Demons & Dragons

by Gina Kincade

  Unprepared, he hadn't dreamed this would happen. Of course, he hadn't imagined she would have magick. He still didn't understand how he hadn't known before, but he had to table that discussion for another time. Right now, he had to save her. No matter what.

  He grabbed for a sheet, placing it over the glass tabletop beside him, luckily in the room within her magick bubble. It wasn't exactly the round piece of glass they tied up and covered with a dark material to portal their evil friends, but he had to believe it would work.

  Laying down under it, holding it up with one hand, he grabbed her with the other to drag her under with him. While her energetic bubble broke a second, he yelled to her to use what power she had left to combine with his in order to knock the rest of them out. She listened, tried, even though he could see the uncertainty on her face. Their energy clashed together, an out of control spiral of dark and bright light, evil and good, sparking in places, dying away in others, igniting an unknown. Yet, the circle of beasts, who had fallen when her protection broke, got up, approached on them, dazed from fighting her.

  At some point, it all exploded around them, the alchemy, the glass, the water. Everything went dark.

  Chapter Eight

  Fighting for consciousness from the haze of deep sleep proved slow, like trying to remove molasses from her brain. Her eyelids fluttered under the rays of warming sun, only to give up and stay closed despite the prickle of skin starting to burn. A body, with bones that had to be made out of bricks, held down her weary muscles from movement. The success of wiggling a few fingers and then toes wrought a faint smile, a light giggle, or whatever the strangled noise that actually came from her dry throat could be classified as. Memories of the night before tried to invade, hastening her from semi-coma to panic. She turned her head from the blinding light. Her cheek thumped lightly against a wooden floor, letting her open one eye despite the brightness.

  Seeing Ciaran there, his eyes closed, his face unburdened with worry, obviously sleeping or unconscious, had her torturously sitting up despite every numerous and insistent protest of her body. His chest showed the slight rise of life, letting her frantic grasp for breath come in a painful blast through her strained and scorched lungs. Images of beasts dawned in her brain, making him, as a naked man, sprawled out, give her a moment's pause.

  She took in her surroundings, found naked men everywhere. Given the men were creeps, of the most diabolical kind, she could only get excited about the fact they were unconscious. Each of them sprawled in various ways, surrounded by water littered with debris. They'd floated, faces up, rather than drown, and she just didn't know how to feel about that. The remnants of an explosion, the luxurious house brought to splinters and fragments of glass, filled the once gorgeous scenery as far as she could see. From what she could surmise, her and Ciaran had been at the epicenter of the blast, unaffected other than being rendered unconscious. She ached from the hangover of overused magic; absolute, sheer exhaustion. A sloth could move faster than her right now.

  The whisper of the idea of them waking up, too, got her moving, standing, bracing, her mind in overdrive for a way out, a way to outrun these men with an unconscious Ciaran who had to be double her weight in sheer muscle mass alone. With their magicks having battled, she had no idea how long he or the others would sleep, how long their power would be down and out. Hanging over him, she could feel it all alive inside him, just dormant, asleep, weary like hers. She had no idea at this moment how to wake him, or how he would wake, more man than beast or more beast than man.

  Options, each one worse than the last, rambled through her brain, raced against each other as they were each tossed aside for practical or fearful reasons. Each one left her more panicked, more desperate. Sheer survival mode kicked in when she'd tossed out the last thought, until another came calling again. An old spell, one she'd read as a child, that had been dismissed as 'dangerous' by a miffed mother, made it to the forefront of her thoughts again. Teleportation. It took a skilled practitioner, or it could end in disastrous results of magical cells raining down through the atmosphere. The spell, however, came to her crystal clear. She'd tried it before, truth be told, and lived to tell about it. Although, to be briefly honest with herself, she'd never taken someone along for the ride before. Ciaran wasn't exactly awake to ask permission of. And, if she remembered correctly, the fact she'd followed him blindly into some magickal situation last night, explained the explosion that had rendered them all unconscious.

