by Michele Hauf
Another sip of tea went down the wrong way, and Certainly managed to croak out, “Thanks a lot.”
“It’s true. But I can’t seem to stay away from you.” She took his left hand and stroked a fingertip over the tattoos on the back of it. “You’re everything I never thought I’d want. When you look at me like that over the rim of your teacup, I want to tear away my clothes and let you stare as long as you like. I’m normally pretty controlled around men. You bring out the vixen in me.”
“Tear away. I’ll look as long as you want me to.”
She fingered the neckline of her dress, her long black lashes dusting the air as she apparently considered doing some clothing removal. He wasn’t even close to coming down from the incredible sexual high they’d shared, and if she wanted to go round two, he was right there, hard and ready for action.
But she shook her head and stood up from the table, her skirt shrugging down to hide her sexy gams. “Is there a bathroom down here?”
He gestured to the left, and she walked out. That was either the quickest fall from arousal, or she needed a few minutes alone. Some kind of woman thing. He hoped.
He was dreadfully out of practice with women, but she had seemed to enjoy his fumblings.
Tilting down the remainder of the tea, he eased the front of his jeans down to make room for the hard-on that would not soften, he felt sure, until long after he’d parted from Vika’s company. Might have to rush home for a long shower.
He gathered the grimoires they’d shoved aside during their heated coupling. A page had been torn, and he cursed his carelessness. These texts were ancient. Great care must be taken with them.
The title of the spell on the page read Seducing Demons from the Body.
If the universe wasn’t knocking him over the noggin, he’d guess he and Vika had an innate magic when together and had conjured this spell to the surface. Either way... “I can dig it.”
He read through the ingredients, of which there were only two: a man and a woman (one must be possessed by a demon), as well as the usual accoutrements: candles, athame, herbs, blood. If he understood the gist of the Latin spell, it seemed to work in reverse of a demon summoning normally performed by a familiar and his or her assistant. Having sex would open the one possessed by a demon and allow his partner to conjure that demon forth and cast it to the demonic realm—but only after having sex with said demon.
“So simple as that?”
Yet it involved sex. Only then could the body release the incorporeal demon from within. And then to have sex with that demon to lure it toward final release?
“Trickiest means to an exorcism I’ve ever heard of.” He wasn’t so sure about allowing one of his demons the rein to have sex with Vika.
Would Vika approve? He’d had almost sex with her. She had been willing, unflinching and receptive. But they hadn’t gone all the way, and he suspected if he suggested sex as a demon-exorcising skill it would spoil the mood and make the experience suck.
“Not for the first time. But maybe the second?” He folded the spell, and when Vika returned at that moment and asked what it was, he said, “A recipe for preserving mouse hearts. Could come in handy. You okay?”
She’d tidied her hair and adjusted her dress. Almost as pristine as when she’d arrived, but he knew beneath the surface the woman was a wild tangle.
“Yes. But I got a cleanup call while we were...entangled. They left a text. I have to leave. It’s faery related, which is always disturbingly weird and requires immediate attention to keep the evidence from mortal discovery. Once that faery dust hits the ether, strange things start to happen, trust me.”
“Of course. I think I’m going to hang around here, page through a few more grimoires.”
“It’s getting late. Shouldn’t you get home before dark?”
“The Metro station is just outside the door, and it stops right across the street from my building. A completely lighted journey home. I’ll be fine.” He kissed her, tasting the sweetness of cherry lip gloss she must have just put on. “You could come over after the cleanup if you like. I’ll cook for you.”
“Between you and Libby cooking for me, I’m a very spoiled girl. I’ll see you then.” She spread her palm over his heart and nodded, as if deciding that yes, he was okay, and then kissed him quickly on the mouth and sidled off without so much as looking back.
“The Queen of Subtle Indifference,” he decided. “So interesting, that witch.”
