With white chalk I’d picked up from the dollar store, I drew two circles on the old boards, one within the other. Then within the band created by the two circles, I carefully marked the sigils illustrated in the book. The chalk scraped over the old wood, making a sound disturbingly like the scratching of claws. I set around the candles next. Then I used a little oil I’d brought in a water bottle, and poured it into a brass cup I usually reserved for Moscow Mules.
The scene was set.
Blink, blink, blink went the camera’s little red light. Recording, watching — the unflinching eye to take in everything I did.
I lay the grimoire open right at the edge of the chalk circle. I lit the candles, and their flickering light danced across its surface, across the illustration of the Killer. Striking gold eyes stared at me in the dark, and goosebumps prickled up my spine.
I’d been careful for years. I’d always been respectful. I’d never brought out Ouija boards, I’d never fucked with things that were said to have the potential to expose me to dark and dangerous shit. Any paranormal investigator worth their salt would have shaken their head at me, called me foolish and ignorant.
“Nothing is going to happen,” I said softly. My words felt hollow in the church’s dead air. “Just get it over with, Rae.”
My notes were composed of cobbled-together sentences I’d translated, bits and pieces taken from various prayers and summoning instructions throughout the book. I’d written them in English, even though I was certain Latin would have sounded more authentic, but I feared I would stumble over pronunciations and look even sillier than I already did.
It was my last chance to back out. I could stop recording, throw these notes away, and leave. I could cling onto my integrity as an investigator.
But integrity hadn’t gotten me very far.
I held my notes to the candle flame’s light, took a deep breath, and read, “Powers of the Elder World be beneath my left foot, and within my right hand.” My voice shook. I knew I had to sell it, I had to sound as authentic as possible, but this felt wrong. “Glory and Eternity touch my shoulders, and guide me on the Path of Victory.”
The rain had begun to fall in earnest. It pattered on the roof and dripped down through the hole, trickling into the pools of stagnant water beneath the moldy old boards. The air smelled of dust and wet dirt.
“Spirits of Earth, guide me through the Nether Realm. Great Angels of Eternity, protect me. Voices of the Unending, strengthen me.”
I didn’t feel so numb anymore. There was a tingling in my fingertips and the tips of my toes. I felt like a block of ice had been set in my stomach. The Killer’s eyes still stared.
Watching.
Waiting.
“With this power granted unto me, I issue this command.” I made my voice as demanding as possible. With the chalk in my hand, I wrote a final symbol on the old floorboards in the center of the circle, beneath the cup of oil. A symbol which, I could only guess, was a name.
“I call upon this servant of Hell! I demand thee come forth, make of yourself flesh and bone.” I traced over the symbol again and again as I spoke, thickening the lines and grating the chalk into every little crevice of the wood. “I demand thee come without aggression, I demand thee bring no harm to your summoner, I demand thee come in obedience and — fuck…shit!”
The chalk snapped. The force I’d been applying to it slammed my hand down and scraped my knuckles against the wooden boards, hard enough to cut. Hard enough to bleed.
Wincing, I held up my hand to the camera’s light. Blood welled up, and dripped slowly down from my knuckles onto the floor. Damn it. Something told me this place was far from sanitary. I scrambled up, and rummaged around in my backpack. I needed an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit and —
My eyes widened. My breath froze in my lungs.
The blood that had dripped into the chalk circle was steaming.
I stared in disbelief. There had to be an explanation. My blood was hot and the air was cold so…so it would steam, of course. But it wasn’t just steaming, it was coagulating. The droplets thickened, they shuddered, they began to run together. They gathered over the symbols I’d written in the circle and sunk into the letters, turning them red.
No...no, no, no, this was could not be happening.
The reddened chalk melted across the boards, spreading like thick, liquidus wax. The redness filled the circle completely, stopping right at the edge of the chalk. The steam darkened, becoming thick black smoke that filled the space with the smell of charcoal. My chest tight with panic, I slipped on the straps of my backpack and lingered nervously behind the camera. It was still recording. I was capturing all of this...this was the evidence I’d been searching for, hoping desperately for.
