“Impressive, Octavia. Impressive,” he mumbled pulling the mantel back until there was enough space to allow his entry.
Though the passage was pitch black, his nocturnal eyes adjusted with ease until he made out a long, narrow passage leading to God only knew where.
He figured it best to get Beth before continuing and turned to yell for her when the wall behind him began moving until the doorway once again closed.
Now he had no choice but to continue along the corridor to wherever he ended up. Beth would discover his disappearance and seek Damien and Grace. One of the trio would realize what had happened. Would figure out he must have run across a passage such as this. Moss wondered if Damien had forgotten about it, or conveniently kept the information from them.
His unease about Damien skittered back. Had Damien truly gotten past his fixation with Octavia? The man had come forward and denounced his former lover, but his announcement at such, came while he’d been in front of Beth. Had it all been for show? Later, Grace had entered the picture and Moss knew beyond doubt the man wanted Grace. Damien’s pheromones shot off the charts each time Grace came near him. Not to mention the times he’d caught Damien having to adjust himself. The man’s raging hard-on was obviously quite uncomfortable. But his desire for Grace didn’t prove his innocence.
Continuing down the dank, dusty, narrow corridor, he couldn’t shake the distinct feeling of being watched, and his predatorily impulses peaked. He realized he was headed straight for a trap, but he had no way around it with nowhere to go except forward.
Silvery threads from the abundance of low-lying cobwebs wove themselves through his hair, and more than once the tickle of spider legs moved across his neck.
Fucking hate spiders.
A sulfuric scent burned his nose, clouding all other scents. He slowed his pace, crouching low, ready for an attack. Octavia was up to something. Only she would understand how strong his sense of smell was and know sulfur would mask his ability to smell potential danger.
Damn the old witch to hell.
He began to make out a glow in the distance, and other senses kicked in, screaming warnings. As the shadow forms became a tad more solid, he sprang back, but not quickly enough.
The three entities had him pinned and chained on the ancient floor before the last of his reptilian shift occurred.
• • •
“You’ve been rather lost in thought. Is everything okay?” Grace asked Damien, missing the warm warrior she’d grown fond of.
“No problems here,” Damien bit out gruffly.
“You seemed a bit quiet, is all,” Grace offered.
“Not quiet, observant.”
She nodded, though she suspected his withdrawal stemmed from more than his being observant. Something had changed, but his one- and two-word answers proved he had absolutely no intentions of sharing what.
She followed the sudden jerk of his head, looking for whatever had caught his attention. Watched as he sniffed the air and seemed to bristle in response to what he scented. Nothing out of the ordinary came into sight, but she knew enough about Damien to believe his hackles didn’t rise over nothing. They were no longer alone, and Damien was fully aware of this.
“What do you see?” she whispered.
“Nothing yet, but someone’s watching us, and their scent is odd.”
“Their scent?”
“Yes. You know I’m different. Where Moss has reptilian qualities, I have those of the armadillo. One of those differences is an acute sense of smell,” he stated almost defensive, as if he thought her to be accusing him of something.
Oh, Grace thought, the armor up, old chap comment Moss had made back in the cave made sense now. “Didn’t doubt you for a minute, but what should we do?”
“Go and warn the others.” Again, his tone and demeanor seemed chilly.
Grace paused. He was off, and she needed to find out the reason for his sudden change. He might be a danger to them all right now. He may very well be their enemy.
“Go,” he all but barked as his eyes took on an ominous appearance.
Deciding the best option was to go ahead and alert the others to the possible monkey — err — armadillo wrench in their plans, she took off to warn Beth. With her back to Damien, Grace couldn’t help but feel like the hounds from hell rode her heels.
She went sailing through the front door, slamming the rickety thing with more force than intended and took a few deep, safe breaths. Her back against the door, she gave her very human eyes a minute to adjust to the dim interior.
Once they had, she was aghast at what was before her.
