The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set

by Dianna Hardy

  “We always look a little different on Earth in human form. The clues were there – in your name, your eyes, the colour of your hair, your scent – but it had been so long, Mary … I’d almost given up looking. It only hit me when I realised what had happened; that the earthquake was a gateway opening to Hell … that he’d taken you. That’s when I knew who you were, and…” his voice cracked, “I left you there. I thought I’d lost you all over again, before I’d even had a chance to… Fuck…” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to contain himself. “I’m so sorry I left you … forgive me.”

  Forgive him? Her heart swelled. Sure, she’d rather not have been thrown into the pit of the earth by a walrus-faced monster, but in order to rescue her, Gwain had given up his wings and fallen into Hell – something angels avoided at all cost. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  But there was the question of them, and everything psycho-God had implied. “You’re the last angel, aren’t you? The one who was supposed to take Abaddon’s place next to God.”

  He nodded. “Although, technically, you’re the last angel – you came after me.”

  “Does it count if God didn’t create me?”

  “Semantics,” he scoffed. “I’ve got no bloody idea.”

  “Are you angry with me?”

  He pulled back and looked at her in surprise. “No.”

  “You seem angry … you’re usually so laid back.”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “You really don’t remember, do you? I’ve never been laid back when it comes to you.” And then the teasing glint was gone, and the heated desire was back, fanning her own. “I’ve missed you.”

  Holy shit, this is intense. But then, so was being an angel of darkness who could walk through fire.

  “Tell me I can kiss you.”

  “What?”

  “You made me promise not to kiss you – back in the prison.” He spun them around, and marched her back a couple of steps until she felt the cool stone of the wall pressing into her back.

  Before she could really think about what she was doing, she gave in to the heat inside her, grabbed the waistband of his jeans, and pulled him so he was up against her, that delicious bulge behind his zip snuggling perfectly into her abdomen.

  He groaned, his eyes still lingering on her mouth.

  A yearning she wasn’t familiar with tumbled through her. She wanted him on her, in her, biting and sucking her bruised lip, and wiping away all traces of Hell and its ruler from her system.

  Christ, I’ve got it bad. And after twenty-eight years of having no physical yearning at all, it felt friggin’ fantastic.

  When had this even happened? She could only assume it was during her little impromptu epiphany earlier on – it seemed to have been a hidden reset button for her life.

  She ran a hand up his torso, tracing the line from his navel to his chest, delighting in the way it sparked goosebumps over his skin. She should have been repulsed by the blood splattered on him – on them both – but blood and sex had always gone hand-in-hand for her. Come to think of it, every orgasm she’d ever had – all three of them – she’d been unintentionally covered in her own blood.

  But the sheer lust she was feeling … this was a first for her. Certainly in her adult life, she’d never wanted anyone. Sex had always been just sex – usually mechanical, always a means to an end – but right now, her insides were burning up, and she felt slick and swollen in places she never really gave the time of day to.

  She let her fingers travel over his shoulder, palmed the back of his neck, then ran her hand through his hair, bringing him down towards her.

  “Mary…” It was a plea, his voice, so low, it resonated inside her, filling up some hollow she hadn’t known existed. She sneaked a glance at him through her lashes, and was surprised to find his darkened eyes shiny with tears.

  He’s cried for you before… The memory of clawing at his face hit her again, sharper than before, in 3D and Dolby Surround … and this time, she heard herself telling him she loved him, just before she fell into some ominous black hole. The abyss!

  She froze, as the abstract portion of an archaic past she couldn’t quite fathom washed over her. It was an arrow through her beating heart. She loved him.

  Oh, shit! I love him.

  And there was that weird ‘awakening’ sensation coursing through her again, as if she’d been too long in slumber and was finally opening her eyes, stirring her body, stretching her wings…

  This was new, and ancient, and so completely tangible she couldn’t deny it.

  Saltwater stung her eyes. “Gwain.” His name quavered on her tongue under the weight of emotions, once lost, now emerging as she finally awoke. “What am I to you?”

  He brought his forehead to hers, staring into her, his eyes holding nothing but naked truth. “I’ve loved you for so long… You’re my downfall,” he whispered, his words breaking, “…and my fucking salvation.”

  “Kiss me.” She wasn’t sure she’d said it aloud, but she must have done.

  As if a dam to a tidal wave had just been smashed, his lips crashed down on hers … hungry, relentless, and ten thousand years in the waiting.

  Chapter Five

  Pueblo stepped out of his home dimension, dropped all the contents he held in his mouth and shifted out of panther form, into his preferred human one.

  The relief he felt at being free of his world washed over him. He wondered if he’d ever feel at peace with his home, even if he grew to feel better about himself. And he did feel better about himself. It was slow going, but Amy was a good healer, even if she didn’t realise that’s what she was doing. Or maybe it was the effects of being in love. Either way, he was grateful.

  He reached down and picked up what he’d dropped: three pairs of newly made loin cloths and a sapphire necklace. He folded the cloths as small as they’d go and stuffed them in his jeans pockets, then smiled as he brushed the sand off the necklace. It had been his mother’s and the only item she had possessed that had caught his eye. Having died at childbirth, he had no memories of her at all, but there were two portraits, finished and mounted by human hands – unusual for the Dessec, since they despised all humans. Maybe it had been at his mother’s request. In the two paintings, she looked wise, kind and fearless. He doubted that human ways of life would have instilled fear in her the way that it did the rest of his race.

