Mal took Cara on a long walk, heading out the back door of the Salem house and crossing neighboring woods and farm fields, onto a narrow country highway, the kind no one ever bothered to paint lines onto. The late October day was cloudless and warm in the sun.
They walked in silence for a while, and Cara was surprised by how non-awkward it was.
They passed a white clapboard farmhouse that had jack o’ lanterns sitting in a line on the porch.
“We gotta get our pumpkins this year,” Mal said then. “We’ve been distracted, and there’s only a few days left.”
“Halloween is a big thing? What does it mean for demon-hunters?”
“It’s more that we’re into Día de Muertos,” he said. “Because of our mom. She did it up big. I was pretty young, but I remember that. It was a huge party every year. And she decorated, and dressed up, and there was food. It was great.” He smiled, kicking a few pebbles on the side of the road.
“You must still miss her, and your dad.”
“It’s not something you get over.”
“I keep thinking about Marigold,” Cara said. “I can’t describe how awful it felt, feeling her emotions. She’s had a really rough afterlife.”
“Maybe we can fix that,” Mal said after a moment. Then he asked abruptly, “Did you really not want a donut?”
“Of course I wanted a donut. But I shouldn’t have donuts.”
“But a donut would make you happy.”
“If you want to make me happy, stop talking about food.”
“Ok. You’re gorgeous, by the way.”
Cara bit her lip. “You are.”
“I know. But we were talking about you.” Mal grinned at her, taking her hand. “Should we head back?”
“Yeah,” Cara said. “You know you’re full of yourself, right?”
“It’s called confidence. I’m told chicks dig that.”
“As long as it doesn’t spill over into dickishness.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “You’ll have to tell me when I veer into dickish territory.”
“Count on it.” But privately, Cara’s head was whirling. Mal talked like she’d be around to tell him, like they were going to be together. Like maybe they were a thing.
When they got back to the house, the two nerds, as Mal called them, had taken over the living room, scattering papers and books around, most of them held open with other books, kitty-themed sticky notes, or in one case, a sleeping Piewicket.
In addition to the books, they each had multiple screens active for consulting the most recent records, and to confer with other practitioners. Lex paced the kitchen during a phone conversation in Spanish and Latin with a guy he addressed as Padre.
Mal explained in a whisper, “He’s a priest who also happens to be a third cousin once removed on our mom’s side. Padre Leandro works in the Vatican’s, er, less public archives, and he knows demonology.”
Vinny was acting as secretary, writing down any notes Lex or Lily recited to her.
“This is going to be a while,” Vinny warned them. “But if you want to be useful, Dom said we need pumpkins.”
Hours later, Cara and Mal returned from a day of errands—pumpkins acquired. Mal had spent a good half hour deciding which thirteen to get, and the pumpkin patch vendor was delighted to take his money.
Cara helped him unload the haul onto the porch. “You’re going to carve all these by Halloween? Are jack o’ lanterns really a priority now?”
“On Halloween, you bet. They help lead lost souls to a warm place and scare away more troublesome spirits. Ours especially scare away bad things, since we add wards into the carving and the candles.”
“Does that mean I can’t carve one of the pumpkins to be a cat like actual Pumpkin?”
He grinned, putting the last and largest pumpkin onto the wooden porch. “You can definitely do that.”
They walked into the house to find an excited-looking Lily.
“We think we know what’s up,” she announced.
The family and Cara gathered at the table once more, all three cats in attendance as well, though Pumpkin was just there for the string toys.
“How can we close the gate?” Dom asked.
Lex sighed. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I haven’t liked anything about that house.”
“There’s one ritual that should work,” Lex continued, “but there are a bunch of things that need to be in place. First, the summoning circle needs to be whole and complete, without flaw, and consecrated.”
“We can do that.” Dom then glanced toward her. “I mean, if we can convince Cara to work on it.”
She nodded. “I want to finish it. I know maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. And I’m close.”
“Ok. Once the floor is ready…” Dom said, looking to his little brother again.
Lex went on, “We need a bunch of herbs and supplies, nothing we can’t get our hands on. The ritual ought to be done on a night of power.”
Dom nodded. “Halloween. Easy.”
“And the last thing, which is not easy.”
Lily exchanged a glance with Lex. She said, “A successful closing ritual requires the sacrifice of a willing participant. Someone who chooses to enter the gate and seal it shut at the moment they’re on the threshold between here and hell.”
Cara felt the pressure in the room drop.
Vinny leaned in. “Guessing they don’t come back,” she said.
Lily shook her head slowly. “No. And they don’t get to go forward either. They’re just there, forever. It’s the ultimate sacrifice.”
“So they die.”
“No,” Lex said. “According to Padre Leandro, the ritual basically draws their soul out and makes it into a seal that will render the gate inoperable, but the person isn’t dead. Or alive. They’re…in between.”
“That sucks.” Mal’s forehead was wrinkled up in consternation.
“Yeah. He says it’s why the church won’t condone it. It’s tantamount to suicide. The details of the ritual are kept in the archives only for historical purposes.”
