to absorbing the information flowing through the wards. He recognized the magic the mages were creating because Magellan had invented this perversion. These two weren’t half as good as Magellan or Sessani.

  He’s ramping up his magic before he deals with you.

  Winters’ revulsion came through clearer than her thoughts. She was reacting to the changes in the magic being constructed inside. Like him, she recognized the build-up to killing magic.

  This can’t happen. It can’t.

  Right on all counts. One of the magehelds went cold to Winters—that was probably the paralytic taking effect. The primary mage, most likely Cifai, was constructing the lattice that, once he removed the mageheld’s heart, would direct the demon’s unmoored life force wherever the mage wanted it to go.

  He was in with Winters on this one. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by while they tried to make something like that happen on purpose. When it came to shit like this, Winters had a hair trigger and zero tolerance. He loved that about her. He loved it even more that, given what was going on inside, that they were going to end the murdering fucks. Everything flared hot, and it didn’t matter one single atom whether they got along.

  Inside, the mages drew more power. Halfway to what they needed. He wasn’t on board with going in guns blazing, metaphorically speaking, not without a team for backup. A remote indwell wasn’t possible, but he could probably screw up the magic enough to fail the ritual. In a room constructed for the purpose of amplifying magic, it was also possible interfering could make everything worse.

  Winters leaned against his back because she knew the contact would help him. Even with the copa, I don’t think they’d notice you, she said. She tightened her fingers on him and stayed ready, but out of his way. Just a light touch.

  Got it. He pushed their combined magic through the wards. Not an attack. As their incursion solidified, he saw the flows of power through the room as if the two of them were standing right beside that steel-coated table. If he wanted to, he could explode his wards and kill everyone inside.

  Be subtle, warlord. That’s not subtle.

  I like when things go boom.

  Restrain yourself this once.

  He opened himself to her enough to see what she experienced. A different view of the same world, one that was structured by human physiology. They merged their perceptions, and it was a trip, the way his interpretation of the magic took on a different resonance. By mutual agreement, they focused on the weaker of the two magehelds. Winters had the control and accuracy best suited to their goal so she made the first delicate tap into the magic the enslaved demon was holding.

  The mageheld twitched and went still when her interference whispered through him. Concept proven. There wasn’t another demon who knew killing rituals as thoroughly as he did so she had no problem letting him join in. They settled on the mage drawing the most power. Winters had the precision, but he could and did direct her to the place where their interference would escalate to failure. Together, they disrupted the ramp-up to the killing magic. Just a nick in the flow. Then another.

  The other mage compensated for the defects, feeding in and shoring up the ritual magic where it faltered. They weren’t anywhere near as good as Magellan had been, and that made it easier to fuck with them. Winters handled magic like a surgeon, and he threaded his own through hers. Perfect. They didn’t want the mages realizing their ritual was going too wrong to succeed. Not yet.

  He and Winters returned their attention to the first mage. He saw how they could get into the mage’s head—their combined magic made that possible—and then they did. Winters directed him to the knot that was the primary mage’s bond to his magehelds, and Kynan’s senses came alive with that reflection-like representation of mageheld kin and the fetid stink of their enslavement. Farther away, outside the house, he felt the backwards reaction of more magehelds. Durian was out there too, but he was keeping his distance because there were fifteen magehelds. Two to stand guard, thirteen to deal with him.

  Not going to happen, Winters said.

  They focused on the tangle o
f the enslavement bond and turned it into a supernova. A scream boomed through the meshed wards even though no sound penetrated the titanium doors. Immediately, one of the magehelds inside flashed into Kynan’s awareness. Not Vahid, so he hadn’t taken down Cifai. Two of the magehelds outside came alive to him, too.

  The progression of the ritual magic stopped.

  One down. Grim satisfaction from Winters.

  The mage inside reached out to the remaining thirteen magehelds.

  In his back pocket, Vahid’s phone vibrated. Winters pressed her hands to the door and blew it open. As one, they moved inside.

  CHAPTER 15

  A newly freed demon was unstable and unpredictable. They often lashed out at anyone and anything within range—another mage, another demon, any human unlucky enough to be close. Heading into a confined space like this, where a ritual killing was being carried out, Kynan took the point, hot and with a hair trigger.

  His power rolled through the room in a breathtaking torrent. His body blurred at the edges as he moved toward the mage. Everything else moved in slow motion.

  Inside, Maddy crouched by the door, her back to the wall. Her tight connection with Kynan flashed hotter yet. Her vision went blank, to be replaced by Kynan’s view of the room. She steadied herself with a hand to the wall and fought for her bearings amid the anxiety of knowing that a former mageheld was in this confined space and that thirteen more massing outside could arrive at any moment.

  Maddy’s ability to distinguish the boundaries between her and Kynan flickered like some sort of psychic strobe light. While she dealt with that distraction, information from his bizarre connected wards flooded through her so fast she could barely make sense of it. The lights buzzed and dimmed, and each of Kynan’s wards glowed. Per standard operating procedure, even without a solid grounding in herself, she checked off the occupants of the room that weren’t Kynan or her. There should be four in unknown condition: two demons, two mages.