  But what did he know. His thoughts were most likely the delusional fancies of a son who idolised the mother he wished he’d met – they certainly weren’t based on any fact, although he liked to think his instincts wouldn’t be off the mark.

  She’d been wearing this necklace in both of the pictures, and it – along with her beauty – was the only thing that had inspired his imaginings of who she was and what she was like.

  It belonged to him now, as all her possessions did. In fact, if he was going to get technical, he was the rightful King of the Dessec. But he had been a baby, not to mention, shunned, when his mother had died, so his uncle – her brother – had taken up Kingship by default, and he had grown up under his cold rule. He’d left the dimension as soon as he’d been of legal age and hadn’t looked back, preferring the warmth of humanity, no matter how much he despised his human father. Even if he wanted to claim his seat to the throne now, which he didn’t, he’d have to go through the entire Dessec population – no way they’d just sit back and let an abomination like him rule over them.

  What did he care. He shrugged all thoughts of that out of his mind. He just wanted Amy to have the necklace. It meant a lot to him, and so did she.

  He smiled as he thought of how the blue of the sapphire would bring out the blue of her eyes, and then he frowned as he pondered on when to give it to her. She needed her space – he knew that. She was fiercely independent, to the point where he’d accepted she may not ever love him for wanting to keep that independence. Not to mention, she’d probably never put her trust in another man again, given all that had happened to her.

&n
bsp; But he was as persistent as she was independent, and there was no way he was moving forward within their relationship without giving it the best chance he possibly could.

  His mind made up, he pushed the necklace into his front pocket, beneath one of the loin cloths.

  Preparing to teleport to Karl’s house, he was halted by a movement to his right. He thought it was a desert mirage at first – nothing more than the shimmer of the heat rising from the sand. Then the shimmer took form in mid-air, larger than a dragonfly, smaller than a hummingbird – but no less quiet. Its wings thrummed as it rocketed towards him, almost more quickly than could be seen.

  Pueblo yelped and ducked, resisting the urge to swat it, because even though he couldn’t believe his eyes, he knew what it was. He’d just never thought they actually existed.

  The buzz of its wings grew louder, then stopped altogether as the fairy settled next to him and grew in size until he – it looked like a ‘he’ – was as large as a heron. His translucent wings disappeared.

  Pueblo opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was an awed sounding laughter. He shook his head in bewilderment. They exist … Jesus Christ, they exist!

  “Close your mouth, demon. Any manner of things might fly into it.”

  Abruptly, Pueblo did as he was instructed. “You’re … you … you’re real?”

  He nodded. “Although we’d prefer if every living creature – human, demon or angel – thought we were nothing more than a figment of the imagination,” he stated, wryly.

  “Oh.” What did he say to that? “Then … why are you here?”

  The fairy’s pixie-looking face curved upwards in a smile that promised the kind of answer he might not want to hear. “Because the fay have a soft spot for witches and shamans, and humans that know how to wield magic.”

  Oh, great, they’re cryptic too. “I’m not a shaman.”

  “Your father was.”

  “My father’s an evil bastard.”

  “We care not whether someone is evil or good – that is of human consequence only… Although some angels do like to immerse themselves in mortal foibles,” he muttered, as an afterthought. “You have an innate ability to learn the ways of the shaman, and learn them well.”

  “It is of no interest to me.”

  The fairy shrugged. “Your choice. Your latent talents are not why I’m here. I’m here for your word.”

  “My word?”

  “Do you love her?”

  He stilled at the unexpected question, his defences rising, his body instinctively preparing for attack.

  “You know of whom I speak, and if you come at me, I’ll turn you into a warthog… Do you love her?”

  “My feelings are something that concern you?” he growled.

  “Yes, actually. Your ‘feelings’ as you put it, are connected to what happens in the coming months – to the big picture, no less. But my patience is wearing thin, and I’m going to burn to a crisp under this heat soon. Do you love her?”

  He hesitated, trying to figure out what this was all about. He drew a blank. But whatever was going on, he couldn’t see the logic behind lying. “Yes, I love her.”

  “Good. I want your word, demon, that when the time comes, you will not abandon her.”

  All blood drained from his face. Abandon her? Oh, God, how on earth could he ever abandon her? “I’d never—”

  Without warning, the fairy hovered into the air and darted into his face, stopping millimetres in front of him, his eyes, black and wide, boring into his. “I don’t want a vow given frivolously and based on heated passion; I want a vow based on the truth of what you will do when your fear becomes so great you will think of nothing but running.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Understanding is not required. Just. Your. Word.”

  “Fairy tales are tall tales – your kind are known for their trickery. Why would I give you my word when I don’t know what I’m walking into?”

  His features mellowed a fraction. “To save her life, Dessec.”

  Pueblo’s head spun in the stunned silence that followed, and for the first time he could remember, he felt cold under the blazing desert sun.