• • •
Livid he’d fallen for such an age-old trap, Moss struggled against the chains binding his arms. He’d been drawn up tight against the cave’s wall, but struggling was useless short of making a clamor and cutting his wrists. He’d go nowhere any time soon. His shirt had been removed, as had his boots. He was thankful he’d at least been left with his pants, or what was left of them. After the near strip search, they were ripped in areas and sagging in others. What had pleased him even less had been where Octavia’s eyes kept drifting. Her minions snickering as she lowered her gaze to the golden swatch of hair on his belly and lower still, until settling on his cock.
“You thought you’d just up and walk away, did you?” She ran her fingers, nails polished black, down his abdomen.
“That was the plan.”
“Cocky boy. You thought what? I’d let you just whisk the slut off into the sunset and live happily ever after? Really, Moss, I’m surprised at you.” Octavia all but purred as she fingered the outline of his flaccid member. If she anticipated getting a rise out of him, she’d be sorely disappointed.
“What I may or may not have thought is none of your damned concern. I will no longer be your lackey, Octavia. This ends now.” Moss sneered.
“Well, someone ate their Wheaties this morning, didn’t they?” She laughed. A true, mad, evil laugh, and nothing could have pissed him off more at the moment.
“Oh, did I bruise your tender male ego? Poor dear, I do tend to forget how sensitive you men can be.”
Moss made out the three faint, shadowy shapes behind her in each corner of the room. Whoever or whatever they were, they stood motionless and cast no recognizable scent. That alone alarmed him more than any other shit she pulled.
“What evil things have you called upon now?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, batting her eyelids in coy fashion.
“Playing stupid isn’t becoming of you. Who are your newest lackeys? The ones hiding behind you?”
Octavia whirled around toward the closest shadow being. Once she’d reached him, she ran her palm over his abdomen, tracing around his entire middle until she reached his back. Then from behind him she toyed with his nipples, and no matter what she did, Moss noted the wavery figure never moved a muscle. Her hands continued to the bulge standing front and center, visible as darker than the rest of him, and stroked him with methodical intent.
Like one of the Queen’s guards, the figure stood like a stone statue. She continued her seductive touches until she came to stand before him, and reached up and pulled his mouth to hers. Again, he knew the creature’s mouth, as it was darker than the rest of him. The entity bent to her commands, his mouth locking with hers as a slight suction sound began. Only then did the entity’s hands move of their own accord.
Moss continued watching in fascinated horror as Octavia seemed suddenly engulfed by this creature. Her body became more mist than flesh, as did the entity’s. It was as if their bodies merged into one. Wisps of light and dark blended, circling like a tornado. The whirling grew more frenzied as small bursts of orange light shot from the center of the mass, growing until the dark became a deep shade of red.
&nb
sp; So captured by the horror before him, he failed to notice another shadow sliding across the wall. Another witness to the mayhem about to erupt.
• • •
Beth stood in the center of the room, her pallor beyond white, her pulse all but gone.
“For the love of God, what in the hell happened, baby?” Grace didn’t expect Beth to answer, as she suspected her niece was in the throes of a dark spell. The magic that encompassed the room was near suffocating as she smothered Beth with a healing spell. She needed to get Beth out of the cabin ASAP, before reversing the spell’s poison became too dangerous to attempt. The longer some spells were present, the lower the likelihood anyone other than the one who cast it could remove it. She’d be damned if she’d lose Beth forever to a coma-like state until she literally withered to death.
Grace tried pulling her, but no matter how hard she tried, Beth remained anchored to the wooden floor. With each failed attempt, Grace grew more frantic. Beth’s pulse became thready and weak as the spell continued to ravage her body. Damien feared a battle forthcoming outside, but she needed him, and now. She prayed whatever he’d sensed was long gone, or that he’d been wrong about it. Getting Beth out was now her top priority.
“Damien!” she screamed so loud her lungs burned. “Please, Damien. Beth’s dying.”