  As the man she loved stirred, a sound in the water around them taunted her as well. Out of options if the other beasts woke up, she started the spell in a reckless, frantic, turn of words which tumbled from her mouth. She took Ciaran's hand in her own, gripped tight, eliciting a groan from him along with a slight squeeze back. She imagined an underground lair of sorts that her mother had told her about; one used when her mother had been a young girl in Ireland to practice her youthful and wild magick in. While Allanah had never been there, her mother had shown her pictures, told her many stories, so growing up she'd imagined it many times, longed to go there herself. So much so, she'd looked for it on a map, used the wonders of the internet to pinpoint its location.

  She'd always planned to go as a child, to teleport, pop in hopefully when no one was looking. So, she'd had the spell, the location, at the ready. Seemed like the best time to try it out. What other option did she have? Risking it all, only having an idea of what the place she wanted to go looked like, and hoping she'd gotten the location correct—the reasons that had held her back from trying it before—she began the teleportation spell. Recklessly, she continued, with love full in her heart, and an undying hope they'd actually make it to the lair. If not, she supposed anywhere in Ireland without beasts was better than in this place with them. However, this lair could possibly provide her with the answers she needed to save the man she loved. According to her mother, it was filled with old family grimoires that she had longed to read for years. Somewhere in them could be the key to dispelling Ciaran's demon.

  As she recited the words, again and again, conjuring her tired powers, she imagined herself by the fire as she let what magick that had recharged swirl around them. She pictured Ciaran in the cage she'd seen in the pictures, the one in the lair her mother had said was for animals, who had been used, never abused, in their spells. It had also been used a time or two for prisoners, dangerous witches from other covens, who needed to be questioned. Her mother, of course, had claimed to spend time in the cage herself, when her family had put her 'on trial,' as she'd called it, for magical mistakes made during the desperation of love. She'd managed to escape, the cage and Ireland, in ways she'd not told Allanah about, never to be able to return again. Hence, the whole deal with Ciaran's dad.

  Simple metal rods, close together, pushed into the floor and ceiling of a low, small crevice of the cave. The bars had been cemented and spelled into place. A door, spelled as well to hold, still held heavy chains and locks. A bed sat in the back, one they had put in for her mother during her stay there after her infamous screw up, something Allanah believed she'd never get the full story on. Again, from the stories of her mother's vivid, painful memories, Allanah felt she'd been there. So she hoped to make it there for real now, in one piece rather than as a blob of spelled cells exploded during travel as other witches had arrived, or more to the point, never arrived, in places they'd attempted to teleport to.

  She banked her magic on the desperation of true love, though, on the belief they had to make it or die trying. At this point, for her at least, there was no longer a life without Ciaran. If this short trip, their time apart since seeing him at the party, had taught her anything, lesson learned, the extravagant, well-lived life she'd had without him was not one she wanted to return to. Nothing mattered without this man in her life

  Sounds of the others stirring from around them, groaning, hastened her reticence of the spell. Just as Ciaran opened his eyes, looked into hers, the water around them, littered with debris of the beautif
ul home they had shared for one night, blurred, disappeared. The power of her ancestors called upon for help, the magick swirled in iridescent colors, blinding, dizzying, until she had to close her eyes. She fought, as well, the urge to cover her ears from the roar of the tornado-like wind around them. When the sounds stopped in an instant, her breathing heightened, rough, burnt her lungs. The tight grip they had on each other's fingers overshadowed any pain wrought of the desperation, a blessed reminder of being alive. She dared to open her eyes. The far reaching beauty of the water had been replaced by the dirt walls of a cave, her hand holding his through the wire trappings of a cage.

  "What the fuck?" he yelled, as their fingers fell apart.

  She brought her hand to her chest, sitting up, scooting back and away from him. She'd have started pacing if her rubbery legs could've managed it. She wiped at the sweat which had formed on her neck, wishing she could politely rid herself of what dripped between her breasts. Muscles jumped under her skin, yet as she observed her surroundings, she had to hold back a squeal, the need to high five someone for a job well spelled. She fanned herself, tried to calm her breathing, all while avoiding his scowl lest he dim her moment of astounding achievement here.