  Amy’s life was in danger?

  “It’s your fear that will kill her,” the fairy said quietly. And trailing the statement was an echo, in Pueblo’s mind, of those same words coming from the mouth of the Brujii Queen.

  “So I’m going to ask you one last time: when that fear consumes you, and it’s all you can see, hear, smell and touch, will you vow not to abandon her?”

  Yes, say yes! screamed the voice in his head. Unfortunately, the electrical current that travelled the nerve connecting his brain and mouth, didn’t seem to be firing properly.

  The fairy rolled his eyes in exasperation, and, without apology, reached into Pueblo’s front pocket and pulled out his mother’s sapphire necklace, tumbling an accompanying loin cloth to the ground as he did so. “This was a brave woman. Swear it on the blue stone she wore around her heart. Swear you will not abandon the woman you love.”

  Pueblo snatched the necklace back, angry to have it handled by someone else. The coolness of the sapphire against his palm seemed to knock him out of his reverie. He hated feeling like he was about to sign a contract he wasn’t allowed to read … but if Amy’s life hung in the balance, ignorance was a small price to pay.

  He tightened his hold on the stone, its smoothness pressing into his skin. “I swear it.”

  ~*~

  “Here,” said Elena, placing the mug of hot chamomile tea on the kitchen table in front of Amy.

  “Oh, I didn’t ask for—”

  “I know, but…” But what? Should she tell Amy that watching her ceaselessly and absentmindedly fidget with her ring finger for the past ten minutes, whilst wearing that haunted expression she’d worn for the past week, was about to drive her out of her own mind? “But it’s calming, and…” She faltered as Amy’s face fell.

  “Do I look stressed?”

  Elena sighed and plonked herself down in the chair next to her. “That’s the understatement of the century. You look exhausted and … well … sad, if I’m honest. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m—”

  “If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to make you drink that down in one go, and then get you another.”

  She smiled at Elena. “So, really, this cup of tea is for your sake.”

  “Yep. Now drink.”

  And thank the Lord, she took a sip.

  “So … are you going to talk to someone, or are you going to carry on the way you are until you break?”

  “I’m not going to break,” she threw back, annoyed.

  So there is fight still left in her. “That’s good to know. But we have an impending apocalypse to deal with, so get whatever it is off your chest sooner rather than later, okay?” Elena glanced at her watch. “I hope Pueblo gets here soon – I was hoping we could rescue my mum tonight, providing you’re all happy with the plan. In my head, I’m thinking that we’ve got the weekend to recover should we need it—”

  “I love Pueblo.”

  Elena grinned at Amy. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you – I mean that is great, isn’t it? I was wondering how it was going to work out with you two, what with him bonding with you by accident – idiot – and then the whole thing with—”

  “But I can’t tell him.”

  Oh.

  “Oh. Why?”

  Amy’s eyes welled up, and she blinked back the tears.

  Elena took her hand and squeezed it in reassurance. “Hey, what is it. We’re friends – you can talk to me.”

  “I don’t know if it’s something you want to hear. It’s … um … it’s about—”

  “I kinda figured that out already. I’m not blind. I won’t lie, it’s hard for me to hear about my grandfather—” Ugh, she hated thinking of Etienne as her grandfather— “without feeling like a blood vessel’s about to burst, especial
ly after what he did to you.”

  Amy flinched at her harsh tone, and she made a conscious effort to soften it. “But, they’re my issues, not yours. Besides, you’re more important.”

  She looked at Elena, warily.

  “Really, it’s all right. You can talk to me.”

  Amy took another sip of her Chamomile, then let out a shaky breath. “I’ve got all my memories back.”

  “Well … we know that – that’s a good thing—”

  “No, Elena. I’ve got all my memories back. Not just my memories, but Elizabeth’s memories too.” Her tongue tripped over the name Elizabeth, as fresh tears filled her eyes. “It started happening about a week ago. I had reunited with my mother; I could finally remember everything about my own childhood, but the memories just … didn’t stop coming. And I started to remember my life as Elizabeth.”

  “Amy, I have no idea what to say. Maybe … is this another spell?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m certain it’s not. There’s no trace of magic around me from another source – I looked. Paul – I mean, Etienne – he said it was over, and I believe him. I know that he’s removed the connection he placed between us, but…” A flicker of confusion darted across her face.

  “But what?”

  She rolled her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “It doesn’t feel like he’s gone. I guess it’s because of the memories.”

  “Amy, alarm bells are going off all around my head. If he’s not gone—”

  “No, Elena. I mean ‘not gone’ in the sense that … God, I have no idea how to explain this.”

  “Try.”

  She ran a hand across her face. “You know how when someone close to you dies, they feel ‘not gone’ even though they are?”

  Elena nodded.

  “Well, that’s sort of how this feels.”

  “Are you saying that he’s in your heart?” she asked, gently.

  Amy sighed again, and buried her head in her hands. “I was letting go. I was all prepared to move forward; that’s even what he said to do – not dwell on the past. Except, I then get all these memories of the friggin’ past…” She looked up at Elena, total defeat reflecting in the blue of her eyes. “How can I put it behind me, when it feels like it all happened just yesterday?”