by Gaja J. Kos
Silently, I swore a vicious blue streak, then shifted my attention to the spell keeping me in place. Not only preventing me from escaping, but actually holding my limbs as if I were bound. Dark fucking magic—with a dash of demonic undercurrent to amp up the juice.
Shit. This wasn’t good.
The blend created a powerful, nearly impenetrable barrier, but worst of all, I knew the demonic signature embedded in its structure.
“What have you done to Tevan?” I hissed, allowing every ounce of my wrath to saturate the words.
The warlock—and he definitely was the warlock, judging by the sheer power undulating from his flesh—offered me a cold smile.
“I presume you mean the demon who gifted us with these beauties?” He twirled one of Tevan’s knives through the air, a low, disgusting laugh ricocheting off the grimy chamber walls. “You’ll find out soon enough. Unless, of course, you show a little bit of goodwill and cooperate.”
He took a couple of steps forward, then sheathed the knife.
“I must say, I was disappointed when my colleague’s little blast didn’t take you out,” he drawled. “But once I realized what you are, the misstep proved useful. Not that Urinek will ever know, buried and bloodless as he is.”
He smiled, and it was all I could do not to lash out and waste precious energy on something that would never happen. Not while the barrier was this strong.
“Well, good for you,” I said dryly. “But I still don’t see in which scenario I’d get to live.”
Amusement touched his eyes. “I’m after only two things, dear demon spawn. So yes, you could still walk away unscathed. Well”—he chuckled—“maybe a little bit bruised.”
Huh, well, this was interesting. He said he’d learned what I was, but could it be that he actually didn’t know I wasn’t really a demon but a Nightwraith? Because whatever the warlock had originally wanted and, I suspected, took from Tevan, it was certainly something I was unable to give.
While my energy and skills could appear all demonic to an outside observer, everything about my power was touched by my father’s magic, too. Even something as small and simple as demon fire burned brighter because it was fueled by nature. By light.
I huffed inwardly. This certainly opened up a couple of possibilities.
If the warlock believed I was like Tevan, the disgusting smugness that rested on his face suddenly made a lot more sense.
He trusted his wards were infallible.
They were strong as shit, true, and even for someone as powerful as Tevan, they might have been unbreakable. But I was half Koldunya and attuned to Earth’s magic more than any pureblood demon could possibly be.
There were entire miniature universes I saw within our world. Surely I could find what I was looking for in one of them and use it as a key to break through. There was just one major downside.
I needed a crapload of time to unravel such an elaborate design.
I ground my teeth, willing the rattling of my thoughts to quiet down. I had no doubts Liva would have pulled it off in a matter of minutes, but I was a more slice-and-dice kind of girl, not a virtuoso of the ethereal. Didn’t matter. The last thing I needed right now was to brood over the injustice of fate and heritage.
So I pushed away that final nagging of a nasty mood and leveled my gaze with the warlock’s. Time to take another path.
“So what is it you want?” I asked, my chin held up. “I can feel my kind on you already, so I hardly think your demon high is wearing off…”
He smiled, and I really, really wanted to punch his fucking face. “Fishing for information?”
Definitely. But he didn’t need to know that.
“Hardly.” I shrugged—as much as I was able to with the spell on me. “You were the one who wanted my godsdamned cooperation. Look, I don’t want to die, but how the fuck am I supposed to give you something if you don’t even tell me what it is?”
The warlock strode closer. Quickly, I ceased my probing at the ward, unsure whether proximity made his senses more acute. It just wasn’t worth the risk.
“If you insist,” he said smoothly.
He strode around me in a circle. Then another. And another.
If he was going to keep it up, I just might throw up. I was willing to bet that wasn’t something the ward was designed to contain.
“You’re right. The high is still there, but the advantages of it are pathetic,” he spat out. “Just a weak echo of what we could have. But if you were to bind us, my dear, we could all share your strength.”