Dom looked over all the notes. “How are we getting around this?”
“The whole Catholic Church couldn’t solve it for a couple millennia, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Lex sighed.
“I wonder if that’s why the opening ritual got messed up,” Vinny mused. “Marigold said she ran away—maybe because she became an unwilling participant, that’s really what fouled the whole spell. And she’s stuck near the blocked up gate because she changed her mind halfway through the casting. She’s half in this world and half in the other, and she’s a ghost, but also sort of a key jammed in a lock that’s all rusted.”
Dom looked at her. “Damn. Why are you so smart?”
“It’s just a theory.”
“A good one,” Lily said. “Opposing rituals tend to mirror each other! It totally makes sense that the opening ritual would require a similar sacrifice.”
“How confident are you about this?” Mal asked.
“Look, there aren’t a lot of peer-reviewed journals in the secret occult libraries of the world. We do our homework, try to make sense of it all, and hope we’re not too far off.”
That sounded dubious. Cara looked over at Mal, hoping a sight of his natural confidence would bolster her own flagging spirit. But he just sat there, frowning at all the books and papers. And for some reason, Cara felt a shiver in her spine.
Chapter 25
Mal did not like the phrase “willing sacrifice.” He did not like the way Lex and Lily glanced at each other when talking about it, or the way Dom got that distant look on his face, the look he used to have before Vinny entered his life, when he seemed to exist solely to destroy evil and didn’t especially care if he came out unscathed.
His do-gooder little brother and his equally do-gooder best friend would be at each other’s throats in order to win the right to sacrifice. Dom would think it was his duty to jump into a he
llhole, and Vinny would probably do it herself just to keep Dom safe.
But it was Mal who’d had a vision. A vision that made it very clear that his choice would determine whether things ended up aces, or in flames. He’d only seen Cara in the vision, but what if she represented all that he loved? He’d seen her in a house like his, with happy kids, and a dog. That was the good outcome, the outcome everyone deserved.
And on the other hand, he saw a world of ash, a world that destroyed everything: people, homes, the little things that made life worth living. He’d seen Cara’s body, but who knew how many others were reduced to ash in that future? How many lives would be lost?
Or, maybe just one could be given up. Mal’s.
Really, he was the ideal candidate for a sacrifice. He didn’t have the gifts of the people around him. He was good for one thing: fighting. And wasn’t this sort of the ultimate fight?
He could go big or go home. Except that if he didn’t go big, there wouldn’t be a home to go back to.
He looked up to see Cara standing right in front of him. Everyone else had cleared off, intent on other tasks. He’d just been staring into space, lost.
“Mal?” she asked worriedly.
He couldn’t let on what he was thinking about, not yet. And not to Cara.
“Upstairs,” he told her, his voice gruff with sudden, undeniable need.
Cara raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”
“Find out.” He stood up and hooked his hand in hers, leading her up the stairs without another word.
In his bedroom, he didn’t bother to hit the switch, despite the swiftly setting sun. By now, he didn’t need any visual aid to know where to touch Cara.
Clothes came off fast. He didn’t say anything, and Cara kept silent too, probably partly because she had a shyness about getting it on when others could hear, and probably also wondering what sparked Mal’s latest lust.
It was the idea that this might be the last time he’d have her. The last time he might be with her like this, or at all.
You will be the death of her.
He swallowed painfully, his throat dry. Ok, one last time. Then he’d do the right thing, and say whatever he needed to say to get her out of the danger zone. Which was apparently anywhere near him.
Mal had no plan, other than hopefully screwing his brains out so he’d stop thinking of the short, shitty road ahead. A second of perfect bliss with Cara, pretending everything was going to be all right.
He inhaled sharply when he felt Cara touching him. Touching him just right, all in, just like Cara when she got interested in something. Her hands all over him, perfect, possessive little hands.
Then she knelt in front of him, and a second later her mouth was the only thing in the world. Mal put his hand to her head, threading her glorious hair through his fingers. He’d be lucky if he was still standing at the end of this.
Cara knew exactly what to do to bring Mal so close to coming that he begged her to slow down. She did, and that was even better.
He meant to tell her that was enough, that he wanted to move to the bed, finish this properly. But before he could get the words out, he went completely over the edge. He came hard, and Cara took it, and then he was somehow lying in the bed without remembering how he got there.
“Cara…” he said. Where was she? Didn’t she know this was important? That time was running out?
“Just getting a drink of water,” she replied, back again. She climbed into the bed, but didn’t lie down next to him. She straddled him, giving him a view of her that he’d once pictured, her red hair falling past her shoulders to graze the pink nipples of her incredible, perfect breasts. Her smile, knowing and a little bit shy, even now. Her curves, basically begging him to paw at her, which he did, because even if it was the last time, he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity.
Cara laughed softly, then caught his hands and drew them to her breasts. They both moaned, Cara in pleasure, and Mal in half-agony, wanting her and already missing her.