  "I did it," she said, her words choked but high pitched as she did a happy dance in her head, one short and sweet as even for that she didn't have the luxury of time. "I transported us without killing us."

  "I'm in a fucking cage," he grumbled back, his voice deep and full.

  While she ignored a few more decadent seconds, he rattled the metal until she thought it would fall to pieces around him. Yet, it held, spelled to hold in even a bear or a powerful witch, her mom had told her. Looking his way, though, as his eyes flashed red, she wasn't sure it would secure a demon.

  "We are in a secret cave in Ireland, one my mother told me about. I'd never been here before, but had seen pictures, knew the location, and I needed to get my hands on the family grimoires if I had any hope of saving you...us. So, I brought us here. Having no idea what shape you would be in after last night, I took the precaution to imagine you in the cage. Odd thing is, the whole spell worked. While I had a pretty good idea as to where I wanted to go, if I walked out of here right now I'd have no idea what is above us. I mean, a house is, but from there I'd basically be lost in Ireland."

  "That's the odd thing?" He said, obviously pissed, his voice harsh in more ways than just angry would have made it. In fact, he seemed a bit scared, wide-eyed, rather than having them in tight slits. "You teleported us with a spell? You do that often?"

  "Well, no. Once before. Alone," she mumbled the truth, unsure why she felt the need to tell all. "A thank you or congrats on a job well done would be nice."

  "Once. You'd done it once? Alone? You could have killed us!"

  "I had to try. Your coven, your brothers, for heaven's sake, would have killed us if we'd stayed. They were going to wake up more pissed than you are, and ready to fight again, I'm sure. I wasn't sure what I had left in me to fight with again, and I figured the next fight was going to be to the death."

  "You weren't sure you had enough to fight, but thought you still had enough juice to move us, two bodies, overseas?"

  "You're alive. Get over it." She pitched a fit right back at him, sudden ire catching in her throat, making it hard to swallow.

  "I'm alive but in a fucking cage. Get me the hell out."

  "No!" She yelled back at him, then took a deep breath to calm herself before she continued, "No. Sorry. I don't know what shape you or your demon are in after the flashes and fights of magick last night, and if you would calm the fuck down you'd realize you probably don't either."

  "You're right," he screamed, then she watched him take a deep breath as well. "Sorry. Just sorry. I don't know what kind of shape I'm in. You are right. Fuck. Sorry. My demon is frightened, I think. Pissed. But scared, too, I guess, though for a fiend from hell it seems illogical. Yet, there is no other explanation. Anything can fear its demise, I suppose. You are that threat."

  He sat there, quiet, speculating she assumed, so she gave him a moment. Thrilled to have one herself, she attempted to center herself a bit. She needed to be clear-headed to figure out what their next move was, and she had been anything but since he walked into her building.

  "Yes. The beast is fearful, in a way, and I didn't know it could feel such an emotion. Sure, it's basically rage, but rage built out of fear of annihilation . Apparently every living thing, even if spawned from hell, has it. It makes sense, right? Somehow, when we joined together, it made it fear for its life inside of me enough to tick it off big time. It's agitated and confused. It fears your magick. So that has to be it, what can save me. Us. I'm now sure of it."

  He laughed, a sound abrupt enough to startle her, though also deep enough to bring an icy chill down her spine.

  "I'm not sure whether to be happy or terrified myself," he continued. "Yes. Keep me in here. It's definitely best. Do you think you can actually eradicate this thing inside of me?"

  "Not sure. And, even if I find a spell that makes me think I can, I don't know enough about the original spell to know if the only way I can get rid of it is to kill you."

  "I have no life with this beast inside me, because as long as it is, I can't truly have you. I want it gone, and I believe with it all the others go, too. Get to work, babe. Again, sorry about the temper. And, sorry I can't help. I feel so useless, and that, well, that pisses me off. So, I will sit in here and work on that."