I almost snorted. Almost.
Didn’t he know that bindings gave demons control over their subjects? Yes, there would be certain benefits for them, but ultimately, I would still be their master.
While the thought of being connected with the asshole repulsed me to my very core, I only needed to bear the strain until the bond was completed. After that, nothing could keep me from bringing them to the ground. And under it.
Yeah, I could live with that.
However, the knowing gleam in the warlock’s eyes made it clear there was a grand flaw in my plans…
He chuckled. “Your friend was eager to bind us, too. At least until he learned of the spell that would reverse the dynamics of the relationship.”
“No way.” I bristled. “It’s the natural law of things. You’re the weaker species.”
“Hence the existence of the spell.”
For a moment, I just stared at him, trying to figure out how that was even possible. I’d never heard of a human commanding a demon, let alone a bound one, but given how well this particular fucker had managed to restrain me—to keep me from reaching the godsdamned cord that was my birthright… Well, I had to admit I wasn’t quite so sure of myself any longer.
And that was a fucking awful thing to feel.
I pinned the warlock with my gaze, hoping I hadn’t gone as pale as the nausea inside me indicated. “So what went wrong? With Tevan? I’m presuming your little trick didn’t work?”
“Ah,” he whispered, and there was something almost delighted about the sound. “Trust me, the spell would have worked seamlessly had he chosen to cooperate. But to force him into a bond… My magic lacked that certain bite to override the demon’s control in such a sacred matter.” Mirth touched the corners of his lips. “Unfortunately for him, it didn’t prevent me from using other methods.”
My stomach felt like I’d eaten a plateful of rocks. Even the taste in my mouth was dry. Ashen.
I forced myself to arch an eyebrow at the warlock, prompting him for answers I wished I didn’t have to hear. “You stole his essence.”
“I have. And it gave me just the proper boost I need to force a binding onto someone.” He made another circle around me, and I seriously contemplated at least spitting in his infuriatingly self-assured face since my stomach decided to stay eerily quiet on the whole vomiting thing. “I had desired a higher ranking demon for this particular cause, but you’ll do, girl. You’ll do. Besides, this way, I’ll get to kill two birds with one stone, and that’s never an opportunity to waste.”
I glanced past him to the hooded men waiting by the far wall of the room, but their faces revealed nothing. It was like they were caught in his thrall, the hunger for my power the only thing they still knew, the only thing that held value in their fucked-up minds. These men weren’t warlocks—they didn’t have even the slightest dash of magic in their veins. Aside from the stolen essence of Tevan, making them more, they were utterly human.
Yet the wrongness wafting off them made my skin crawl. Fanatics, that was what they were.
I studied them a bit longer while the warlock dragged on his dramatic pause. Although I still recognized only the two I’d spotted the instant I regained consciousness, it was clear the assholes knew each other. Yeah, I was willing to bet my ass they all belonged to Kauer’s organization.
But one thing still didn’t make sense… Why would a crime lord like Kauer let his men get all amped up on demon juice?
Shouldn’t he be here, taking a piece of the cake? I mean, it was a fine prize after all, something a persecuted criminal could certainly use to walk away from all manners of trouble other gangs or the authorities could throw their way. So why not join them now that the warlock could fulfill the ritual?
It was then that it dawned on me, what was in it for Kauer. What it was that I alone could give, aside from demonic strength.
And yet when the words spilled from the warlock’s lips and hung between us like the wretched stench of sadistic death, something inside me broke.
“You, my dear,” he purred, eyes glistening in the semidarkness, “will not only be my way to greatness. You will deliver Zeman to us. You will be the one to make him kneel.”
Chapter 20
“No,” I hissed as the warlock’s words resonated in my head. “No fucking way.”
Caz might have made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with me, but I wasn’t going to hand him over to these murderous fucks just because I was supposedly a woman scorned. Even if I wanted to, that roar inside me, screaming to protect my mate at all cost, took over my every thought, every impulse, until my fingers would have been alight with demon fire, if the ward hadn’t been there to repress it. I’d rather die than lure him here.