* * *
Certainly ran through the rain blasting the world with cold, hard droplets. Though the Metro stairs were literally across the street from his building, his clothing was soaked by the time he landed in the lobby and nodded to the doorman, who informed him the electricity in the building had gone out. Not an uncommon occurrence during storms. The electrical wiring in the building dated to the early twentieth century.
“Thanks, Jacques. Good thing I take the stairs, eh?”
“Power should return in an hour or two,” the doorman called after him.
Also a good thing he had a generator. But first, he had to make it to his front door via the dark staircase. This was not going to be easy.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Certainly was already beginning to feel the stirrings inside as his passengers awakened to the darkness they fed upon as if ravenous beasts. It took him less than thirty seconds to make six floors—and not a moment too soon.
A growl escaped unbidden as he opened his front door and rushed inside.
To darkness.
“The generator?” He dashed into the hallway and to the roof access doorway. Inside, his muscles clenched and he fought against the demon that sought to control him. Through sheets of rain, he spied the smoking generator. “What happened?”
Had it been struck by lightning? It looked okay. No burn marks on the metal cabinet. He pulled the ignition cord, and the motor sputtered. It had to work when wet. It had before.
Lightning slashed the sky and frightened the emerging demon so that Certainly felt the actual cringe within his body. From the rooftop, he scanned the streets below. A neon sign flickered three blocks away. The entire neighborhood was dark.
With renewed urgency, the demon thrummed through his veins, pulsing to the fore. Bent double, CJ fell to his knees. “Who is it this time, damn it!”
A throaty chuckle spit out raindrops. “Hungry for some pain?”
* * *
Vika dropped Libby off at the witches bazaar and told her to be careful of the weather on the way home. The worst had passed; she could feel it in her bones. But that had been some crazy lightning earlier. Must have taken out power in parts of the city, for they’d driven some streets dark for the lacking streetlights.
Since she was close to Certainly’s home, she decided to abandon caution and go for it. She’d been abandoning more than caution when around the man. This afternoon in the archives had been—scandalous. Sexually, it had rocked her world. The instant connection they had developed was downright combustible. And mercy, but she wasn’t wearing any panties now due to her quick change before heading out to the cleaning job. She wondered if the dark witch would be up for round two.
“I know he will be.”
And yet, reluctance twanged deep in her gut. It was evening. Dark and rainy. She knew she had no reason to fear. His home was well lit with the prismatic light required to keep back his demons.
That still didn’t erase the unease clinging to her skin.
She found a parking spot down the street from CJ’s building and decided a walk in the sprinkling rain wouldn’t make her hair any less appealing than it already was. Tugging off the Tyvek shoe covers and stashing them in the back of the hearse, she made a note not to forget the bag of faery dust they’d swept up. It must be returned to Faery unless she wished to risk mischief and malice. Vika didn’t like dealing with the sidhe, so she would contact a freelance liaison she regularly hired for jobs such as this.
The concierge in the lobby tipped his hat to
her and informed her the electricity was out and she’d have to take the stairs. He offered her a flashlight, and she accepted it while her heart sank to her gut.
Taking the stairs, she could not anticipate what she would find on the sixth floor. No electricity meant no light. But CJ had said he had a backup generator.
“Whew.” Allowing her nerves to get the better of her was so out of character.
Quickening her steps she made the top floor, but she didn’t try CJ’s door when she saw the roof door open and swinging from the breeze blowing down from above.
She listened before taking the three steps up to the roof, clinging to the slick iron railing. The rain had picked up again and it poured over her shoulders, soaking the thin white T-shirt she wore above skinny black jeans. Shivering against the heavy droplets, she ventured across the pebbled roof, her flat heels finding slippery purchase. A few tin vents jutted up. The stairwell was bricked in so she walked around it, expecting to find the generator on the other side.
Vika walked around the brick wall and spied a dark stream of water. It trickled over her shoes, and she saw it was blood. “Certainly?”