What the hell had I done?
The camera’s flash flickered. The church groaned as if a hurricane was pressing upon it. Adrenaline flooded me, telling me to run. Some deep, primal instinct filled my head with one unending cry: danger, danger, danger. This was the lion in the grass, the predator in the dark. My heart beat against my ribs as my legs tingled with the desire to flee.
The camera’s flash went out; it audibly burst with the sound of shattering glass. In the candles’ flickering orange glow, the smoke began to take shape. It became tall, humanoid...
It opened its eyes, and they were gold.
I did love making a dramatic entrance.
I’d known it was coming. Even as I left Kent that late night, flipping him off as I vanished into the ether, it was with the knowledge that I’d likely be dragged back in front of a summoner sooner rather than later. I couldn’t really leave Abelaum yet anyway, now could I? Someone out there had the grimoire, and that meant some little mortal’s fingers would be itching to try their hand at the magic contained within. I needed the damn book, I needed my mark in it destroyed. I wasn’t the only demon whose name was within it, but with my luck, I’d be the one chosen.
Lucky me.
They’d called me Killer as a warning, but somehow that just made me more appealing, didn’t it? Curious mortal minds couldn’t resist the danger.
I sent out smoke ahead of me. I brought the wind, I encouraged the rain, I filled the space with the scent of burning. Whoever dared summon me would know they were in over their heads. With luck, they’d make a mistake, they’d flee, they’d step outside their protective circle and when they did — oh, when they did, I’d make them scream. Most mortals weren’t so lucky to possess a protective amulet, like Kent had. It was the only reason I hadn’t killed him in all the years he’d held me captive, and his father before him, and his grandfather before that.
The room came into focus — a high steepled ceiling and ancient boards. The smell of dust and mold, flesh and blood...mint and sage? My gaze pierced through the dark, through the smoke, toward the punitive figure standing there, wide brown eyes staring at me through her glasses.
No...no fucking way…
She was scrambling, but as I came into being, she raised something above her head. In a fury I cleared the smoke away, dissipating it with a single breath but letting it linger around my feet — for effect, of course. There stood Raelynn Lawson, holding up a stick as if it were a baseball bat.
“Get back!” she screamed, her voice trembling with fear but vicious nonetheless. “Get – away – from me!” She punctuated every word with a swing of the stick, each swing coming closer.
Of all the people that could have summoned me, of all the goddamned people in this goddamned town, it had to be her.
I began to laugh at the absurdity of it all. My laughter was dark and loud, and it filled the room like a roll of thunder. She remained steadfast, stick at the ready, facing me down instead of running for her life. But as my laughter quieted, her face twitched and recognition gleamed in her eyes.
“What the…” She lowered the stick, fumbling for her phone. She flicked on her flashlight and shone it in my face, and I was quick to smooth out my disguise. Golden eyes became g
reen, my claws retracted. The urge to disguise myself was an automatic reaction to having a human look at me, but in this case at least, I also couldn’t have her completely losing her mind and fleeing.
I didn’t know how, but she had the grimoire.
And she was going to hand it over, one way or another.
“Leon?” She gasped, utter disbelief in her voice. I stopped laughing, letting the silence surround us. I dampened the sound just a bit too, so the quiet was smothering, so that it pressed down around her. I wanted her to realize this was a mistake. I wanted her to feel afraid. Just afraid enough to cooperate, not to flee.
Or so I hoped.
I could smell the adrenaline as it rushed through her, savory in its aroma of blood, sweat, and salt. Instead of backing down, she raised the stick again in one hand and kept holding up her phone with the other. What did she think she was doing?
“What the hell?” she yelled. “Is this your idea of a prank, asshole?”