“Oh, that part of the deal is nonnegotiable, dear hunter,” He smiled, showing just a slight edge of teeth. “You will deliver him to me. The only thing that still hangs in the balance is what will become of you once I’m done. You can live out the remainder of your days as a demonic lapdog, Lena, or join what little is left of your liege’s right-hand man in the realm beyond.”
The thought of Tevan—sweet, stable Tevan—stabbed at my chest. He didn’t deserve this kind of end. No one did.
“Such gracious choices.” Venom dripped from my voice, so thick and vile, it was a wonder it didn’t dissolve the ward. Naturally, that kind of luck would be too much to ask for. “I think you have enough wheels in that fucking hideous head of yours to know which one I’ll take, but”—I raised my voice as he started to turn around and motion to his men—“do a dying demon a favor and spill out one last puzzle. The girls, the sacrifices… You really think you can call forth the essence of Zirnitra?”
His laugh was low, a rumbling cascade that ricocheted off the torchlit walls until I had the distinct impression I was part of some shit horror film. The warlock turned around, a spark of red flaring up in his hazel eyes.
“My dear Lena, I already have.”
And then he hit me.
He hit me with the full strength of his twisted power—with the essence he’d gained not only through Tevan, but the ancient god of sorcery himself. My vision blurred, the chamber turning into a daze of darkness and fire. I cried out in agony as his magic ravaged through my flesh, breaking through barrier after barrier until it pummeled straight into my core as if I were some unprotected rookie. But even as I fought the intrusion, as every last bit of my power focused on blocking his, one of his cronies slithered closer and sliced a dagger across my forearm. Crimson gushed from the wound, and the sudden, sharp explosion of pain momentarily stole away my control.
“Interesting,” the warlock purred as blood and magic spun through the air, the smell a coppery, yet sweet fragrance that invaded my nostrils and drew out every damned fear I’d managed to stash away.
He could really do it. He could trick the binding into making him its master and me its pawn.
But even more so, as his magic swept through my core and illuminated every darkened corner, I knew those two secrets I wanted to protect above all else were now his.
“You taste of magic, Lena.” He cocked his head to the side, dark hair falling across his forehead. “Not a full demon after all.”
His buddy sliced the dagger an inch beneath the previous cut. Only this time, he went deeper, drawing more blood for his master to command. The potency of the spell grew, the air becoming thick with the unnatural taint, with the vicious demand that radiated from the warlock. It seeped into my flesh, calling forth the bond I tried to restrain so feverishly I thought my mind would fracture.
“Full-blooded demon or not, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He laughed, and I really, really wanted to shove that sound right down his throat and make him choke on it. “I will take pleasure in commanding you”—he tugged on the bond linking me with Caz—“and, Lena, I will enjoy watching you lure Zeman right to the gates of the underworld.”
As the warlock’s intrusion grew heavier, I tilted my head back with a scream, then lashed out with all the strength I could muster. My teeth caught the hitman standing by my side in his cheek, and I bit in, tearing flesh and letting his blood coat my tongue.
The bastards were clever. But they weren’t the only ones who could steal someone’s essence.
Pushing away my revulsion, I fed on the remnants of Tevan’s power, fed on those whispers of Zirnitra flowing through the crimson, and let them enforce my own core. The warlock’s ethereal grip on me didn’t lessen, but I didn’t need it to. Not right now.
My thoughts were devoted to nothing but the ward keeping me contained, focused on the single thing that could still make a damn difference in the fuckers’ plans.
Shivers rushed through my flesh at the exertion, but I kept pushing. Eventually, my magic slid past the ghostly hands trying to rip the command of the demonic binding from my core, then surged past my flesh, my skin, and rammed into the wall that hovered less than a hair’s width beyond. With the essence I’d stolen and the blood magic I’d used, the press of power wasn’t so foreign any longer. I thrust my own will into the threads, searching them until I found a seam in the intricately woven design.
