My nostrils flared as I gazed at it, and absently I rubbed the area over my heart.
“This,” the devil said, lifting the goblet into his hands, “is yours.”
My eyes were riveted to it. The smell was heavenly. Whatever lay inside drew me in like a moth to flame, and I took several more steps towards the chalice.
“Why wouldn’t I accept this gift?” I asked, wonder filling my voice. I couldn’t look away from it to spare a glance at the devil.
“None at all. Here,” he said, when I reached him, “it is yours, consort.”
He handed me the golden cup, and I got my first good look at what lay inside it.
Blood.
Chapter 28
Andre kicked the cloaked figure, throwing all his unearthly fury into the hit. The kick blasted the being across the room. Their body slammed into the far wall, the impact shaking the castle. Dirt, dust, and chunks of stone rained down from the ceiling.
He didn’t wait for the deity to recover. Lifting his hands to his shoulders, Andre slid out the two swords sheathed to his back and approached the crumpled being.
The figure’s hood had fallen back, and beneath it he saw a petite woman with raven dark hair. It was the same woman who’d dragged Gabrielle to this room. One would never assume that she of all people was a deity. Too small, too dainty, her face too innocent. The most dangerous beings were wrapped in these sorts of packages.
“I’ve been looking for you, coward,” he said.
He lifted his swords to her throat, and she looked at him defiantly. Her lips moved. “I am … fate of death … cannot kill me.”
“I choose my own fate.” He sliced the swords across her neck, severing her head from her body.
He wiped his blades on her cloak and stepped away from her. He’d just beheaded the fate of death. She was immortal, which meant that she’d come back. And when she did, she’d most likely focus her wrath on him.
I’ll relish the day.
Andre sheathed his swords and stalked back over to the altar, eyeing Oliver on his way. The boy still guarded the doorway, his expression shocked. His hands, however, didn’t shake, and the stink of fear didn’t cling to him. He’d survive the evening’s horrors.
Grabbing a throwing knife from his belt, Andre began slicing his forearm open again. He wasn’t going to give up on his soulmate, damnit, no matter how impossible the situation was.
He lifted Gabrielle’s head, angling it so that his blood dripped between her parted lips. He was going to have to feed soon; he could only lose so much blood. Lucky for him there was a room full of blood donors. He glanced up briefly to glare at them.
He didn’t need to. All around him, the Eleusinian Order was coming apart. The remaining members clung to one another. Some wept, others wailed, and somewhere amongst them, the woman of ash and roses still hid. Now that he’d killed a deity, they’d finally grasped just how screwed they were.
Andre’s gaze dropped back down to his soulmate. “Gabrielle,” he whispered, staring at her too pale face.
No response.
It wasn’t working.
I blinked rapidly, trying to resolve my revulsion to blood and my attraction to this liquid. “What am I supposed to do with it?” I asked. Stare at it all day? ’Cause I could.
“Drink it.”
My fangs, which had descended at the sight of it, now throbbed, and my gut clenched painfully. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry. Hungry for blood.
I hesitated. I’d never drunk blood before.
“What are you waiting for?” The edge in the devil’s voice drew my gaze up to him. The face staring back at me looked calm, but there was an eager twinkle to his eyes.
“Why rush?” I countered. The smell of the liquid drew my gaze back down. It smelled like absolution, redemption, … God.
I almost dropped the chalice, and the blood sloshed around inside. Angelic blood. “This was why the victim’s blood had been collected.”
“Yes. It’s your wedding gift,” the devil said. Did he sound a tad impatient?
“Why?” I asked, enraptured by the sight and scent of holy blood.
“What do you mean why, consort?” he said. “It is yours because it is the most rare and exquisite gift I could give you.”
Angelic blood in the devil’s domain? That seemed oxymoronic. And how did it get here? My hands shook as the wheels in my mind began to turn.
“So, the killers didn’t drink the blood to absolve them of their sins?”
The devil gave me an amused look. “And why would they do that consort, when I can give them a place of honor in the Underworld?”
So the choice of victims and the way they’d died had to do with this wedding gift and nothing more. This strange and macabre wedding gift …
My grip on the chalice wavered as realization hit me. Threefold death was symbolic, the death of three sides of human nature—the body, the soul, and the spirit. Complete and total death.
Which meant …
I lowered the chalice. “This is food of the dead, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice accusing. Food that would keep me trapped here, just like food had trapped Persephone in the Underworld
The devil snarled. “You agreed to make use of my wedding gift. You vowed it. Now drink, consort.”
I stared at him and then the goblet, still hesitating. If the threefold ritual had actually worked, then nothing living resided in this blood. But there was something alive in this blood … God. I could feel him in the liquid; I suspected it was what had captivated me when I laid eyes on the chalice.
I rubbed my heart again. I did not wish to be parted from Him. I definitely wouldn’t call myself religious, but lately God had seemed synonymous with love, happiness, life—things I desperately craved. If I drank this, I’d be giving that up. Love, life, God.