“Heh, heh, heh.” He sat against the wall, a serrated piece of metal in hand. His arm bled from inner elbow to the wrist, and at sight of her he smiled a macabre grin before banging the back of his head hard against the brick wall behind him.
“What happened?” She lunged before him and CJ growled, setting her back and stumbling away. Red eyes. Not CJ. A demon controlled him. Had it forced him to draw the metal down his arm? “Let me have that, please?”
CJ viciously slashed it toward her, and she avoided getting cut only by dodging and landing hard on her elbow. Throaty coos of pleasure sickened the demon’s laughter. He slammed his fist against the wall and dragged his knuckles slowly, peeling away the flesh.
“Stop it! You’re hurting him.”
“And so I must,” the demon growled. “It feels so good, yes? Ah, delicious pain.”
“Pain,” she muttered, wincing that this man must be tortured by something so hideous.
“Torn flesh is orgasmic,” he intoned as if in the throes of wicked pleasure. “Come closer, red witch. Me want to share the witch’s pain with you.”
“If you kill him, then what will you do? No one to torture with your sick games.”
“Me won’t kill him. He’s a healing spell tattooed here.” The demon snapped out Certainly’s arm, displaying the bloodied tattoo on his biceps, the shirtsleeve torn away from the shoulder seam. “He used me to get to Daemonia. Now I shall use him well.”
“What does that mean? He used you?”
“Pain inflicted upon others.”
The demon cackled and slammed the metal piece across CJ’s leg, cutting through the heavy jean fabric. CJ’s body reacted, stiffening, and he howled, but the cry was accompanied by the demon’s macabre smile.
He felt everything, Vika knew, but could only witness, not control.
“Blood must be shed to enter the place of all demons,” Pain said. “This dark witch shed much.” He leaned forward, his wet hair hanging like black oil across his face. “You don’t think the vampire goes painlessly with the stake, eh?”
“Of course not, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Certainly would never harm—” Vampires? Staked? Had CJ—
The demon’s laughter exploded, as did CJ. He leaped up, hooked an arm in Vika’s and swung her about, then pushed. She tumbled toward the stairwell, yet grasped the railing before soaring headfirst down the steps.
He lifted her as if she were but a doll and kicked open the roof door.
Vika grabbed the iron rail and managed to hold long enough to tug the demon off balance. He clattered down the stairs, releasing her to fall onto the top step. The demon cursed her and scrambled up behind her. This time he tossed her over a shoulder.
“Slippery little witch. Let’s try the next stairs together. Your bones can break my fall, and my fall will break your bones!”
Through the inky darkness, he charged toward the stairway. His boots slipped from the wetness, and he stumbled, slamming them both against the wall at the head of the stairs.
Vika kicked—clutching the nail at her neck—and connected her heel with the back of his knee, and found her freedom. She grabbed the doorknob to his home and said blessings it was open. Inside, she dashed toward the center of the loft. All was dark. The crystals tittered with her frantic movement. There would be no safety here unless the electricity returned.
But there were the sigils placed on the walls, floor and counters by the protection demon. She raced to a wall where a red spray-painted sigil depicted something she couldn’t translate. What the hell did it protect?
The pain demon tracked the dark room with Certainly’s eyes, sniffing, clutching the air with his fingers in anticipation of finding her. He could use only the witch’s senses, and those were not as heightened as those of a corporeal demon who could assume his own form in this realm.
Suddenly the lights flickered. Vika slammed against the fridge, searching the constellation above. It had been only a flicker.
“Lumos!” she tried. Stretching out her fingers to connect with the latent electricity in the air, she scoured the ether.
Nothing.
She couldn’t see CJ or hear his demonic passenger lurking, but he must be close. Despite the floor-to-ceiling windows, the loft was dark. It clattered with crystals that shivered as if as fearful as she felt right now.
Stupid to have come up here after the concierge had told her the electricity was out.