It was nothing more than a tightly knit break in the otherwise homogenous structure, but sufficient for me to implement the change—to write myself in as an exception and grant me the ability to leave.
I barely managed to sink a single vine into the threads and rewrite its nature when the tearing at my inner well of magic caused my concentration to falter. I lost my grip, lost that fucking foothold I had only needed to expand, and cried out instead. Shit.
Quickly, I dropped my attempts and directed every ounce of my strength into preventing the piece of shit from reaching his ultimate goal.
If he gained one more inch, the bond would extend between us.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down my spine, its touch terrifyingly chilling. I didn’t even have the strength left in me to swear. I was barely holding the warlock at bay, and with the barrier still in place, this was one durability contest I knew I was destined to lose.
Rummaging through the scattered threads of my mind, I searched for anything I could use to make the bastard back off, but all I found was a shitload of useless information. A disgusting amount of options that would work if I’d only manage to tear down that fucking wall. I had to—
A shot rang out.
Then another.
My lungs filled with air as I felt the warlock’s ethereal hands retreat, but the chilling smile coupled with the cold glint of his eyes that met the interruptions robbed me of that pitifully brisk relief.
“No,” I whispered.
But the warlock was already moving, his magic aiming for the one person he wanted more than me.
Caz.
Chapter 21
Caz moved like a shadow through the ocean of flesh, his gun going off at meticulously timed intervals, each shot pointedly followed by a man toppling down to the ground. Ruthless and efficient, his preternatural speed was on full display, his movements bearing the grace of a born predator.
Only he wasn’t the only one.
Touched by the demonic, the warlock’s flunkies pulled off maneuvers and reflexes no human should ever be capable of. They recovered all too quickly from Caz’s attack, regrouping and putting a new plan into action. Perelesnyk or not, Caz was just one man. And his bullets wouldn’t last forever.
Even now, he was slowing down, clearly reluctant
to waste ammo on anything but a clean shot.
Chills descended down my spine, my limbs, the urge to break through and unleash myself upon the men attacking my mate a frustrated roar deep inside me. The hitmen struck, then retreated, occupying Caz and gradually eroding his iron focus. The first of his shots went wide.
“Behind you!” I shouted as a nasty bit of scum tried to slice a dagger across Caz’s back.
He rammed an elbow into his face, but not before a thin line of crimson welled just beneath his shoulder blade and soaked through his white tee.
Impossible. It should have been impossible for anyone to get close to him like that. And yet the wound was there, a terrifying reminder that these men weren’t only twisted through the essence of demonic strength, but supported through Zirnitra’s blessing.
Motherfucker.
I needed to get out of this cage. Now.
Retreating into myself once more, I focused on my power. The wrecked nerves, coupled with anger and fear, made me stumble as I traveled down metaphysical paths. I swore and tried again, but only managed to scoop up a little of my strength when a sudden increase of noise snapped my head up.
More men poured in through the door and all but flooded the chamber. For a brief, stupid second, my hopes lifted.
Caz had brought reinforcements.
The men wore plain clothes, not the robes these Zirnitra-loving assholes preferred, but the instant they started to maneuver through the fray, it was clear they only had one goal in mind.
Killing Caz.
Shit. Throwing tact to the wind, I pushed my magic at the ward, scrambling to find that damned seam again. A shout stopped me cold. My heart jammed in my throat, I looked up.
The bastards were crawling all over Caz, and he was fucking losing.
I heard the distinct click of his gun going empty the split second before the sound was buried in the frantic slap of flesh and a tattoo of grunts that ricocheted off the walls. But beneath it all, I heard a voice chanting… The words were unfamiliar to me, but I could sense the warlock’s intent just fine. And it was nothing I wanted to see him succeed in calling.