“No,” I said, my gaze rising from the chalice to gaze at the devil. I steeled myself for the devil’s famed wrath. This was it; this was where I’d begin to fight, even if it was pointless. Even if I was stuck here for an eternity.
“You’d break your oath to me?” he asked. The earth around us trembled. Something far in the distance screeched.
“Shouldn’t be too surprising that the Deceiver’s wife wouldn’t exactly keep her promises,” I said.
Gabrielle. I cocked my head at the familiar voice.
My attention snapped back to the devil, my mouth forming an “O”. I only had time to see the blur of movement before I was tackled to the ground.
“Gabrielle,” he repeated. Still nothing.
It’s not working.
Andre let loose an anguished cry and dragged Gabrielle’s body off the altar and into his arms. He cradled her to him, sobbing as her torn neck listed back.
Another gunshot went off, but he didn’t bother looking up. He still had a clear view of Oliver and the exit. If someone got that far, then he’d intervene, and he’d make sure they regretted their decision to flee.
He sliced his forearm open again and tipped the blood into her mouth. “Gabrielle, come back to me.” His blood was all over her, and still he begged his body to offer up more. Hopelessness was beginning to set in.
And then he felt it. A spark of energy; the cord flared briefly. Andre sucked in a breath of air. His love was alive. Alive.
That was the only sign he needed. He dragged the knife down his forearm again, relishing the bite of metal because it was bringing Gabrielle back to life.
I gazed up at the devil, whose body pressed mine into the floor. Damn it all. This was the second time I’d been tackled this evening and the third time I’d found myself restrained. But …
I’m not dead. I might not even be in hell. Where were we then? Purgatory? Limbo? Was there such a thing?
The devil held my wrists in
one of his hands, and in the other he held the chalice. He’d managed to not spill a drop when he tackled me and wrested it from my grip.
“When were you going to tell me I wasn’t dead?” I asked, the echo of Andre’s voice lingering in my ear.
The devil’s forearm pressed down against my windpipe, and in his other hand he held the goblet. He must’ve snatched it from me when we fell.
“Oh, but you did die, three times over,” he said, his arm digging into my neck.
“No, I didn’t,” I rasped. That was why he had made me agree to accept his wedding gift. He had to trap me here because a dead thing would already be trapped.
“No one escapes a deal with me,” he hissed. This close to the devil, I could see that the color of his irises flickered like flames. “I will force you to drink this if I must.”
Knowing that I had life in me still, I thrashed against him. How was I supposed to leave this Godforsaken place?
He laughed at me, raising the gooseflesh along my arms. “You will be unwilling after all. Don’t say I didn’t try to be a gentleman.”
The devil began to tip the chalice, and I caught a glimpse of the scarlet liquid.
Gabrielle, come back to me.
My eyes widened even as I twisted my head away. Andre’s voice. He was somewhere just beyond my reach. My heart throbbed painfully at the thought, and I felt … I felt the cord that connected me to him.
“Look at me, consort,” the devil snapped, “unless you want me to get that pretty face of yours bloody.” Did I detect a hint of desperation in the devil’s tone?
The goblet dipped closer to my face, the scent of heaven invading my senses, yet still I kept my head tilted away from the devil. He couldn’t pin my hands, pour out the blood, and lock my head in place. He’d have to let something go first, and I’d attack him as soon as he did so.
I smiled as I spoke. “Face it, devil, you’ve lost this round.”
“You think you’ve won?” the devil laughed. “You can never win against me, consort. I am the king of the damned.”
He let my wrists go to snatch my chin, and that was all the opportunity I needed. I lunged up at him and dug my thumbs into his eyes.
The devil roared and the windows shattered with a blast. The hand that held my chin now used its grip to slam my head into the ground.
I bit back a scream as tissue tore and bone cracked. My vision went hazy. My last coherent thought was, Dear God, save me from this, and then my vision went dark.
Chapter 29
My body jolted, and I sucked in a ragged gasp of air. Andre gazed down at me, his face and clothes soaked in blood. I stared at his face with awe. The sight was too gruesome for us to be in heaven, but because it included Andre, then I couldn’t be hell either.
That meant I was alive.
Crimson tears streaked down Andre’s face, yet he was smiling, laughing. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips. “You came back,” he murmured against my mouth.
I opened my mouth to tell him how much I loved him, but all that came out was a ragged choke.
The pain came a moment later. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a wordless cry.
“Gabrielle,” Andre said, pulling away.
Something was wrong with me. My neck …
Oh God, my neck was sliced open.
“Gabrielle, you need to drink.” Andre held up a bloody arm, and the blood, was his. What had happened to him?
His words sank in. Drink blood? But I’d just escaped that fate.
I turned my face away, wincing when I felt the agonizing burn of my neck wound.
“Please, Gabrielle,” Andre said, his voice gentle.
I closed my eyes and grimaced. Even though my fangs throbbed, and my instinct screamed at me to take the blood, I didn’t want to. Not when only a moment ago the devil had tried to get me to do the same thing.
