by Sarah Piper
I circled the devil’s trap, trying to find some other way to break it. But whoever had done this had used powerful dark magic; I could feel its signature whenever I got close. It didn’t have the same effects on me as it did on Asher, but it was poison just the same. After less than a minute at close proximity, I was already weak and nauseated.
“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” I said.
Asher tried to speak, but all he managed was a bloody cough.
Steeling myself for another wave of sickness, I reached forward to touch his bare shoulder. His skin was feverish.
“I’m going to get you out of this,” I said. “Just… hang in there. And trust me.”
He didn’t respond, but I saw the hope flicker in his sea-blue eyes.
Backing a good six or seven feet away from the trap, I sat on the unvarnished wood floor in lotus position, just like Liam had shown me. Somewhere below, someone crashed down the staircase, Emilio growled, and Darius let loose a string of curses. I had no idea what was happening, who was winning, who was wounded… But I had to trust that they could hold off the vampires. That nothing would get through that attic door.
Clearing my mind, I centered myself and slowed my breathing, gently reaching out for my magic.
It came to me immediately, the now-familiar tingling across my skin. Though my eyes were closed, I sensed the tendrils of black smoke swirling around my legs. I didn’t fear it. Didn’t resist. Just accepted.
When I opened my eyes, I was in my meadow by the stone pedestal. It still smelled like fresh lavender and lilac, and I took a deep, steadying breath.
Beyond the pedestal, the trees parted again, revealing the path that would take me to the arch and the black skeleton-tree forest beyond. I hurried along until I reached the archway, the runes glowing bright silver-blue once again.
Passing through the iron gate, I reached for the closest branches, their familiar black-and-silver threads reaching back, sliding across my skin, closing around my hands and pulling tight.
I took a deep breath, feeling the fear surge inside me, then retreat.
This is my magic. There is nothing to fear.
I lifted my hands before my face, watching with a steely calm as they turned oily black, then ignited, burning with dark indigo flame.
“Gray? What are you doing?”
I turned to find Liam, dressed in the same jeans and red shirt I’d last seen him in. Beyond his usual all-knowingness, his Arctic ice eyes held a mix of curiosity and something that looked a lot like… pride.
“Magic,” I said, smiling and reaching for his hand. “And I need your help.”
Forty-Four
Liam
Gray Desario was full of surprises.
During her brief lifetime, I had already envisioned a thousand upon a thousand upon a thousand different destinies for her, each one equally possible until she made a choice, and then those destinies altered again, presenting a thousand upon a thousand upon a thousand different outcomes, beginning the cycle anew.
But perhaps—in all those millions and billions of possibilities—there was one even I had missed.
As she told me her plan, I was beginning to think that maybe we had all missed something. That maybe this witch was even more powerful, even more magnificent, even more incomprehensible than any of us could have predicted.
“So where do I fit in, necromancer?” I asked, very curious indeed about my role in this new potential outcome.
“Once Asher’s soul is completely inside me,” she said, “I need you to pull his body free of the devil’s trap. Then, you’ll have to Hoover his soul back out of me, just like you did with Sophie’s.”
“Hoover?”
“Suck it out, or whatever you call it.”
“Ah. Extract.”
“Yes, that. You’ll have to extract it from me and put it back inside him. But not until he’s out of the trap. Okay?”
“I understand your intent,” I said, “But demon souls aren’t like human souls. Unlike Sophie’s soul, which sought to connect with yours, Asher’s soul could possess you. It could destroy you. Or you could destroy him. We just don’t know, Gray. The risks are too great, the possible outcomes too many.”
Gray considered all of this, her lips pressed together in a thin line. After only a moment’s pause, she said, “That’s not a reason not to try.”
“But, Gray—”
“Liam. You keep telling me this magic is a gift, not a curse.” She raised her hands between us, her dark blue flame surging into the night, flickering the same shade as her determined blue eyes. “Well, this is our chance to find out.”
I felt my human mouth curve into a smile, and a feeling inside my chest I couldn’t name sparked to life. “Indeed it is, little witch. Indeed it is.”
Forty-Five
Gray
I was back in the attic.
“Gray?” The whisper floated to my ears.
After several heartbeats, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.
I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing but the demon before me, pale and shattered, fading from this realm.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Asher said, his head lolling forward, “don’t.”
Looking at him strapped to the chair, bruises covering his face, blood pouring from the gashes in his chest, I steeled my resolve.
His voice was faint, his body broken, his essence dimming. But the fire in his eyes blazed as bright as it had the day we’d met.
“Whatever horrible things you’ve heard about me, they’re all true…”
“Please,” he whispered, almost begging now. “I’m not worth…”
His words trailed off into a cough, blood spraying his lips.
He was wrong. He was more than worth it. Between the two of us, maybe only one would make it out of this room alive. If that were true, it had to be him; I couldn’t live in a world where he didn’t exist. Where any of them didn’t exist.
This was my fate. My purpose. My gift.
There was no going back.
I held up my hands, the indigo flames surging bright in the darkness.