“Asking for trouble,” she muttered, and made her way along the kitchen counter. Her fingers glided before the knife stand. She considered arming herself but decided the demon would have the weapon out of her hand and to her throat in but a blink. She had a more powerful weapon.
Whispering a command and forcing her earth magic through her fingers, she sent a stream of phosphorescence before her. It whipped through the loft, snaking below the chandeliers and illuminating, if but for a moment, its surroundings.
Her jaw snapped shut and her chin tilted up. He held her from behind, painfully wrenching her head. “Sneaky,” the demon growled. “Let’s take that magic to the streets. This dark witch won’t let me tap into his magic. He’s strong. But I know his bitch isn’t as strong. Come on.”
An arm about her neck, he tugged her from the kitchen. Vika would not go peacefully. She dropped her body weight, forcing the demon to drag her. And she grabbed for everything they passed, clutching a stool and slowing his progress.
“I like you, red one. You’re a fighter! You’ll bring lovely chaos to the streets of Paris.”
“You’ll never make it to the streets!” she yelled, finding her anger gave her strength and determination.
As he dragged her over the threshold, she gripped the door frame with both hands and strained to keep hold. She shouted, “Harrahya xum!” A spell to focus her power.
That repulsed the demon and sent him stumbling toward the stairway. He gripped for the wall, his fingers sliding, and Vika winced. If he fell, it would be CJ’s body that took the damage, and she didn’t want that.
Sending out her air magic, she swept it around and behind the demon, teetering him on balance as one of CJ’s boots slipped off the step. He fell forward, landing on his palms. Flipping back his hair, he grinned menacingly and crawled toward her, red eyes narrowed.
The lights flickered again. Vika shouted, “Lumos!”
Inside the loft, all the chandeliers lighted. And stayed lit.
She scrambled across the threshold just as CJ grabbed her about the ankle. Out in the hallway the bright lights flickered on. The demon howled and let go of her. Shuffling beneath the safety of the prismatic lights, Vika waited to see what would appear around the corner.
CJ’s hand slapped the threshold and clawed to drag his body forward. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Vika’s heart fell. “CJ?”
“I’m back.�
�� He crawled over the threshold. His fingers bled, as did the cuts on his face and his biceps. Reaching her, he looked her over, his hand sweeping up her body and to her face, where his shaking fingers barely touched her. “Mon Dieu, did I hurt you? Please forgive me.”
She grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek, feeling shivers overwhelm her now she knew safety. Cold and wet, her heartbeats pounded. “Hell, CJ, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
He dipped his head to her lap and wept.
Chapter 10
“You’re shivering,” CJ said to Vika.
He tugged off his shirt, which clung to his body and felt like a dirty shroud after being controlled by the pain demon. His blood soaked the shirt and his pants, but thanks to numerous healing spell tattoos on his body, his wounds were already scarred.
“Take off your clothes and I’ll put them in the dryer. I’ll get a blanket.”
He went to the closet behind his bed, leaving Vika to disrobe, if she would. He wanted to step away from her for a few moments to give her some space. He’d tossed her around like a ragdoll—Pain had. He wouldn’t blame her if she turned and ran from here and never returned. He hated he couldn’t control the demon from within, though he had been able to hold on to his magic. If the demon had gotten its mind over that, nothing would have been safe.
And had he almost pushed Vika down the stairs? He slammed his forehead against the closet door frame, cursing himself. Because it was his fault. He was the one who had purposefully journeyed to Daemonia and had brought back the means to torment Vika.
Grabbing a folded blanket from the shelf, he turned to find a wet witch standing right behind him, her sodden clothes in hand and her lips shivering. She wore a bra and held her clothes before her bare loins, and looked like a drowned kitten.
He couldn’t dream to look at her in a sexual manner. Instead, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and hugged her against him. “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t say anything. He felt her cold lips touch against his collarbone.
“Slip your underthings off and I’ll have them dried in a bit. I’ll make hot tea. Can you forgive me, Vika?”
