by Kim Faulks
You’re almost there, come to me my love. Come to me.
He shook the poison from his head. “I’m not your fucking love, you bitch.”
Something white shimmered in the darkness up ahead. He blinked and still the pale blur remained. Each step was torment, seizing what had been ruptured in his middle with a thorny grip.
He focused on the white shimmer and gripped the bars, pulling more than heaving himself along the walkway to where his cell waited. He'd seen more than his fair share of other prisoners share his hellish fate.
At first, he’d reached out to them. Some were kids, just like him. But he soon came to understand their role here, as did he come to understand his own.
They weren’t his salvation. They weren’t even his companions in the dark, cold nights, and sex-fueled days.
They were to torture him.
They were here for him to grow attached, for him to form a connection, and then they were taken from him…and he never saw them again.
“How many have you kept here, you hateful bitch? How fucking many?”
I’ve lost count. But only one ever mattered. Only one was here because I had feelings for them.
“Feelings? You're incapable.” He rested his head against his arm and breathed through the blinding wave of agony. “You’re incapable because you’re not even remotely human. You never have been.”
You’re wrong, Hart. I loved you. I still do.
Love. The word ruptured more than innards and flesh. He raised his head and dragged himself closer to that pale shimmering blur that stood in his cell, and as he got closer, he could make out her features. Even in ghost form, her eyes were soulless. “I’m here. I’m here. Now give me what I want.”
The apparition held out her arms and gave him a welcoming smile. Her long black hair was silver here, flowing out around her. I have what you want, and you know what I want in return.
The words stuck in his throat, still if he knew her at all, he knew what she wanted. “You want me to give you back what I took from you.” The cell door was wide, waiting for him just like her open arms. “You want me to give you back your life.”
No, Hart. You. Give me back you. You belong to me. I knew you were special from the moment I took you.
Hate and rage spewed from him as if he was one walking, open wound. “You hurt me! You raped me! You made me into this…this…this monster. You killed anything good in my life.”
His fist closed around the bars of the open door as his knee buckled. “You killed my mother…she couldn’t live with what she saw. She couldn’t live with the man you made of me.”
Tears welled in his eyes. He turned his head and blinked them away. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Her ghost came closer. There’s nothing wrong with the man you are. You’re strong, powerful. I gave you that strength. I tempered you. Your mother was weak. She was weak…that’s why she killed herself.
Hart shook his head. He wore the truth like a brand. “She killed herself because I was a monster. I hurt people…I killed them.”
The bitch had the nerve to smile. She knew the kind of man he was—for she’d made him.
They got what they deserved, this world will be better without them. Now come to me. Let me taste you once more.
He shook his head and stayed where he was. “First the spell you promised. The spell that will kill Allendra.”
The apparition grinned and took a step closer until she could move no more. He glanced down at the markings on the concrete floor. The circle where he had trapped her for all eternity.
Still he couldn’t exorcise her from his mind.
The ghost flinched as she came to the edge of the circle. She raised her head, and whispered. It’s risky…I can make it, but not like this…I need my hands. I need my books.
He took a shallow breath. This could be a trap. She lifted her pale hand toward him. I won’t betray you, Hart. Trust me.
His fingers slipped from the steel bars of his cell. Agony mingled with desperation drove him. Kill the Creator. Kill the Mistress, and end this once and for all. He took a step.
She took a step away from the edge of the circle. Your blood, Hart. I need your blood to break this curse.
He nodded. He knew all along how to bring her to life. His blood had killed her, and now his blood would bring her back.
His hand trembled as he brought his wrist to his mouth. His fangs extended—but it was the Fae’s lips he felt as she kissed his savaged flesh. It was the Fae that stilled the pain. She stole the pain, she stole everything.
Do this for her…set her free. Do it you spineless sonofabitch.
The Mistress nodded. Yes, set me free.
She had no way of knowing it wasn’t her Hart thought of. She had no way of knowing this wasn’t just for him. Not now, not after tonight. Because of Ondine his path had been forever changed.
He opened his mouth and bit. Fangs carved flesh. His vein popped, filling his mouth with the salty taste of his own blood.
He wrenched his wrist free and cast drops of his blood into the air. They hit the ground in silence, but he felt the change in the air. Energy danced along his skin.
Wolf’s blood. The Mistress hissed and stumbled farther back into the circle. Not just any wolf…a lone wolf.
“That’s why you took me, isn’t it? Because my blood was powerful?”
Her apparition shimmered. Her lips curled, revealing ghostly teeth. Yes.
Transparent white arms darkened as she took form. An ache spread in his chest, unseen hands forced him closer to the circle…and closer to her.
She raised her head and smiled, and held open her arms. “My love.”
Her voice echoed within the walls. Wisps of white hair darkened to black and fell against her body, somewhere above a dull white light lit up the room. The pale orb floated above her, illuminating the cell with an eerie glow.
His feet moved on their own as Hart took a step, skirting the bloodied circle. Shards of agony tore through his heart. He slapped his hand to his chest.
“It’s a bitch isn’t it?” Bitter words tore from her lips.