  "One hundred percent understandable. I did something stupid. Yes, it worked. Yes, it saved us. But, it was still stupid."

  "I love you, Allanah. Save me. Save us."

  "I'll give it all I have in me. I love you, too, Ciaran."

  With those words, something inside her healed. And, with that hollow filled, she felt her magick build, the pure and vibrant heat of it swirled like a sudden tornado inside of her core. Rather than double over with the overwhelming ache, she stood up, straighter, lighter, ready to go as she'd never been before. Miraculous, she'd have to term it, to get something you never realized was missing, and to be full of it until anything seemed possible. Love. Magick. Wiping out a demon to save the love of her life. She felt invincible. Unstoppable.

  With all of this bubbling up inside of her like a cauldron over a fire, she stood with a smile, drawn to the energy emanating from the wall of books opposite where she sat. The pages whispered to her, as if generations of witches in her bloodline were rooting for her. As foreign an occurrence as that was, she stood, grateful, her fingers wiggling beside her, itching to touch the books.

  "I'm not sure whether to cheer or fear that smile you just got there," he said, his voice calmer than it had been just a few moments ago. "Whatever just changed in you, it's contagious, and it's antagonizing the shit out of my demon. So, you must be on the right track. I'll shut up now. Let you get to it. If I beast out, please ignore me."

  A glance his way showed the physical trauma of his peculiar aliment weighing on him. The oppositional feelings in one being had to be agonizing to deal with. His dark brown locks appeared black, probably from the debris of last night along with the dark corner he had curled up in, having scooted to the back of the cage. His heavy-lidded, ice blue eyes flashed red and then back to blue in a mesmerizing way. He crouched, like an animal about to attack, every muscle tight, bulging. She couldn't be sure if he was ready to pounce or fighting the urge to. Probably both. His hand clutched at his washboard abs. She'd be lying if she said the look of a fierce and dangerous man, one so strong, so wounded at the same time, didn't excite her in her own twisted way. Yet, her sympathy won out, along with her drive to save him. As she turned back to the books, she clamped down on that sexual energy, planning to utilize it when she needed to, anything to power the spell she so desperately hoped to find.

  She started to search the grimoires with no real idea what she was looking for or where to look, letting the magick, the connection of her power to her ancestors guide her hand. She
kept willing a spell to just show up, repeating a locator spell in her head, to no avail. More to the point, did a spell that mixed her nature-given magic with a demonic one even exist? The whole idea was crazy, to use the demon against itself in order to send it screaming back to hell. If she could just find something close, any spell that had worked the two magicks together, she would at least have a place to start. Yet, she knew better. One of her kind wouldn't work with one of his, so this hopeful search would surely all be for nothing. Still, she had to try.

  At the very least, something about exorcising a demon might come up, give her a viable starting point. They could pull in his magick as they went, dangerously play with it all. She glanced back at him again. He looked worse, if possible, struggling to hold on to his human form, she supposed. He gave her a short-lived smile, but he knew as well as she did the wild goose chase ahead, a desperate attempt by desperate people fighting to just keep hope alive. She glanced over the spines, the many dull colors, old bindings, her frustration mounting. If nothing else, she didn't want to face the reality that hope was all they could realistically have.

  "Shit!" she said on a long sigh. "I'm getting nowhere here. I've found a few spells that are protections from demons, but nothing to stop, kill, or better yet, exorcise one."

  "Just try something," he countered, his own sigh more audible, yet more broken due to physical discomfort.

  He still crouched in the cage, only wearing pants. With a side glance, she watched his abdominal and shoulder muscles jump, tense, ripple as each wave of whatever his body was going through passed over him, whatever the demon was doing to get out. She looked away, at her book, and as her stomach growled, painfully, she realized they'd not eaten since dinner last night. She looked to the bowl filled only with an overripe banana, and a sad looking apple. A box of open crackers sat there as well. While she could have grabbed something to eat long ago, the food represented the fact people still used this place; people who could come back at any time.