With my eyes closed, my other senses heightened. I could hear the tinny sound of techno music blasting from earbuds Andre wore. Why would he be listening … To prevent getting glamoured. Duh. Smart vampire.
But then, that meant that the cambion was still close by and still a threat.
“Where am I?” I asked. The scent of blood and ammonia hit my nostrils, and I opened my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“You’re still in the basement of Bran Castle, and you almost—”
“Oh. My. Holy fucking smokes, Sabertooth!” Oliver screeched. His footfalls pounded across the room, and then he fell to his knees in front of me, pulling me in for a bear hug.
I moaned as he jostled my wounds, and I swear I heard Andre growl in warning.
“Okay, okay, godslayer,” Oliver said, letting me go. “I’m backing off while you tend to your woman.”
“Not … anyone’s … woman,” I wheezed. Andre’s lips brushed my cheekbone, at that.
“Damn straight,” Oliver said, and I heard him sniffle a little.
My eyes drifted to him as he stood and retreated to the doorway. With a gun.
Wait. What was Oliver doing here? And who was stupid enough to give him a gun? And now that I actually paused, I could hear moans and soft crying. Oh all that is on God’s green earth, was the cult still in the same room as us?
“Soulmate …” Andre said, pulling me away from my thoughts. My eyes flicked to his, and I only had a moment to perceive the hunger in them before his lips found mine again. The taste of him washed away the stink of the devil. It was the kiss of a desperate man. My skin flared weakly.
I heard the sigh of a knife cutting through flesh, and then Andre drew my mouth down to his neck.
Blood dripped from a wound there. I tried to pull my head away, but I was too weak. Andre brushed a hand over my hair. “Soulmate, you’ve already drunk my blood.” I had? “But you need to drink a little more.”
Gently he pressed me towards his neck. The wound there had already begun to heal, but my lips brushed against the blood that had pooled on the surface. As soon as the taste of it hit my tongue, my teeth sank into the flesh of his neck and instinct took over.
It tasted better than anything I could’ve imagined. A surge of endorphins rushed through me. My soulmate tasted like home.
My body shuddered as blood filled my system and my skin began to softly glow. Beneath me Andre groaned, and I smelled that wild, spicy scent of his. Pheromones. Guess I wasn’t the only one that enjoyed getting bitten.
“I … never realized just how repulsive blood drinking was,” Oliver commented from behind us. “Though I will say, you two make nasty look good.”
I ignored the peanut gallery. My wounds itched, and I could feel them stitching themselves back together. I pulled deeply from Andre’s blood, and I felt him run his hand down the back of my hair, murmuring sweet things in Spanish.
The skin over my heart and neck sealed together. Very gently, Andre began to push me away from him. I made an annoyed noise in the back of my throat, which earned me a chuckle.
I released my hold on Andre’s neck and blinked a few times, letting my bloodlust abate. I hadn’t realized how close to death I’d still been until I’d gotten more blood in me.
I glanced up at Andre. “Thank you,’” I whispered hoarsely.
He gave me a tired grin, relief softening his features. He reached a hand up and stroked my face. “I love you.”
When I tried to reach out to him, I realized my wrists and ankles were still bound. I tugged against them, and the bindings easily ripped apart.
I looked at Andre, my eyes surprised.
He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.
“They were enchanted,” I explained.
He stared at my lips intently—reading them I assumed. “Look’s like the spell’s broken,” he said in response. Then, as if he couldn’t hel
p it, he leaned in and brushed a kiss against my lips.
Above us I heard the sound of sirens, and I pulled away, letting out a shaky breath. The Politia were arriving.
I touched my neck. It still hurt like a mother, but the wound had closed.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Andre said, lifting me in his arms. It was only now that the altar was no longer blocking my view that I got a good glimpse of the rest of the room.
I made a noise at the back of my throat. It looked like a butcher shop in here. Except some of the bodies … some of them still appeared to be alive. And now that I listened closely, I could hear whimpers of pain coming from some of them. When my eyes landed on Morta’s severed head, I nearly lost what little food I had in my stomach. Andre had gone on a rampage.
In the far corner, what was left of my former attackers huddled together, crying and shaking. They didn’t look quite so courageous now that the king of vampires stood in the same room as them.
When the group saw me and realized I was aware, I heard a few gasps. “She’s alive!”
“The vampire brought her back to life!”
“The devil’s consort lives!”
A few of them took a step forward.
“Move again, and I’ll make you wish you were dead,” Andre snarled.
I heard car doors slam and the sound of footsteps entering the castle.
He began backing up. “Time to go. Oliver?”
Some of the supernaturals with good hearing stirred amongst the crowd, restless at the thought of getting caught. Morta was probably supposed to take care of these details. Too bad the fate of death was now the dead one.
Karma was in fact a bitch.
A moment later the Politia swarmed inside the room, pointing their guns and yelling in Romanian. The group’s hands went up into the air almost immediately.
The Cursed (The Unearthly) Page 23