The Mistress blurred. Hart blinked, trying to focus. The more powerful she became, the weaker he did. The ravenous power dragged him closer to the circle. One more step and he’d breach the line.
“It’s no use fighting. Blood calls to blood. Like to like. And you’re just like me, Hart. We belong together.”
He shook his head. The world spun, angling to one side. His knee hit the hard floor, driving an ache through his bones, and the rest of his body followed. He sucked in the dirt from the floor as the light dimmed.
“That’s it. Come into the circle with me. Let me tell you how much I missed you.”
An icy hand brushed his arm. He glanced down to see shimmering, black painted nails. Her touch was cold, not nearly as cold as her heart. Goosebumps raced across his skin as acid rose in the back of his throat.
Her nails dug into his flesh as she tightened her grip. She wrenched him toward her, heaving with a fierce look of determination.
“Let me tell you all the things I plan on us doing together.”
His hand breached the circle on the ground. Darkened blotches of dirt and blood disappeared underneath him as she dragged him closer. She clawed his flesh, leaving gouges in her wake. The sting was instant, as he crossed the line on the ground.
His heart slammed against his ribs, desperate to be free as the flames of Hell descended. Greedy orange flames lapped at his body. He yanked one hand from her hold and slapped at the fire.
Cold, soulless eyes stared back at him. Her words invaded. “I’ve been so lonely down here, Hart. So very fucking lonely.”
The sound of shredding fabric filled his ears, and no matter how much he beat the flames, the fire still surrounded him.
But there was no burn. Only the sting of her nails and the slippery feel of her touch as she tore his shirt free.
Run, Hart! Get out of there now.
Ondine’s scream shattered the Mistress’s hold over his mind. He threw himself backwards, scurrying like a rodent across the filthy floor.
“You wanted the spell, didn’t you? You want the kind of power that can kill the Creator. It doesn’t come cheap, Hart…”
Her guttural chortle rebounded inside his skull. He shook her talons from his mind and kicked. Dirt and dust scattered all around him…but the circle…the circle was broken.
The Mistress reared over him like Hell itself. “It’s been so long, Hart and I’ve waited…oh, yes, I’ve waited so long for this moment.”
Her black dress pooled like an oil spill as she knelt. She placed her hand on his leg, and his cock jerked.
She was a disease…a full-blown fatal disease, and she’d infected him as well.
Her smile grew as she crawled from the circle. Cold seeped through his clothes as she dipped low, skimming her breasts along his legs, and crawled forward.
“The spell isn’t cheap, Hart. It comes at a cost. So tell me, what are you willing to pay?”
He could smell her fetid breath, still he was helpless to move.
I’ve got you, Hart. I’m right here. I need you to listen to me. Find the jar…find the jar, the nails.
Hart’s head snapped up…the war water. The swamp water had been infused with his blood. The spell was his alone. Not powerful enough to send this bitch back to Hell, but powerful enough to make her think twice about hurting him. But it was gone, shattered somewhere in the dark.
“It’s gone,” Hart whispered. “I’ve lost it.”
Cold, slippery lips caressed his arm. The Mistress gripped his thigh and whispered. “Mine…all mine.”
His skin crawled at her touch. “Get away from me. Get away…”
I won’t let her hurt you, Ondine whispered.
Warmth filled his body, rippling like sun-warmed edges of the lake. Golden light spilled from the center of his chest and into the room, shining so bright he closed his eyes from the glare.
The Mistress cried out and wrenched her hand in front of her face, shielding her eyes. The smell of burning flesh filled his nose until night settled in his cell, snuffing the golden glow like a candle flame.
The Mistress lowered her hand, her eyes foreboding, her voice hard as stone. “What was that, Hart?”
He shook his head and forced a lie. “I don’t know.”
She shook her head and climbed to her feet. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a word you said. You came here to kill me, is that it?”
He shook his head and forced his upper body off the ground. With the darkness, came her icy heart. Her gaze searched the cell, and returned to him. She was nervous—no, she was afraid. “You want the spell? It’s upstairs in my library. Come.”
Her dress swept across his jeans as she strode past and he followed her with his eyes until she strode from his cell. His heart sped. The vein in his temples pulsed.
Would she turn around and slam the door? Would she lock him down here as she had for all those years?
His chest tightened, squeezing like a fist around his heart. He shoved his hands against the ground and clambered to his feet. The Mistress lingered at the open door. Dark turned to white as her body morphed from the solid to the spectral.
She wasn’t fully healed…not yet at least.
So he still had time.
He rocked with the pain and dragged one foot under him, and followed with the other. The bars were too far away. He half crawled, half dragged his body until he gathered momentum to stand. The bitch turned her head and took one look at him before she stepped through.
The look wasn’t just of mistrust, it was one of wariness. The path she walked was filled with cracks, and she’d better watch out. He’d killed her once—he could do it again.
That thought gave him what was stolen the moment he stepped back into this cell—it gave him power.
He gripped the bars and pulled himself upright as she stepped through the opening. His legs trembled with the pain. Shallow breaths made the room spin, still he forced his legs to move as he followed her out of the cell and along the walkway.
