by Shona Husk
Like life. No wonder Freya wanted to touch it. Why had the Morrigu wanted him to have this? This magic wasn’t channeled through a deity it was within him, and his skin was bursting with it. He had no idea how to turn it into something useful, but it was all he had, because the little grace he had left from the Morrigu he was refusing to touch until he needed Her.
Finally, he sat in the middle of his circular rug. He tried to find the calm to start the spell, but all he could feel was the pacing and the need to move. The two needs warred within him. He’d lost his focus. Forever or just while in this body?
He got up, accepting the need to pace.
The Morrigu had always told him if he had to fight, he needed to pick the battle ground. His apartment was warded and had everything a witch could possibly need. Even a witch like him who dealt mostly in contracts. He’d always thought that without a goddess he wouldn’t be a witch. But with the hellhound, he had magic. So he was free to choose who he served. If anyone.
Freya gave him nothing but orgasms—he did understand the attraction to Her. But he much preferred the calm threat of the Morrigu. He always knew where he stood with Her.
To stay quiet, so he didn’t wake Alexis, he walked the edge of the mat. Around and around until he could close his eyes and keep to the circle. Then he turned his attention further inward, to where the energy of the hellhound also paced. He’d kept it locked up for so long. The chains he’d built were broken, blasted away by Freya, but there was still a fine silver chain looped around its throat like a collar. They faced each other. Witch and beast.
Would the magic kill him if he unleashed the hellhound?
His physical body drew in a breath. He was dying already. Did Freya take his life in months or years? He’d much rather go down fighting instead of sinking into endless pleasure.
Clearly, he’d spent too much time in the service of the Morrigu. His physical muzzle opened into something that passed for a grin.
The hellhound stared back at him, waiting for its moment. Its yellow eyes were wide and luminous, beauty where there should be none. Its teeth were gleaming white daggers that could tear a man in half, but the hound didn’t seem so terrifying now he had gotten to feel the magic.
He needed every advantage he could get; if that meant embracing the wild magic of the hellhound, he would. Anything to save Alexis. He sent a quick prayer to the Morrigu that She’d kill him before he hurt anyone—She could at least do him that favor—then he reached out and broke the final chain binding the magic and keeping it safe.
The hellhound pounced and knocked him onto his back, but instead of landing on his chest it sunk into him. Even here, in the depths of his mind where he controlled what he saw, he became the half-human monster. He wanted to howl but didn’t. He had to be silent and the beast understood. It knew the danger and was already licking and healing the wounds left by Freya tearing pieces of his soul out. The hellhound was helping him, not trying to destroy him. The fear he’d been holding onto turned to smoke and drifted away.
The inside of his chest tickled, as though rasped by a dog’s tongue, but he couldn’t focus on that. He needed to get to Alexis while She slept.
In his mind a bookcase appeared. On it were various trinkets he’d made over the years. Spells he could access by thought alone because he’d given them shape and weight and knew their feel like he knew his hand…or had known his hand. The hand he saw was tipped with black claws, the skin thicker and the hair darker, but even now the claws felt familiar. As if they had been his for a long time even though he hadn’t chosen to use them.
On the top shelf was the golden bag that he needed. Sometimes it was useful to talk to client’s true selves, not the self they presented in his office or at the coven. He didn’t like to do it, as all kinds of truths could be revealed, but it had saved his ass more than once.
The gold bag was cool and silky. He spent a moment getting reacquainted with the feel of it. Then he brought it to his nose to smell. He startled, he didn’t usually sniff things. But the other magic wanted to know how this spell should smell and it was important. It was a small concession and Peyton thought for a moment before assigning it a scent. Cinnamon and white chocolate—soothing and friendly and not at all threatening—and he breathed it in, now able to smell it. Carefully he untied the bag and drew out a pinch of the golden powder. It felt like beach sand between his fingertips.
As he did this, he was aware of his feet still walking in circles and the pile of the rug tickling his soles. He thought of Alexis sleeping in his bed. Something that should be bringing joy only brought hurt because of how it had been done. But she was there, and in her sleep he should be able to reach her. And only her. He thought of Alexis and blew the dust from his hand.
It twirled in the air and then he could see Alexis sleeping and slowly waking. She sat up, confused, probably because they were in a space he controlled. There were no walls or floors, just a few random things in his mental workspace. She stayed on the bed, not trusting there would be anything beneath her feet.
Peyton walked over. Her eyebrows drew together as if she couldn’t work out why he was here; tomorrow she’d think it a dream. But the seeds would be planted. He needed her to realize the danger she was in. To fight back.
Alexis smiled. “Peyton?”
“Yes.” He didn’t look like himself, but she still knew him. Did she fear him? “I won’t hurt you.”
Then she patted the bed next to her. “This is my favorite kind of dream.”
He tried not to smile, though he was glad that she’d dreamed of him. He hesitated, not wanting her to think this was going to be one of those dreams. He’d already been with her twice like this, half-man half-hellhound. How could she look at him with joy and desire when he looked like this? The beast within him rumbled unhappily. It liked the changes and was worried that it would be chained again.
No, that won’t happen again. I need time to get used to this new shift, that’s all. For the people I know to get used to it.
