The Witch's Kiss

by Tricia Schneider

  His heart continued to thunder as he stared at the approaching creature. The reality of the situation hit him.

  He wasn’t dead.

  Nor was Marianne.

  The curse was lifted.

  He’d broken the spell cast over her. He did it. Not Fernsby. That could only mean one thing…

  He was Marianne’s beloved.

  At a moment when he should have felt such joy, fear coursed through his veins as the demon approached.

  She crept closer, her attention narrowing on Sage.

  “You’ve been practicing new magic. I can smell it on you. Since you’ve taken my prize from me, my dear sweet Sage, I suppose I’ll take you back with me instead. I did so enjoy our time together.”

  She grinned and attacked.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It wasn’t a dream!

  Marianne had no time to discover just how her spirit managed to get pulled back into her corporeal form. The demon advanced on Sage, its face twisting in rage.

  Marianne took a stance beside him, ready to assist with whatever magic ability she possessed.

  “Get back, Marianne,” Sage ordered when he noticed her step forward.

  “I can help.” She hoped. Swallowing hard passed the lump in her throat, she wondered if she had any magic ability left. She wouldn’t know until she cast if there were any lasting effects from the spell. It had nearly been a year, after all, since she had cast a proper spell. Would the time spent outside her body have done any damage?

  “Fool,” the demon growled. “You cannot stop me!”

  It threw its power against them. Sage blocked it, then cast a spell against it. As before, his magic turned to flame. The fire poured onto the demon.

  She laughed. “That tickles.”

  Marianne took a moment to cast an attack spell, pushing it forward into the demon’s chest with all of her might. The demon barely noticed. Instead of falling back as Marianne had hoped, it turned to her instead. The demon’s image shimmered, and suddenly she was looking at her father.

  “My pet,” he said. “Why would you hurt me?”

  “Papa?”

  “She’s a chameleon, Marianne. That’s not your father,” Sage said, as he cast another spell. Marianne watched her father flinch as the fire from Sage’s spell burned him. He fell back, his hands raised to protect his face. He screamed.

  Terror squeezed Marianne’s chest. She reacted instinctively, stepping forward to protect him. Was it her father? Perhaps the demon held him captive? Perhaps he wasn’t dead?

  “No, Marianne,” Sage said, pulling her back before she could walk into the flame’s path. “It can take the form of any it chooses. Marianne, look at its eyes. It’s not your father.”

  That’s when she recognized the red glow coming from her father’s eyes. She hadn’t seen it before. The demon must have masked it in some way.

  She whimpered in renewed grief. That barely held hope her father yet lived was crushed.

  The demon, still molded in her father’s image, straightened and laughed. “If I had been thinking, I should have come to you in the church as this. Yes, this would have done nicely.” And the demon’s image shifted again. This time, it was Sage looking at her. A perfect replica…the same dark hair, body, face. Everything. Except for the eyes. They glowed red. “Since your spirit is now reunited with your body, I cannot claim you. But I’ll have my Sage. Yes, Sage and I will have fun together.”

  “No,” Marianne said, then raised her hands to prepare another attack spell. “I love him! With all my heart I love him, and you will never touch him again!” She flung the spell. Surprisingly, the impact sent the demon back a step.

  Sage looked at Marianne. “You love me?”

  “Yes, you twit!” Marianne shouted, focusing on the demon as it shrugged off the spell and advanced.

  Sage stepped in front of her, shielding her. Then he swung at the copy of himself, landing a solid punch to the jaw. The demon repeated Sage’s move, only when it connected with Sage’s jaw, Sage was flung into the air. He hit the wall hard, his head smashing into a portrait hung there. When he slid to the floor, he slumped forward and did not move.

  Marianne gasped.

  Was he dead?

  The urge to run to his side compelled her to take a step forward, but the demon stepped between them.