The shimmering orb followed her, illuminating the walkway. Hart shoved his hand against the wall and stumbled after her. Broken glass glistened on the floor as they entered the cellar.
He kicked the mess, searching for the rusted nails that would offer him some protection—but there was nothing. The Mistress climbed the brittle stairs, slowing long enough to call over her shoulder.
“It’s gone, Hart. You didn’t really think I’d leave myself that exposed the second time, now would you?”
He dragged his foot into the air for the first step without saying a word.
“I knew the second you made the thing. Rusted nails and peppercorns…really? Is that the best you could do? I thought I taught you better than that.”
He ground his molars together and followed her step-by-bone-gnawing-step. The bitch thought she had him backed into a corner, yet she forgot that a wolf had a tendency to bite.
He dragged himself through to the top of the stairs, keeping hard against the wall. The bitch hovered between her solid form and the ghostly apparition as she crossed the kitchen and headed for the hallway.
“You can’t kill me, Hart. I live inside you—I’m under your skin and inside your head. I’m there when you sleep and when you’re awake. You should know that by now. So, there’s no use in trying to rid yourself of me. I’m here to stay.”
We’ll see about that…the Fae’s voice echoed. Even in his darkest moment, she never left him.
“Just give me the damn spell,” he spat as she disappeared through the doorway.
The musty scent of old books mingled with a low hum of old whisperings. The coven’s old spells still remained within these walls.
The bitch had magic in these walls. Old magic trapped from the old coven. Power she used for herself.
The walls of the study rippled as she snagged a book from the shelf. Hart swallowed the urge to take a step and read the faint writing on the spine. Brittle pages crumbled under her touch, floating to the floor in a cloud of dust.
She never seemed to notice and dragged one pointed talon across the destroyed spells until she stopped.
She raised her head. Hateful eyes found his. “You want this? Think wisely before you answer, wolf. Once I do this, there’s no going back.”
There was no going back anyway. Not for him, not for any of the immortal creatures Allendra had sentenced. He took a slow step. His heart thundered, mouth turned arid. “Yes, I want this.”
She slapped the cover with a bang and dropped her gaze to his body. Pain coursed through his side, pinching and twisting something deep, something vital. Nerves tingled down his arm like the bite of a thousand ants.
He wasn’t dying…not yet.
But soon…
“I’ll need to fix that,” she whispered and took a step closer.
The idea of her hands on his skin made him shudder. “Just give me the goddamn spell and get the fuck out of my life.”
She clucked her tongue and the devil danced in her eyes. “Not that simple, Hart. Not that simple at all. You need to be strong, or you won’t survive.”
“I don’t care. You’re not touching me…never again…never a-fucking-gain.”
The glint in her gaze dulled. Her steps stilled. “Fine, you don’t want me to touch you. I won’t touch you.” She raised her hand, fingers extended, twisting together like a pit of snakes. “But you still need to be healed, Hart. You’re going to need every ounce of strength you…have.”
Pain roared, scattering thoughts with white-hot light. Hart’s knees buckled. He whipped his hand through the air, but it was useless. No one could save him. He couldn’t even save himself.
He hit the floor with a brutal thud and his wolf howled with agony.
“You need to be undone. Undone and pieced back together.”
His wolf rushed to the surface. Claws pu
nched through underneath, splitting his nails in two. Hard bones softened under the shift. His thigh shattered and molded together once more.
His screams rocked the room, blending with the terror inside his head and underneath in the dark recesses of his mind he could still hear her.
“That’s it my wolf. Come to me.”
He speared his nails into the floor, dirt cracked, shifting under his hands. This was what she wanted…this was how she’d trap him. After the transition, he’d be weak…helpless and vulnerable.
No. Get back.
His wolf snarled, teeth gnashed, filling his head with the savage sound.
Not now…not here.
Not with her.
Hart dragged his body along the floor. The bookshelf blurred.
Still he had to fight—he had to try.
His wolf hunkered in the corner, lips curled, white teeth shone in the dark. Not here, Hart pleaded, not yet.
His wolf dropped his head, black fur glistened. Hurry, it demanded.
Pain brought the shift to the surface. Sheer will held the wolf at bay. Footsteps echoed, shadows crowded in. The Mistress crouched, her knees brushed his arms as she straddled him. He could still make it.
He could still make it…
He reached for salvation and his nails gouged the wood.
She wound her fingers through his hair and pulled the strands taut.
She wrenched his head backwards and moved in close. “Did you think I’d let you go that easy?”
Cold, loveless lips hit his. He recoiled from her touch. His scalp burned, strands popped inside his ears as he wrenched his head to the side, breaking the kiss. “Get the fuck away from me.”
Her fetid breath filled him. Acid rose in the back of his throat as she held him taut with one hand and reached for him with the other.
“That’s it, fight, scream…you know how I love it when you scream.”
He closed his eyes to her words. Violent memories filled with hate and torture echoed from his soul. Her nails gouged his skin as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. The sting was instant, driving him back to the sickening flow of the familiar.
He knew her, knew her crooked smile as she climbed on top, knew the guttural sigh as she rode him. He could already feel the movement, already feel the rock and roll of his stomach.
