The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set: The Witching Pen, The Sands Of Time, The Demon Bride, The Last Dragon and Wilted

by Dianna Hardy

  Paul ignored him and grabbed Amy’s elbow, leading her out the door.

  She stared at him, floored.

  Paul looked at her, confused. “What?”

  “Jerk,” muttered Christopher, finding his ego once more. “Sadistic bastard. Do you know what it’s like to lie powerless on the floor while your whole life does that flashing thing in front of your eyes?”

  His reply preceded the click of the door as it closed. “I do.”

  Chapter Eight

  It had taken Elena half an hour to gather herself after Karl had left, and in every way she could think of that description was accurate – she felt battered, parts of her scattered. For the life of her, she could not fathom what had just happened.

  She had forced herself to enter their bedroom and had proceeded to pack some magical items she’d left behind, the seed of exactly what had just taken place planting roots in her mind. The roots felt like an invasion; some cruel violation she couldn’t get rid of. And they just kept on growing.

  Her final stop had been to the garden where she had stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Mary and Gwain’s clothes lying on the grass … and Mary’s necklace. It seemed that her little clean-up of the property had left no stone unturned – any object that had been broken or misused in any way, shape or form had been fixed. Except her.

  The two Chinese symbols, which stood for ‘primeval chaos’, glinted in the light of the morning’s cold sun.

  Primeval chaos. Yeah – what a mess. That felt about right.

  She pocketed the necklace and took the clothes back inside, dumping them on the living room sofa.

  Tears threatened every second, but she felt numb more than anything else.

  She had then gotten the hell out of there, teleporting herself from the garden straight back to the penthouse, half hoping Karl would be there, and half hoping he wouldn’t be.

  He wasn’t.

  With still numb legs, she had made her way to the far corner of the leather couch and curled herself up, hugging her knees into her chest, and that’s where she’d been for the last ten minutes.

  The front door opened in one sudden movement and Amy and Paul rushed in, him looking annoyed and her looking wet, flustered and a little pale, wrapped up in a towel. Had she not bothered to change before making it all the way back up from the pool?

  “Amy, are you okay?” croaked out Elena. “What happened?”

  They both looked at her, seeing her for the first time and froze mid-stride with widening eyes.

  Oh, right – because my skin is the colour of storm clouds. Great. She wondered if her eyes were shining that eerie green light too. She wondered if Shanka demons got puffy eyes from crying.

  Amy was the first to approach her, still taking in her appearance, but showing no signs of being afraid. “That crazy shaman that attacked me last month knows I’m here … oh, and Paul tortured someone.” She threw him a glance.

  In exasperation he threw his hands up in the air. “Yes, to keep you safe, I did. So sue me.”

  She ignored him. “Elena, what happened?”

  She hugged herself in tighter. “Karl and I…” Crap, she didn’t want to go into detail. “We had a really bad fight.”

  “What?” Amy whipped around to Paul. “You know that Chamomile tea you make so well? Now is good.” She sat down heavily next to Elena.

  Despite his look of concern for Elena, he frowned at Amy. “We have an appointment in half an hour.”

  She glowered at him, and he sighed before retreating into the kitchen.

  “Is Karl here?”

  Elena shook her head. “He left the house – I asked him to, actually – and I’m not sure where he is right now.”

  “You guys never fight. What was it about?”

  “You know, I’m not even sure. I think he’s starting to resent that I am the way I am – a demon.”

  “That’s the most crazy thing I’ve heard today, and I’ve heard some crazy shit today.”

  “I wondered if … I wondered if he was maybe possessed.”

  Amy looked at her, incredulously. “Because you had one fight?”

  “No he… Fuck.” She dropped her voice. “He sort of attacked me.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Shhhhhh!”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. “He … hit you?”

  “No, no, no… He kinda … forced himself on me – I needed to throw him off.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know if it was my fault.”

  “No.”

  “The succubus, she’s been really needy lately – that’s why I look like this. I never seem to feel satiated at the moment. I must have given off a … vibe or something. I’ve affected men this way before.”

  “Isn’t Karl immune to your vibes?”

  “More than anyone else, but not completely.”

  “But he can give you what you need without it killing him, right? Because he’s an angel?”

  She nodded. “And because we’re soul-bonded.”

  “Right. It’s not you, Elena. Have you tried a revealing spell to check for demonic possession?”

  “Yeah, I did that before I left the house. I used some of his skin that I caught under my nails when I was trying to get him off. I didn’t realise … I’m not even sure where I hurt him.”

  “He hurt you,” snapped Amy. “You shouldn’t be worrying about where you hurt him.” And then she paused. “I still don’t believe it though; I just can’t picture him—”

  “Neither could I. This is Karl. Karl. He would never do this. The things he said to me … Amy, he was so cold. Karl’s not cold.” The wall of pain rose in her, chasing away the numbness. It was fucking agony – almost as bad as the time she thought she’d killed him. And maybe that’s what kept her going: it wasn’t as bad as it could get.

  No. It wasn’t.