  Marianne’s foot bumped against a forgotten object on the floor. She stooped to pick it up. It was the dagger Sage had been holding when she awoke on the bed. The question of what he was doing with it tickled her consciousness, but she pushed it aside. Now was not the time.

  “And what do you think to do with that?” the demon asked, Sage’s face smiling with derision back at her.

  Marianne didn’t speak. She flung the dagger into the demon’s face. It struck one fiery eye, embedding the blade deep into the flesh. The demon fell back, screaming. Its image flickered, and again it was the woman with dark hair.

  Marianne ran to where Sage lay on the floor, kneeling beside him to check if his chest rose and fell. It did. Then she looked back to watch the demon pull the protruding dagger from its face. Blood gushed from the wound, thick and black.

  The door opened at the same moment.

  Both Marianne and the demon turned to face the new intruder.

  Miss Prescott entered, her snow-white hair bundled in tiny curls atop her head. She held a cane in one hand, using it to assist her to step into the room since her one knee was crotchety. The elderly woman took in the scene, her mouth pursing into a thin line of disapproval.

  A man followed behind her. Marianne did not recognize him, but she thought his blue eyes looked oddly familiar. He was dressed elegantly, his clothes revealing his wealth. With his back rigid, he held the air of a gentleman.

  “Who has been summoning demons in my house?” Miss Prescott glanced at Sage’s slumped form on the floor. “Ah, yes, I should have suspected. Oh, Marianne. Good to see you finally awake, child.”

  “Aunt Petunia?” Sage mumbled as he blinked, then struggled to sit up. Marianne assisted him, propping him against the wall. “You! What are you doing here?” Sage struggled to stand when he saw the man enter the room behind his aunt.

  The man held his hands before him in a gesture of peace. “I mean no harm. Hello, Miss Marianne. Good to see you once more.” The gentleman smiled.

  Marianne gasped as she recognized him. He was one of the highwaymen! The one with the powder.

  “I thought you had more sense than this, Sage. Messing with demons. What were you thinking?”

  “Aunt Petunia, run. You must…”

  The demon turned to the elderly witch and growled.

  Miss Prescott’s eyes narrowed.

  The highwayman stepped around the elderly woman, pulling a pistol from inside his jacket.

  “Miss Prescott, at your convenience.”

  “Jack, you must be daft!” Miss Prescott pushed her way around the highwayman to face the demon. “Oh, begone with you and never return!” She raised her cane, waving it in the air as a wand, spoke a few words and smoke billowed around the demon. The creature growled and howled as the smoke rose like a blanket around it. Slowly the blanket grew smaller until there nothing but a wisp floating in the air. In the end, even that disappeared along with the demon’s growls.

  There was a sucking noise and a pop, then silence.

  “Melodramatic beasts,” Miss Prescott muttered, returning her cane to her side.

  “What did you…? How?” Sage stammered.

  “I’ll be honest. I was not certain that would work.” Jack, the highwayman, lowered his pistol. The stunned expression on his face might have been amusing another time.

  “I sensed the creature the moment it manifested on the grounds outside. I’ve cast a protective spell around Merriweather Manor, something to keep such nasties from our door. Sage, I’m disappointed in you, my boy. I thought you knew never to deal with demons.”

  “Auntie, I…”

  “Never you mind,�
� she interrupted. “Basil has already informed me of your predicament, and Mr. John Winters here has filled me in with some other details that I find rather shocking. Really,” she said, pausing to tap her cane on the floor. “The trouble you boys get yourselves into…It’s disgraceful. And instead of coming to your elders for assistance and advice, you rough it out and deal with it yourselves. Well, I should let you suffer this curse to teach you a lesson, but seeing as I don’t want any more demons sniffing around…”

  Again she lifted the cane as a wand, raised her other hand and summoned power. A few quick words Marianne could not decipher and a light appeared from the tip of the wand.

  The light was dim at first, but it grew brighter as Miss Prescott closed her eyes and whispered. Then she flung the light at Sage. He stiffened when the beam hit him; his eyes widened and his fingers clenched. A moment later, he collapsed.