The hound settled. “I’m here to give you a warning.” Could he be more formal?
She pouted.
He tried again. “You’re in grave danger.”
That got her attention; she sat up straight. “What do you mean?”
“A goddess, Freya, has hijacked your body.”
“Oh. That. I know. I’m doing all kinds of fun things now. You don’t like it. But we…” She tilted her head and stared at him.
“I do like you, which is why I’m here.” He knelt and clasped her hands with his clawed and hairy ones. “She’s burning through your soul. Human bodies weren’t made to hold the power of a god.”
She leaned in. “It’s amazing. I can do anything I want. People follow me.”
“She killed two people while in your body.”
“They were horrible people. Did you know I’ve had to take calls from Campbell’s wife while he’s at lunch with his mistress?”
Peyton hadn’t known Campbell had a mistress. “That’s not a crime worthy of death.”
Alexis drew back. “She made the cats do it to show me what I could do if I wanted. I don’t want to give up this power.”
“She’ll kill you. Maybe you have a month, maybe less. The longer She’s in you, the more control She’ll have. I’ve seen the changes and I’m scared.”
“You’re jealous because my goddess is beautiful and you’re…”
“What? A monster? You weren’t throwing me out of bed earlier.”
“You never wanted me before I had Her. You only want me now because of the magic.”
“I’m not jealous. But I have always wanted you. I just didn’t want to be that guy who slept with his secretary.”
“Who cares what other people think?” She yanked her hands out of his. “I’m so tired of doing what others want. You want me to give up this power. My parents want me to settle down. Blah blah blah. What about what I want?”
“What do you want?”
Sh
e was silent for a moment. “To be me.”
“You can’t be you if there is a goddess riding you.”
“She gave me the power to be me and to be seen.” Alexis tilted her chin, daring him to argue.
He was losing ground and they were running out of time. The longer they were here the sooner Freya would realize something was wrong. “Is that worth dying for?”
“You wouldn’t understand. You aren’t human and ordinary.” Alexis knelt on the bed. “Yes. She told me… She warned me you weren’t as you appear. I saw you that night when I was feeding the cats—this giant dog-thing—and I didn’t believe it was you even though I could hear her whispering that it was. But you came over and you knew me, and I could see it was you in your eyes.” She reached forward and cupped his cheek the way Freya had. He wanted to pull away. Was it a move that Alexis would normally make or something she’d learned from Freya? “And now here you are like a horror-movie creature. What are you?”
There was no malice in her words, but they still wounded him. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”
He’d never wanted to be this. But he’d done it for her so they both could survive. But if she wanted to keep Freya, he would walk away. He’d lick his wounds—literally it seemed—and rebuild his life and purpose and magic. He wasn’t just a witch anymore. He was something far more powerful.
“You’d have lied to me while we dated? While we slept together?” She recoiled as if that was more revolting than any hairy muzzle.
“I’d have found a way to tell you.” Wouldn’t he?
“What are you? There’s always been something that stood you apart from everyone else.” She didn’t get close again but regarded him as if he were a puzzle to be solved.
He felt much the same about her. She shouldn’t have been able to sense his magic, but Freya had said it ran in Alexis’ blood. He’d thought her telling mistruths. Maybe not.
“I told you, I’m a witch. I channel the magic of the Morrigu.” Was he worthy of doing that again? “A few years ago I was bitten by a hellhound.” This magic was his own—gifted by the bite. The Morrigu had made him more powerful; he’d never looked past his fear to see what that meant. “If you could feel that about me then you are also a witch.”
“And I serve Freya?”
“No, She is using you and burning you up.”
But she was no longer listening to him. “So I can do real magic?”
“Not with Freya in you, Alexis. You have to push Her out or you will die.”
“I was dying before. Now I’m living.” She pushed him away and was gone. She’d broken free of the spell.
Tapping echoed through his head, like someone was knocking to get in. He sank back into his body, the way it was moving, still pacing in circles as though on auto pilot. He blinked and made his feet stop as he orientated himself in the room and in his body. His hands were still tipped with black claws. Strength flowed through his muscles; the need to run was in his blood. He snapped his teeth and turned to the window. A raven tapped its beak on the windowpane. Without pausing, he crossed the room and opened the window, letting the bird in.
It flapped around the room and for a few seconds Peyton thought he’d let a regular bird in, but then it settled on the back of a dining chair to stare at him. She’d returned for him, or was at least watching what he’d do next.
He had no idea what to do. He’d failed to convince Alexis of the danger; she’d been fully seduced by Freya. And while he knew he couldn’t save everyone—that was a hard lesson to learn when dealing with magical problems—this one hurt the most. If he stayed with Alexis, Freya would destroy him. To save himself, he was going to have to walk away.
Not every battle could be won.
“Well, you’re more tricky than I thought you were. I thought warriors had honor and a code of conduct, but you snuck in to Alexis’ sleep and poked around.” Freya leaned against the doorframe, naked. Her hair darkened to blood red and swirled about Her like a cape. “You forget there is more to me than lust, hound.” She pointed at him and Peyton was forced to his knees. “I should rip your soul out.”