The wanting part of him grew stronger, and it seemed like no time until he was getting hard again. How could he not be, having the most sensuous, redheaded goddess right on top of him?
He put a hand out for the condom, but Cara grabbed it first. She ripped the foil open with her teeth. Yes, please.
And she put it on with her mouth. Yes, please.
He had to smother his mouth in the pillow when she guided his cock right into her body. No resistance, no adjustment. Just yes.
Was he saying yes? Yes, he was, over and over, half-muffled in the pillow.
“I like being on top,” Cara murmured, pulling the pillow away.
“I like it too,” he gasped. Cara could do anything to him right now, and he’d like it.
But all she did was ride him, slowly, leisurely, to her own climax. Mal watched her, and ached to think this was the last time. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair to find this woman just before he had to lose her.
Cara moaned a little when she came. He could feel her body tighten and flex around him. Then she leaned forward, letting her hair fall across him. “Your turn,” she told him softly.
He took her by the hips and started rocking against her. She opened her mouth in a soundless shock, and then smiled.
“More,” she ordered.
Easy. He could do more.
“Don’t stop,” she said.
He didn’t stop. And a moment later, Cara stretched upward, showing off those breasts as she reveled in another climax.
Mal couldn’t hold off after that. He finished fast, giving in to the desperation underlying his need.
Afterward, they lay together on the bed, limb stretched over limb. Happy.
For the last time.
Mal was great at breaking things off with women, but only because he’d never wanted to keep them going. And now, all he wanted was to keep this going with Cara. To be the constant man in her life. Not the hookup.
But that wasn’t his future, and he had the vision to prove it.
Cara turned her head to kiss him, her lips grazing his cheek. That felt way too good. Too domestic. Too caring.
He had to end this before he got in even deeper.
“How long do you think it will take you to finish the floor?” he asked.
Cara blinked in confusion at the topic, but yawned and said, in a languid, way too sexy voice, “Hmm, not long. If I ever get out of bed. Why?”
“Just thinking about timing. If you finished on the thirtieth, you could be on the road the morning of Halloween. You don’t want to be anywhere near here when all this goes down.”
She propped her head on her bent arm, frowning at him. “You think I’m just going to zip out right before the main event? What if you need me?”
“What would we need you for?”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, just a brief flash, but he hated it, and he hated himself for causing it.
But then it was gone, and he could see Cara smoothing it over in her own mind, telling herself she’d misunderstood. “Someone ought be on fire extinguisher duty,” she said with a little laugh. “The way you guys go through candles! And hey, maybe Marigold might need to hop into me again.”
“No. Way.” Mal didn’t even need to hide the heat in his voice that time. He definitely didn’t want a repeat of that.
“Mal, what’s up? Why don’t you want me there on Halloween?”
“I don’t want you here at all.”
She froze, unable to recode that into something innocuous. “What?” she asked in a small voice.
“Look, you need to do the floor, and you should do it as fast as possible. And then you should get out. Get on with your life. The faster you’re gone from here, the better.”
“The better for who?”
“Everyone. You for sure. You don’t have any ties here. Your next job could be anywhere.”
“I don’t have any ties here,” she echoed, as if not sure she’d heard him right. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
This sucked. Mal wanted to punch himself, but he clenched his jaw and plowed on. “You don’t need me to tell you that. You know it. You’re your own person. So wind this up and be your own person anywhere you want.”
She took a breath, fighting some heavy emotion, then said, “You’re veering into dickish territory. Which you told me earlier today to keep tabs on.”
“I’m just being honest.” Bulllllllshit. “You can have a life. You should go find it.”
Her eyes darkened, and there was a storm brewing there. One that would strike him, and he’d deserve it. She said, “Find what, exactly? You think all women secretly want to get a man and a baby and a picket fence?”
“You don’t seem like you’d be satisfied with a picket fence. You’d make a fancy custom fence.” Don’t lighten this up. You’re hurting her. You’re trying to hurt her.
“I would, if I ever wanted one,” said Cara. “Which I don’t.”
“A steady relationship isn’t even a little bit interesting?”
“Mal, I don’t have a steady life. Neither do you, by the way. You fight demons for a living. How is that stable?”
“All the more reason for you to find someone who’s going to take care of you.”
“You sound like my mother.” Cara sat up and pushed herself off the bed. “I think I should go.”
He didn’t stop her. He wanted to. He wanted to grab her and pull her back and tell her that the last thing in the world he wanted was for her to go.
You will be the death of her.
Mal closed his eyes. If he tried to keep her, he’d lose her anyway. The vision had been pretty damn clear that his inaction would result in Cara dying in the worst possible way.
Lex once told him to think of someone other than himself for a change. Well, now he was, and he knew why he’d avoided it before. It sucked.
But someone was going to have to sacrifice, and it looked like it was Mal’s turn.
* * * *
She got out the house as fast as she could. Three sets of feline eyes tracked her movement, but Cara was too angry to notice. The air had an autumnal bite to it, the sunset just bleeding into its final phase of red and purple.
Reach For Me Page 21