A prank... she thought this was a prank. I chuckled, entirely unamused. “Oh, this would be a good prank, wouldn’t it?” I looked around, taking in the familiar pews, the altar behind me, the stench of old burned herbs and below — far below — the unnerving smell of seawater. We were in St. Thaddeus. She’d come here, despite my warnings not to, and summoned me.
The stubborn, disobedient, foolish little brat.
I leveled my eyes on her again, my gaze cold, and the stick shook in her hand, at the ready to strike. “What do you think you’re doing, Raelynn? Why are you here?”
“None of your business,” she snapped, baring her teeth at me.
“You’ve made it my business,” I hissed, taking a step towards her. She swung the stick wildly, ready and willing to try to bash my face if I got too close. She was brave, if nothing else. Foolishly, blindly brave.
God, I wanted to put her over my knee and teach her a lesson. She hadn’t even given herself any protection: no herbs, no sigils surrounding her feet, nothing. No one with a bit of sense would do something so ridiculously dangerous, and for what? She didn’t even seem to realize what she’d done, she thought this was a prank — but then I noticed the camera, set up on its tripod.
She’d recorded this.
She’d done this for a video.
“You little fool,” I said softly. “You hard-headed, insolent, reckless woman.”
“Shut up,” she said furiously. “Why the hell are you here, you creep? What the hell is wrong with you? Did you follow me out here?”
She truly didn’t understand. She thought I was merely here by coincidence. I was honestly stunned into silence at the realization. Never, in all my centuries of existence, had I been summoned by accident.
This woman was a walking disaster, a stunning danger to herself, and she didn’t even know it.
She threw down her stick and stomped passed me, kneeling to collect an open book from the ground. My heart lurched as I realized it was the grimoire, the urge to rip it from her making my fingers twitch. That book was my ticket to freedom. All I needed was for her to hand it over.
Hand it over willingly. The protective spells on the damn thing meant I couldn’t take it by force.
“Fucking weirdo,” she grumbled, shooting a glare over her shoulder as she collected her camera and tripod. “Who the hell does this shit? You’re lucky I’m not calling the cops!”
Oh, what I would have given in that moment to see her expression if I revealed my true form. I wanted to see that righteous indignation melt from her face, I wanted to see her fall to her knees in terror.
“Why don’t you?” I taunted. “Call the police, Raelynn, if your phone even has any service. I’d love to see how you manage to explain why you broke onto private property, and into a private building.” I chuckled, stepping easily out of the remnants of my poorly drawn summoning circle. She stepped back hurriedly, stuffed her camera into her backpack, and held up her phone. She was recording me; likely a smart move if circumstances had been different.
A smart move if I’d been human.
“Is this the attention you wanted?” She glared up at me as she blasted the phone’s flash in my face. “Well, now I have it on video that you’re a creep who follows women into the woods. Good luck keeping your job after this!” Her heart was pounding a million miles a minute. I could smell the sweat on her skin.
Her gaze moved toward the door, contemplating an escape. Then she looked down, to the dark stain on the floor where her chalk markings had been. She stared in confusion, her belief that I’d only pranked her not aligning with what she was seeing.
“How...how the hell?”
Before she could make a move, I grabbed her wrist and yanked her phone down, taking the annoying light out of my face. I shoved her back until she was pressed against the pulpit, among all the candles and the Libiri’s vile trinkets to the Deep One. It was too easy to forget how quick humans would crumble under my strength; reigning it in, especially when I was frustrated, took no small amount of willpower. I was certain I felt my disguise slip for a second as I grabbed her — although she couldn’t have noticed the flash in my eyes with her light pulled down.
Her eyes were like saucers as she stared up at me, her breath coming in nervous gasps. I leaned down, my face within inches of her, the scent of her flooding me. Fuck, earthly bodies were far too reactive to stimuli. My heart beat faster, saliva increased around my tongue, and my cock gave an interested twitch as her alluring smell surrounded me.