Something tore within him, but there was something older and darker holding onto him. His soul was a chew toy and the hellhound wasn’t going to relinquish it to Freya. Peyton stared up into Freya’s emerald eyes and forced himself to stand by drawing on the strength of the hellhound. It was like lifting a car, not just his own body weight, but he did it. And panted from the exertion. He could resist Her, but he was sweating and shaking. He wouldn’t be able to cast a single spell because all of his will was being spent on standing. If there was ever a time for the Morrigu to help him, now would be it.
I should have trusted Your wisdom and plan for me. Accept me as Your sword so I may serve You.
The raven cried out and struck him on the back.
Peyton was forced to take a step forward from the impact. Then he wasn’t fighting Freya alone. The Morrigu filled him with magic as sharp as a knife and as ancient as blood.
“Sister. You are not playing by the rules.” His voice was his, but it reverberated through his bones. He was sure it could bring cities down. The Morrigu smiled with his mouth. Once my errant witch.
“She surrendered to me,” Freya said.
“Alexis didn’t know the cost. This one is an expert at contracts and your embodiment of the human wasn’t even a verbal deal. The wearing of flesh is a serious matter.”
“People have always offered themselves to me. They want to revel in my passion.” Freya tossed Her hair but no longer looked as certain. “Besides, you now wear him. How is that different?” Her smile shifted. “We could have some fun together.”
The beckon always got him in trouble. But this time it had no effect as the Morrigu shielded him. He’d vowed to serve the Morrigu and that had never changed. He’d felt unable to serve Her since being bitten. He’d been unprepared for Her faith in him to wield so much more magic than a human should. The price being his change in form.
“No. Step out of the body and let the human make a blood deal, if that is what she wants, and we will draw up the contract.” Those words cut his tongue. A sword formed in his hands—he wasn’t sure if it was metal or something else. Freya drew Her blade.
Oh shit. Two goddesses fighting wasn’t going to end well for the humans they were wearing. There was nothing he could do to stop it besides throwing the Morrigu out, and that would only leave him defenseless.
“Leave the woman’s body.” The Morrigu didn’t wait for an answer; She attacked. The sword sliced through the air. He’d never been very good at the weapons training and he much preferred to fight with words and a pen, but he was liquid attack and defense, knowing exactly where to put his foot and how to turn. The great shadowy wings on his back gave him lift and never got in the way. His furniture on the other hand…
The coffee table was tossed to the side like a broken shield. His sofa tipped as Freya used the back for height and launched Herself at him.
Neither sword cut flesh, but he felt each cut the blade made. The Morrigu’s sword pressed into Freya’s belly and Her mouth opened, Her hands covering what should be a fatal wound, but there was no blood.
We do not bleed as mortals, but she bleeds.
“Will you talk now, sister?” the Morrigu demanded.
“You want me out, but what if she doesn’t want to make another deal? Where does that leave me? Do you know how long it’s been?”
“Many years, sister, but you have covens that worship you.”
“They bore me. They want my magic with none of the fun.”
“No orgies.” Peyton ground out his words, but with the Morrigu’s power.
“Maybe.” Freya kept Her hand to Her stomach.
“You need to leave the body to heal.”
“Or I use up her soul to heal. Then neither of us gets her.” Freya’s smile turned bitter.
No no no. Peyton could to do this. He’d negotiated with deities and made contra
cts many times before. Freya was listening, and he had the Morrigu to back him up. The goddess within him flowed back a little, like a tide receding, still there and ready to surge forward but giving him the space to think. “You could go to nightclubs.”
“That was fun.” Her words caught on a purr.
“To be worshipped through dance, not sex.”
“No. I want rites.” Freya hissed like a cat.
Peyton thought for a moment. “There are clubs where people get together for sex. Maybe you don’t want witches, who are only there for your magic, but…swingers or something.” He could feel the Morrigu’s surprise at his suggestion. He was solving a problem and negotiating a deal. This is what he did.
“A club for sex? You will take me.”
“If you step out of Alexis’s body and let her talk, we can negotiate.”
A blue-grey cat jumped onto the windowsill. How a cat had jumped five floors up, Peyton didn’t want to consider, but it sat waiting. As long as twenty more didn’t follow, everything would be fine.
“The Morrigu must leave your body.”
“Agreed,” Peyton said.
I disagree. She will wait for me to leave and then attack, knowing you do not want the flesh hurt.
He knew it was a risk, but it was one he had to take. “On three?”
Freya nodded.
“One. Two. Three.” The Morrigu left him in a rush of feathers. For a heartbeat it felt like She’d torn a hole through him and the pain would never end. Then it was gone as his own soul swelled to fill the gap She’d taken over. He drew in a breath and opened his eyes to see Alexis crumple to the floor.
He lunged for her but was too clumsy and slow after being filled with the Morrigu’s grace. Alexis’ body was pale and tired, her hand still wrapped over the non-bloody stomach wound. He’d only had the Morrigu for minutes and it had hurt when She left. Alexis had been overtaken for more than a week. Her soul would take time to unfurl and to heal what Freya had taken. He picked her up and looked around the wreckage of his living room.