And as I reached for him, I closed my eyes, sealing the memory of his ocean-blue gaze inside, knowing it could very well be the last time I saw it.
Acting purely on instinct, I guided my magic forward, searching for his soul. There was no fear this time, only decisiveness. Only hope.
“Gray…” Asher was fighting me with everything he had.
Fortunately, he didn’t have much.
I nudged harder, seeking his boundaries, pushing past them, trusting that Liam was with me. That he’d follow through.
Seconds later, Asher’s resistance finally broke, and I opened my eyes.
He was unconscious, his body slowly shutting down.
The mist of his soul slithered from between his lips, dark gray and eerily beautiful, points of light sparkling behind it like stars in a stormy night sky. Slowly, carefully, I drew it inward, feeling it slide into me, seeking its mate in my soul.
His sweet-and-spicy demon scent surrounded me—ground cinnamon, hot peppers, candle flame—calling up a memory of the day we’d first met at the park. But that memory was quickly chased away by others—memories we hadn’t shared. Memories that belonged to Asher and Asher alone, from a time long before I was even born.
A girl with raven-black hair and dark brown eyes, laughing as he chased her through a golden field.
The love and devotion in her eyes as she looked up at him through thick, dark lashes, pulling him down for a kiss.
I felt everything about that moment as if I were living it myself—his heart hammering, his love for her. His desire.
Their lips met again. The kiss deepened.
And just as quickly, those feelings turned to fear. To icy dread.
I tried to stop the memories, to close my eyes, to break the connection, but I couldn’t. This was private, this was painful, I shouldn’t have been there, and
yet I was, forced to watch the raven-haired beauty’s skin turn the color of ash as the light faded from her eyes, forced to scream her name, force to feel that soul-sucking loss as I tried over and over to bring her back, to take back what I’d done…
“Release him, Gray. Now.” The commanding voice broke through the fog, shattering the memory like glass. Slowly, the attic came back into focus. I was dimly aware of Liam’s hands on my shoulders, his mouth lowering to mine.
I felt the press of his lips, but my soul resisted, clinging to Asher’s. I felt the hold, the fierce connection, and though I knew it was wrong—knew it would likely doom us both—part of me wanted to let it happen…
“Gray Desario, release him at once!” Liam had transformed into the shadowy darkness of Death once again, his voice reverberating through me, forcing me to obey. I felt my soul shrink back, and with a searing pain like nothing I’d ever felt before, Asher’s soul finally left my body, taking with it the memories I’d seen, the scent of him, the feel.
Death’s eyes glowed bright blue, and then he released me.
I closed my eyes, falling to my hands and knees, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“It is done,” he said. And then he was gone, disappearing in a swirl of black smoke and raven feathers.
My insides ached. My outsides ached. I was wrung out and all used up, and all I wanted to do was collapse on the floor and sleep for a month.
But when I lifted my head and opened my eyes, I saw my demon lying on the floor, limp and lifeless.
“Asher!” I crawled over to him, feeling for a pulse. It was faint, his skin now cold and clammy, but he was still alive. I stripped off my hoodie and covered his torso, quickly rubbing heat back into his arms.
When his eyes finally fluttered open, a sob escaped my lips.
“Cupcake,” he whispered. He lifted a trembling hand to my face, but he didn’t have the strength to hold it there. “Haley… Took Haley.”
“Shh.” I smoothed the matted hair from his forehead. “Don’t worry about that right now. We’ll find her. Right now I just need you to be okay.”
I looked around the attic for something—a blanket? Food? First aid kit?—but the bare room held no hope.
I wanted to scream. I’d manipulated his soul—risked both of our eternal lives—to save him. Now he was going to, what? Bleed out? Fade away?
“Asher, I need to know how to help you. I—”
Oh, Gray. You dummy.
A slow smile spread across my face.
“You’re not going to like this,” I teased. “Not at all.”
I leaned forward, slowly lowering my mouth toward his.
“Don’t,” he said, trying to swat me away. “You could… hurt…”
“Asher, you’re a god damn incubus. If you don’t let me try, you’re going to die. Do you understand me?”
He shook his head, his eyes fluttering closed.
“What the fuck? You don’t want to kiss me?”
“Not… not like this,” he whispered.
“Yes like this, or there’s never going to be another time.” Why was he so infuriating? I straddled him and leaned forward, pinning his wrists to the ground. He tried to push back, but he was wasted. Utterly spent. All he could manage was to turn his face away.
I leaned in close again, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his ear, disregarding the blood and the grime and putting every ounce of sexy, sexual energy I could into bringing him back.
Finally he turned his face back toward me, our lips brushing, soft and silent as falling powder.
An electric current sparked across my lips.
Asher’s eyes blazed with sudden heat. It surged through his limbs, warming my skin where our bodies touched.
It was working.
With renewed strength, he broke free from my hold and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me down again, smashing his mouth against mine in fevered passion.
I felt the power of that kiss all the way to my toes, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure, the taste of cinnamon filling my mouth as Asher grew hot and hard beneath me…
“Feeling better, asshole?”