His silence worried her. Had he left? Had the change of heart she’d worried about caused him to switch sides? Grace hadn’t long to worry — heavy, pounding footsteps shook the cabin floors as Damien barreled through the door.
“Outside.” Tears loomed in the corners of her eyes. “We have to get her outside this cabin if we’ve any hope of saving her.” As much as she wanted to break at the prospect of losing Beth, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She refused to let her niece down.
Damien omitted a few grunts and huffs but managed to break Beth free from the magical hold. He slung her over his shoulder and all but lunged for the door.
Once outside the magical coffin Octavia called a cabin, Grace began her work. After a good length of time, Beth’s color flooded back into her cheeks, then her body. Moments after, Beth sat up ramrod straight and slung obscenities at the coward who refused to fight face-to-face.
“Shush, now. You’ll get yours, but right now we need to exercise patience and caution,” Grace urged.
“Where the hell was Moss when you got attacked?” Damien seethed.
She opened her mouth to answer, but realized she hadn’t a clue. The spell cast upon her had been silent, but wouldn’t he have least heard the chaos of her being hauled outside? Of Grace screaming for Damien? Even in her induced coma state, she’d heard Grace’s scream. She hadn’t been able to respond, but she’d been conscious of everything throughout the event. She started toward the cabin but a vise-like grip wrapped around her forearm, jerking her to a stop.
“What?” she squawked.
“You almost died and you’re going back in? I don’t think so. You two stay out here. I’ll go search the place,” Damien told her.
“Actually, that’s not a bright idea either,” Grace protested. “You aren’t immune to Octavia’s craft, either. We’ll go together. After the invisible assault on Beth, I think staying together is our best option right now.”
“Agreed,” both Beth and Damien answered simultaneously.
After a thorough search turned up an empty cabin, Beth’s stomach began to roll.
“So where the hell did he go?” Damien asked to neither in particular.
“Damn good question if you ask me,” Grace replied, knowing Beth had been concerned about Damien’s loyalties and now feared she’d worried about the wrong man.
“He went into Octavia’s room and I guess vanished. Poof — gone.” Beth all but bit her tongue to keep from adding her fear she’d been played after all. Maybe he’d had a change of heart. Moss had been with Octavia a long time. Had she threatened him? Either way, shit didn’t add up. The hostility in his voice each time he spoke Octavia’s name left her leaning toward a threat, but he had acted off back at the cabin earlier that day. When he’d stormed off claiming to need some quiet time. What if that had been a ruse and he’d gone off to forewarn Octavia?
She and Grace watched as Damien slowly circled the room, rather like an Indian tracking something. His posture was stiff and guarded, on high alert.
“Damien, what do you detect?” Curious, Grace began following his movements. He seemed to be testing the floorboards.
“I believe there to be a hidden passage. She’s too paranoid to ever leave herself caged in. She would have an escape route.”
“You bet she would. Half the damn swamp probably wants to make kibble out of her. But … ”
Both turned when Beth trailed off, the elephant in the room heavy and suffocating. Did Moss use the possible escape willingly or unwillingly? The situation was grave for both men, as their lives hung in the balance from the battle’s outcome.
“There’s far too much on the table to speculative. Let’s just find this hidden route, kill the old bitch, find Moss, and get our answers.” Grace picked up her pace, tapping on walls and floors as she tried to listen for any hollow sound. The others followed suit until finally Damien stumbled upon the loose board.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Grace sputtered, peering into the blackened passageway.
“I’m sure she’s booby-trapped it in anticipation of intruders.” Damien advised as he investigated the surrounding area.
“I’m prepared.” Again stunning everyone, Grace began to glow. Not a full-on glow, but rather an effervescent sparkle. “What?”
“Nothing,” Beth and Damien answered in unison.
Oh, yeah, she and Grace were long overdue for a serious powwow. Apparently her family had far more than a few skeletons skulking about.