  She straightened up and looked Amy in the eye, determination swelling within her, trying to reach the top of that wall to dominate the pain. “Something’s wrong and I need to find out what it is.”

  Paul brought the tea over and Elena took it, the heat of the mug a little too hot, but welcomed as a distraction from the emotional torment.

  “Well, if it’s not possession, what else could it be?” Amy placed a hand on her knee and spoke gently. “Are you really, really sure he’s not just … you know, taking everything very badly? He’s had a lot to deal with, and a lot to take on board in every respect – mentally, emotionally, financially…”

  She trailed off as Elena shook her head. “It’s not that. I can’t explain it, but it’s not. He had this look about him, as if … I don’t know.”

  It’s like I’m me, but not me.

  She shivered at the memory of his words.

  “Yes, but…” Amy hesitated. “Look, I’m not excusing how he behaved – it was completely out of order – but have you two ever argued before? Aside from his actions, was this a ‘normal’ argument that unnerved you because you’re not used to arguing?”

  “Aside from his actions?” she asked, annoyed. “Do you think I’m making a big deal of this?”

  “No, not at all – I said it was inexcusable, but I’m just trying to get some perspective here. You’re talking to someone who’s argued with every single boyfriend she’s ever had.”

  Paul grunted.

  She pinned him with a stare.

  Elena watched the exchange and doubt seeped in. Was it just a normal argument that got out of hand? Shit. She’d wondered that earlier, hadn’t she? And here she was trying to make it about something supernatural. Fuck. She was a witch – that’s what she did. And the ‘most powerful witch in the world’ knew squat about normalcy. “I … I’m not sure. He just … really wasn’t himself…” She let the sentence trail off, now more confused than ever.

  Amy gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her knee. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Finish your tea, take a shower and start the day over. By the time Karl comes home, this won’t seem so big and the
n you can both talk about it properly.”

  “Maybe talk to your mother about it too,” suggested Paul. “She might be able to offer you some insight.”

  Elena nodded, although the thought of explaining it all again, out loud, made her feel nauseous. Maybe they were right. Now back home, and feeling a bit calmer, she could see how her emotions might have gotten the better of her. Karl, uncharacteristically, had behaved like an idiot, but everyone in the thick of an argument came off like a bit of an idiot, didn’t they? He wouldn’t be the first. And neither would it be the first time she’d overreacted. Way to go, Elena. You push him to open up and the moment he does, you can’t take it.

  “Amy, we really have to go. The appointment—”

  “Is at eleven, I know, I know.” She stood abruptly, but leant down to give Elena a quick, tight hug. “You’ll figure this out.”

  She offered her a small smile. “Thanks.”

  Amy nodded, threw Paul a look that Elena didn’t know what he’d done to deserve, and then stormed into her bedroom.

  Her grandfather stood there for a second, looking completely irritated, and then exhaled and followed her.

  Christ.

  Her succubus gave off the equivalent of a stomach growl, her sacral centre positively aching with a whole load of lustful energy that had nowhere to go … just in case she hadn’t got the hint her demon was hungry. Wonderful.

  Ignoring the pangs, her mind wandered back to the mess that was Karl. The mess she somehow had to fix. He’d been there for her her entire life, a steady source of support and healing.

  Steady.

  That’s what she had to be. He was going through the wringer and she had to be steady. She felt anything but.

  But you’re going to be aren’t you? You’re going to be his rock now. And she swore it was the succubus whispering the words to her; pleading with her, encouraging her, needing this to be fixed as much as she did.

  Yes, I will, she soothed. She forced herself off the sofa and made for the shower.

  ~*~

  “Oh, come on in why don’t you – don’t mind me.”

  Paul shut the door behind him looking more than a little pissed off. “Will you stop it?”

  “Stop what?” she asked innocently, even though inside she was scolding herself for being so petulant. Why couldn’t she help it? She put it down to the apocalypse. Everyone’s nerves were short-circuiting at the moment, not just hers.

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth and she immediately felt sorry for being so bitchy. “We have to go in two minutes,” he said, “but afterwards, we need to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “There’s everything to talk about.”

  “No, Paul. There’s nothing to talk about. You’re on borrowed time, isn’t that what you said? You’re here to see the birth through and then you’re gone. You care about your baby so much, you won’t even fight for the chance to see it grow up!”

  Oh, shit. Where had that come from?

  The air hung around them, the silence broken by the ringing of her shrill accusation.

  He stood there, bewildered.

  She stood there, bewildered.

  “I don’t mean to…” he began, “I didn’t plan … I mean, I can’t—”

  “No, don’t. I shouldn’t have—”

  “I can’t change—”

  “I know. Please stop.”

  And unlike her, he did as she asked.

  She suddenly couldn’t breathe. Literally.

  Her hand went to her throat and she sucked at the air.

  Paul was there in two strides, bringing her down to the bed. “Sit. Head down.”

  No! She shook him off. It was worse like that. She didn’t need to huddle, she needed to stretch – expand her lungs. She stood up and gasped, hoarsely. “Can’t … air…”

  He cursed and hauled her towards the window, the action pulling at the loose knot of her towel and disrobing her of it. Spots swam in front of her eyes.