  “Sage!”

  “He’ll be fine in a moment, my dear. His body must rid itself of the black magic that has sickened it. Demon’s curses…” Miss Prescott’s gaze softened as she looked down at him. “My poor boy…How he must have suffered.”

  Marianne nodded. She held his hand while he slept, wishing she could make him more comfortable on the floor.

  Miss Prescott waved her cane. The chair that sat across the room slid silently across the carpet. When it arrived at Sage’s side, Miss Prescott sat down.

  “What did you do with the demon? Did you kill it?” Marianne asked.

  “No, my dear. It’s quite difficult to kill a demon. This one did not have a human body to hold it permanently to our world, so I sent it back to its dark domain. But, it will never again return to Merriweather Manor. I will see to that.”

  “How did you know what to do?”

  “Jack.” Miss Prescott waved her cane at the highwayman standing next to her. “Mr. Winters arrived hours ago with a message from Drake. Jack has been helping me practice the spell to lift the curse placed on Sage. And he assisted with the protective spell we cast around Merriweather Manor. It should protect us from the more nasty creatures in this world.”

  “Do you know who summoned the demon?”

  The old woman’s lips pursed again. She nodded. “I do. And we must deal with him soon enough.”

  “And do you know what this man tried to do to us on the road?” Marianne nodded toward the highwayman.

  “My apologies, Miss Marianne.” Jack Winters stepped forward. “I’m an associate of Drake Merriweather’s. He sent me to administer that powder. He suspected it might break the curse cast upon you.”

  “He means to make amends then?”

  Mr. Winters shook his head. “Still experimenting, I’m afraid. Seeing as it was supposed to do you good, I saw no reason to deny him. I see it did indeed cure you.”

  “Not quite,” Marianne admitted. “Sage was all I needed.”

  Miss Petunia sighed. “The madness has consumed Drake. Something must be done. At least he was sensible enough to send round Jack when he lost control of the demon. Apparently it informed him of his intentions with Sage. There’s hope for our Drake, I’m certain of it.”

  Marianne might have disagreed, but Sage moaned, and his eyelids flickered. Soon he was sitting up, looking astonished at his aunt and Marianne who smiled down upon him.

  “What happened?”

  “You explain, my dear,” Miss Prescott announced, tapping her cane on the floor and moving to stand. “I believe I’ll have Charles bring some tea to the parlor. You may join me, at your convenience, of course. Come along, Jack. You can finish telling me the tale about your brother.” She smiled and quit the room, Mr. Winters at her heels.

  Sage blinked, then turned his confused stare to Marianne. The moment their gazes locked, relief flooded his face and he smiled.

  “Marianne.”

  She flung her arms around him, laughing with joy, relief and love. He held her, and she could feel the deep rumbles of laughter blossoming in his chest.

  “My Marianne,” he said, pulling her head away from his chest to hold her face in his hands. He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

  “How did you do it?” Marianne asked. “What spell did you use to wake me?”

  “Love,” Sage answered. “Marianne, I love you. As more than a friend or brother or neighbor. I love you with my soul. I’d do anything to be with you forever.”

  “Oh, Sage…”

  “I want you to promise me something, Marianne. Promise you’ll never leave me again. Promise you’ll be my wife. Promise we’ll spend the rest of our days together, good and bad. I cannot bear to be parted from you.”

  Marianne smiled, tears of happiness sparkling her eyes. “I promise.”

  And he kissed her.

  A word about the author…

  Tricia Schneider is a paranormal and gothic romance author. Before the supernatural took possession of her pen, she worked for several years in a bookstore as assistant manager and bookseller. Now she writes full-time while raising her three young children. She lives with her musician husband and two neurotic cats in the coal country of Pennsylvania.

  ~*~

  Learn more about her books at her website: http://www.triciaschneider.com.

  Thank you for purchasing

  this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.