Though this new disclosure was great timing, Beth snatched the heavy brass candlestick off the mantel as they entered. Damien had his armor and superior strength, her aunt had who-knew-what powers, and Beth had a candlestick.
Wow, odd duck out sucks ass.
• • •
Moss awoke with his head about to burst like a melon and the vague memory of Octavia’s odd merging with the unknown entity. He still wasn’t sure where he was. This cave was new to him, and he was familiar with almost every inch of the swamp.
“So you’re awake again.”
The male voice was unfamiliar. He squinted to make out the hazy form lingering in the shadows.
“Who are you?” he croaked, fighting back the bile rising from the excruciating pain radiating through his head.
“It isn’t so much who I am as what I am. But you have a right to be curious, though I should remind you, curiosity killed the cat.”
“Good thing I’m not a pussy then.” He took in the guy’s weaselly appearance. Dark greasy hair, no more than about five-foot nine, and soaking wet he couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and fifty pounds.
“Brave, are we?” the man said.
“Tired of playing charades. So who — excuse me, what — are you?”
“Powerful, deadly, and Octavia’s true heir. I’m tired of my mother’s uh … dalliances. It’s gone from embarrassing to a nuisance encroaching on dangerous to, ah, certain friends.”
“Is your mother aware you still play with imaginary friends?”
His quip earned him the bite of knuckles. On a scale of hard knocks it barely ranked, but coupled with his raging headache it nearly rendered him unconscious.
“Head hurt?”
“Not from that love tap.” Yeah, another strike, but the attacks were causing his adrenaline to rise, aiding in clearing his mind from whatever drug they’d slipped him. His reptile side slithered to the surface and for the first real time he could recall, he embraced this other side. Encouraged it forth.
“S
o clearly you’ve got some mommy issues. What? She wasn’t soothing enough? Loving enough? No? How could she be when she was too busy out spreading her love with all of us? Must have been a real bitch growing up. Literally.”
Bam — more knuckles.
“So brave now, but with mother dearest out of the way, I wonder how long you continue.”
Moss’s threat was empty. The hate between Octavia and son simmered, ready to boil over, fierce enough the man’s judgment was seriously off kilter, which suited Moss fine. It would be easier to take the ass out. Had the son taken out his mother first, then gone after each of her creations one at a time, he might have succeeded. Instead, he gathered her creatures out of spite — not an optimal situation. What this whiny-ass brat didn’t realize was that although he and Damien had no issues with his offing mommy, there’d no doubt be creatures that would. Who would be ready to fight to the death for her.
“Never realized the boy she spoke of would turn out to be as whiny as she claimed,” Moss prodded.
“Nice try, but my mother would have never admitted to having a son.”
“Wrong. She did, after a good romping. I’d asked about children, noticing those wicked little scars on her stomach. She explained her hell-spawn created them. I’m not sure which she claimed more disgust over. The stretchmarks, or you. Speaking of, other than as ‘her biggest regret’ she never mentioned your name. Feel free not to tell me. I can always use one of the other more colorful names she called you. Regret, weakling … ”
Crack.
“You will address me as master, because that’s what I’ll be as soon I take charge. Her fondness for men is to be her downfall. She was far too soft on you all, but that is about to change. You will be in my control and will do my bidding.”
“Oh, I get it now. Baby boy can’t get his own homeboy to play with, so you need to steal your mother’s. Perfectly clear now.”
Whack.
Though the imbecile’s strikes lacked any serious strength, they did get on his nerves.
• • •
With Damien leading and Grace at her rear, Beth had a false sense of security. She wisely ignored that sense, having learned the hard way a time or two. Octavia would anticipate their arrival, but the uncertainty about Moss unsettled her more than what hid in the dark. He’d grieved all those years over the loss of his wife and the children; of this, she was positive. Had he decided to confront Octavia on his own? Did he doubt her word that Octavia was behind it all?
Swamp Magic (Crimson Romance) Page 14