“I warned you, doll,” I snarled. She needed to learn, and if scaring her was the only way to do it, then so be it. “Didn’t I tell you to behave? I told you not to come here, not to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Now you’ve really done it.” With one hand still pinning down her wrist, I grasped her chin with the other. My hand fully encompassed her jaw and pressed against her throat; I could feel her thumping heart, pattering like a rabbit’s.
“You...you can’t tell me what to do,” she said, all the fierceness gone out of her. I grinned triumphantly to see her shrinking. This was no mere game to be recorded for internet fame.
This was life and death. This was my freedom on the line.
“You’re messing around with shit you know nothing about.” I pulled her forward by the jaw, forcing her to gaze up at me with those defiant eyes. “Curiosity can kill you, Raelynn. What you’ve started here isn’t easily undone.”
Her eyes flickered over my face in shock. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you, Rae.” She was pressed right up against me, her legs between mine — a dangerously tempting position. The feral desire to claim her — all of her, body and soul — roared up in me. I wanted to see her fall to her knees and beg forgiveness for her mistake. I wanted to feel her soul meld with mine in offering. I wanted to taste her come undone on my tongue.
Something must have shown on my face, because she began to struggle in my grasp. The wiggle of her body between my thighs made my grip tighten instinctively, a growl rising in me, and her eyes swelled when she felt me restrain her.
But not with fear — with arousal.
Oh. So that’s how it was going to be, was it?
I took both her wrists in my grasp — such breakable little bones — and pinned them above her head, right against the carved wooden cross on the pulpit, making her twitching fingers a blasphemous Christ. I traced my finger along her stubborn jaw, pausing where I could feel the eager ba-bump, ba-bump of her heart.
“You’re very lucky, Raelynn,” I said softly, holding her gaze, “that I don’t bend you over this pulpit and teach you a real lesson about not fucking with things you don’t understand.”
A little whimper burst out of her. Somewhere between disbelief and desire, she grit her teeth and growled back, “I’d like to see you fucking try, asshole.” She ground her boot down on my foot, as if she could hurt me. I chuckled, as my fingers reached her chin and the tiny, delicate dimple right below her pouting lower lip. She went still as I brushed
her mouth, tracing the contours of her lips, her breath shuddering over my skin.
“Don’t tempt me,” I growled. “Just be a good girl, give me the book, and go.”
She had tucked the grimoire into her bag, which was slung over her shoulder and pressed between her back and the pulpit. She’d stopped resisting, so I slowly released my hold on her, and for a moment she didn’t move, other than her eyes. Her gaze moved over me slowly, assessing me, contemplating the risk.
Then she dodged away.
It would have been too easy to catch her. I faced her as she began to back toward the exit, her knuckles white as she gripped her phone. If she wanted a game, how could I deny her?
“Raelynn.” I smiled, approaching slowly, nonchalantly. “Give me the book. It’s for the best, truly it is.”
She shook her head. “No. The book is mine.”
“The book should not exist!” There was a petulant, possessive tone that had come into her voice in her desperation to cling to that wretched grimoire, and it stoked my anger again.
“Get away!” She was backing away hurriedly as I advanced. Little fool would rather run than cooperate. She wanted a chase, did she? She wanted a hunt?
Then she’d get a hunt.
I stopped advancing. I watched her retreat with the smile spreading wider over my face.
“Give me the book.” My voice was soft in warning. “Otherwise, you’re going to be a very sorry girl.”
Her jaw tightened. “What are you going to do?” She sneered, bolder now that she had distance between us. “Threaten me more?”
“I don’t make idle threats. If you run out of here” — and I knew she would — “then I’m going to hunt you. I’m going to catch you. And when I do —” A thousand possibilities flashed through my head. A thousand sweet tortures. A thousand ways to stoke that arousal inside her until she burst. “— when I do, I’ll make you scream.”
Her Soul to Take (Souls Trilogy) Page 9