  “This is a panic attack.” He opened the window with one hand, while holding her up with the other. “You really should be sitting, with a paper bag or something…”

  She didn’t want to sit. She leaned towards the open window which offered the gift of the November air and felt a little better, the sharp cold taking the suffocating heat down a notch. With her towel off, the cold also hit her body and she relished it. Her head cleared and exhaustion crept in.

  Her legs trembled and she started to sag.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” And he did have. He’d moved behind her while she’d leant out the window and now supported her weight as she came away from it. She let herself fall back onto him, relieved she didn’t have to hold herself up on her jellified limbs.

  His arms encircled her just below her breasts, offering that security she craved. Only, it was an illusion, wasn’t it? He was dying – there was no security in that.

  “How long have you been feeling like this for?” he asked, and before she could answer him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She had no words, so shook her head again and closed her eyes. Instead, she brought her hand up and laid it on his.

  He loosened his grip enough to flex his fingers, and they entwined with hers.

  Gingerly, she looked up at him over her right shoulder. He was staring right back, a thousand words in his eyes, until his entire body stiffened against hers – and it wasn’t the good kind of stiffening, although she was pretty sure she felt some of that going on too…

  He brought his arms back, breaking their embrace, and then took both of hers and pinned them down to her sides. The action exposed her, sending an unexpected wave of desire tumbling through her body, and had he not had that odd expression on his face, she couldn’t say for sure she wouldn’t have caved in to it.

  “Paul, what is it?”

  “Look down,” he whispered.

  She did, and almost screamed.

  ~*~

  “Something’s not right,” mumbled Pueblo as he paced outside what used to be the portal to the Dessec dimension. Obviously, the portal was no longer there, but he couldn’t see a Dessec in sight.

  “We shouldn’t be here yet,” said Teigas, his tone hushed. “You’re not ready to face them – not your entire tribe.”

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. We came back to this exact spot, to this exact moment in time, because I sensed something was wrong. I still feel something’s wrong.”

  He saw Teigas’ shoulders sag and knew that, despite his reservations, the imp felt the same disturbance that he did. “So, what do you want to do now?”

  Pueblo gestured in front of him. “This would have been the entrance to the portal before the worlds merged, so we step forward and keep vigilant.”

  “Remember your training? How to hunt using all of your vision?”

  “I’m a good student.”

  Teigas’ lips tilted in a half smile. “That you were … eventually.”

  Pueblo raised his brow at him. “Were?”

  He nodded to where the portal once stood. “You first.”

  “You surprise me.”

  “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  They walked into Dessec territory, and Pueblo’s throat restricted with a hit of nostalgia as he remembered the first time he’d ever laid eyes on Amy. He had appeared, all fire and heat, pretty much right here. She’d been a few feet away freezing her backside off, but trying not to look like it.

  Jesus Christ, it hurt to miss her. The last dream they’d shared was almost five years ago now. To Amy, he suspected not even a day had passed.

  “You’re daydreaming.”

  “I’m remembering.”

  “Whatever you’re doing, it’s hardly vigilance.”

  He sighed. True. But she’s my sole reason for living; the reason I’ve spent the last few years of my life as I have. “Let’s call it, motivation; my call to action.”

  Teigas snorted.

&nbs
p; Pueblo smiled, then drowned everything else out as he focused on his task.

  They continued in silence, ears pricked, Pueblo’s cat so near the surface … but what a revelation that for the first time ever, he was walking in Dessec territory in his true human form. Strangely, it made him feel … older. Wiser. Aged.

  He stopped mid-stride, knowing what had halted him, but not wanting to give voice to it. He expanded his sight so he could see all around despite keeping completely still. Peripheral vision was a thing humans were not taught how to use, and what a waste of a natural ability. If understood and mastered, your peripheral vision became like an extension of your senses.

  “I don’t see anything,” voiced Teigas. “What is it?”

  “Blood. I can smell blood on the breeze.”

  Teigas wrinkled his nose. “Nice gift you’ve got there, shifter.”

  “This way.” Pueblo led them both north-east. He stopped once more about a hundred feet in. “We’re not alone.”

  Taking up position back-to-back, they stilled themselves and surveyed the desert, ready to strike if the moment demanded it.

  Nothing moved, not even the fine sand.

  His foreboding grew. He took a few steps back and didn’t get very far, because one of his feet sank some way beneath him.

  He cursed as he fought to maintain his balance, then froze as he saw what he’d unearthed with his movements.

  A Dessec lay dead at his feet, the patches of dark skin he could see already turning ashen from the beating sun and powdery sand. A strange, black substance covered most of him from head to toe, making him look like he’d been dunked in thick oil. His head was thrown back, his mouth open in a bid to either scream or breathe.

  He met the fairy’s eyes.

  Teigas nodded, held out a hand, breathed out a breath that seemed to last forever, and every grain of sand around them shifted, uncovering hundreds upon hundreds of bodies in the same condition.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Don’t think Jesus had much to do with this,” muttered Teigas.

  “We’re standing in the middle of a goddamn graveyard.”