Ronan’s voice broke the spell, and I turned to see him standing at the top of the attic entrance, arms folded over his chest, his face almost as bloody as Asher’s.
But that grin told me everything I needed to know.
Forty-Six
Gray
Limping but alive, Asher leaned on Ronan and me as the three of us hobbled down the main stairwell. The brief but intense kiss had given him just enough energy to make it down the attic ladder, down the staircase, and over to the living room couch, where he unceremoniously collapsed.
He was smiling though. Waving us away when we tried to fuss over him.
Without sex, it would take him longer to recover, but the important thing was he would recover. Without sex. Without me having sex with him. Without us together, having sex…
Head in the game, Gray. Head in the game.
Shaking off the memories of that sizzling kiss, I leaned back against Ronan’s chest and took in the scene. Most of the furniture had been overturned or destroyed, broken glass littered the once-gleaming hardwood floors, but all was quiet.
And it looked like my boys had won.
“Alvarez?” Ronan called out. “Beaumont?”
“In here,” Emilio replied, back in his human form.
We followed the sound of his voice to the kitchen where not so long ago, Norah had fixed me a cup of hot tea.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Just like the rest of the first floor, the kitchen was torn apart, an explosion of dishes and drawers and silverware and tea towels covering every flat surface, but one vampire remained upright in the chaos, chained to a wooden chair and guarded by two of the fiercest, most frightening, most beautiful men I’d ever seen.
Whatever wounds Darius might’ve suffered, he’d already healed. Emilio was a little roughed up, but he was in good shape overall, dressed in a pair of tight pink sweatpants he must’ve snagged from one of Norah’s closets.
Behind them, the decapitated bodies of five bloodsuckers lay in a heap.
I didn’t want to know where the heads had ended up.
“I see we still have a guest,” I said, unable to keep the smile from my face. I was just so happy to see them, to know that they’d survived. That we’d all survived.
The vampire turned his head toward me and sneered. He was bloody and broken, but his gray eyes radiated pure evil.
My gut twisted.
Clayton Hollis. My old friend.
“Miss me, sexy?”
Darius grabbed a fistful of his hair, wrenching he head in the opposite direction. “You don’t look at her. You don’t speak to her. You don’t foul the air she breathes. Understood?”
“Fuck you, Beaumont.” He spat, spraying Darius’s dark blue shirt with blood. “I should’ve filleted that bitch when I had the chance. Slowly.”
Darius and Emilio exchanged a glance. Darius nodded. Emilio headed out the back door toward the grill area.
Moments later, he returned with a bottle of lighter fluid.
“What the fuck?” Hollis shouted. “Are you fucking crazy?”
Darius grabbed the bottle and uncapped it, then squirted it all over Hollis’s clothes. His hair. His face.
Then he retrieved a box of wooden matches from a shelf near the stove and lit one, holding it close.
“I didn’t kill those witches!” Hollis shouted. “I’m telling you, you got the wrong guy! Jesus fucking Christ, Beaumont!”
“But you know who did,” Ronan said. “You wouldn’t be at the coven headquarters otherwise.”
“Come on, man,” Hollis whined, finally losing some of his bluster. “I’m dead if I talk.”
“You’re dead either way,” Darius said. “But you can decide whether you want that death to be quick and painless, or… something else.”
His match went out. He lit another.
Growling in frustration, Hollis flexed hard against his chains, but he was out of options.
“Talk,” Emilio said, and Hollis finally caved.
“Couple weeks back, some human showed up—out-of-towner, seemed pretty low on the food chain. I heard he was lookin’ for some dirt on local witches in exchange for cash.”
“Let me guess,” Darius said. “You offered your services?”
“They said he was already getting some good leads—lots of witches in this town. But just so happened I’d seen a bit of that real hoodoo-voodoo, abracadabra shit right outside Black Ruby the night before.”
I felt the ice of Hollis’s glare as he turned toward me, the viciousness still lingering in his one eye.
“So I named my price,” he said. “Told him what I knew and collected my pay.”
My stomach flipped as I realized what his confession meant. I’d been so certain no one else had seen me in the alley that night, but he’d witnessed the whole thing.
It also meant that Hollis had recognized me at the bar inside Black Ruby the next night when he’d harassed me with his emo friend. He was screwing with me. By that point, he’d already signed my death warrant.
Only, it hadn’t turned out to be my warrant at all. It was Sophie’s.
I didn’t need dark magic to fuel my rage now. Without thinking, I lunged for him, ready to tear him apart, limb from limb.
But Ronan’s arm hooked around my waist, hauling me back before I could even make a scratch.
“Not yet,” he said, holding me tight. “We need more information.”
The solid, familiar warmth of Ronan’s chest against my back calmed me, and I took a deep, steadying breath, nodding for Darius to continue his interrogation.
“So you sold her out?” Darius asked.
Hollis cracked a smile. “We all gotta eat, brother.”
Darius cuffed the back of his head. “I’m not your brother, you filth. Keep talking. How’d he find her?”
