Spellbound Desire

by Angelia Sparrow

  She rubbed up against me, getting wetter until she stiffened and gasped under my tongue. She quit kissing and smiled. “Yes, there it is. Definitely worth getting undressed for.”

  I remembered her saying she’d never found orgasms worth the bother and time they took, that they weren’t worth getting undressed for. I just smiled. “I would hope so, love.”

  “More?” she asked, her brown eyes gone big and dark like some women’s do.

  “Always more.” I ran a quick finger along the tattoo at the base of my cock, making sure I could last just as long as she needed me to.

  She lay under me and I moved, no closer to my own peak than I had been when we started, letting her have all she wanted of my cock, my mouth and my body. My arms ached and my shoulders would need a hard hot shower before battle tonight.

  “Please?” she said softly, “Please go down on me?”

  This new and softer Admire was an interesting development, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. Of course, I trusted her to shoot anything that came up behind me while I was otherwise occupied.

  I just smiled and pulled out. I wasn’t expecting her to reciprocate, but I wanted one more taste of her anyway. There she lay, all spread and deep pink, looking like dessert for the lovely luncheon.

  I ran my tongue clear around the edge and then right up the middle to flicker over her standing clitty. She yelled good and loud at that and my poor beard got thoroughly soaked. I licked all around her, getting the good stuff, and then stuck my tongue where my cock had just been, fucking her with that.

  She screamed again and ground on my face like I could make her come forever by doing this. I wanted to. Demon and ending of the world be hanged. I was busy. She came a lot, soaking me and the bed and all before she tugged my hair.

  “Let me ride?” she asked. Her face was as flushed as mine felt, and her whole chest was mottled red, down over her titties.

  She was still asking, but not begging. That was better. She clearly wasn’t sure of herself yet. I knew when she was unsure of herself, she lost her temper or shot shite. This quiet questioning woman wasn’t my Admire and I wanted the wild woman back.

  I spread out on my back. “All yours, love. Enjoy.”

  She swung up top of me, and covered me right in. It felt amazing and wet. I reached down and turned off the tattoo around my cock. No mana running through it meant it would let me finish. She rode me hard, her hands planted on either side of my head and her hips grinding against the bone of mine.

  Her eyes went deep and far away and her breath came in gasps. She got very wet and tight as she sat straight up, shuddering and yelling. She came down, panting just a little, and ran her finger over the rosary which tightened right down for me, and then, wicked woman, she tweaked my nipples.

  That was plenty and I came to fill her, top her off and pump her full of me. When the skyrockets stopped, she was kissing me slowly and sweetly with a smile on her face.

  “That was amazing,” she said and rolled off to lie beside me.

  “Aye, and I love you too.”

  A nap before the battle seemed very much in order. I fumbled and set my phone’s alarm, so I could shower. A last sleep, with my lovely lady in my arms, skin to skin in the lazy afternoon was exactly the thing.

  She nestled into my chest, stealing kisses of my neck and nipple.

  “You’re evil, woman, you know that.”

  “Oh aye,” she teased, mimicking my accent back. “And that’s why you love me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bran

  Jinx was waiting in the hall of the office building at seven sharp. I could feel Oeilett even this far from the Pyramid. Jinx felt like the demon and I rubbed my eyes a couple of times to be sure I was seeing straight.

  A tingle started in the air as I felt Ma reaching for me. My sibs were behind her, one and all, and the combined mana struck me like a live current. I felt energized, alive. Everything stood out sharp and clear, like I was seeing with new eyes. I could see every hair in my lady’s eyebrows, smell her skin, her soap and even me on her skin. I could hear her heart beating, a little too fast, and almost feel the air pulsate from it.

  Bring on the demon, there were McKays to fight Him.

  We rode to the Pyramid, D.J. and Jinx silent, the city roaring around me, pulsing with life and greed and need. I could see and hear everything. My body felt light around me, ready to fight.

  D.J. had talked me out of painting myself entirely as my Pictish ancestors had. “Right, because walking in with a leather-clad, six-and-a-half-foot-tall William Wallace in tow would be so unobtrusive,” was her statement, and I remembered the badly researched movie from some years earlier.

  “Wallace was never sprung from Pictish stock and had no right to the woad,” I’d growled. I’d settled for painting spirals on my thighs under the kilt and inner arms, and a triskelion on my chest where the vest would cover.

  Now, I could feel my family pouring mana into the designs, letting them work as storage. Good, strong Scots energy, sturdy as the rocks, hardy as our ponies, filled me. But around the edges were other tastes. Something hot and dusty, smelling of lion, came my way, and something rich with chocolate and wine. My children, summoned by my Ma, pouring out their mana to the father they didn’t know, helping me save us all. I was definitely going to go meet all of them after this.

  “Are you supposed to be glowing like that?” Jinx asked from the backseat.

  D.J. stole a look. “Ah shit, I said unobtrusive. How the hell am I gonna get us in if you’re lit up like a Christmas tree?”

  I made the spirals go quiet. The mana lay in them, still there, but not glowing like it had. “No worries, love.”

  The parking lot was full of cars, and motorcycles, hundreds of them, ringed the edge of it, a solid perimeter of metal. Police cars stood around too, a lot of them. Apparently Memphis police were unhappy about a sudden influx of combat mages. I pointed at the mages standing by the entrance with several uniformed police officers.

  “Demarco and the boys are there.”

  “Looks like the Bitch Patrol is out in force too,” Admire grumbled.

  “They’ll all want a last-minute consult. Drop me with them and park, sweetheart.”

  “I’ll get us seats,” Jinx volunteered. He got out with me and scuttled past the combat mages into the auditorium.

  My brothers and sisters greeted me, some of them looking away. The ladies of the Paranormal and Magical Squad scowled.

  “Mage McKay,” Officer Thomas stepped forward from where she’d been arguing with the vice president of the Bluesmen, “we know what’s about to happen here. Can we trust your people to keep order and not make trouble?”

  I nodded. “That’s what we’re here to do.”

  She glanced at the other officers. “Then we’re here to lend what energy we can and keep our city safe. Protect and serve.” The look on her face said she’d shoot anything that threatened her town, human, magical or other-planar. I was glad she was on my side tonight.

  I felt almost swollen as my family, the enormous extended family from all over the world, poured mana into me. Lilith’s Rebel girls were painting each other’s faces with woad, the real stuff and not just some blue makeup, looking solemn. I approved, and almost asked for some more for myself, but the memory of D.J.’s frown made me halt that idea. They wouldn’t be visible and I would. Instead, I went to sorting out my people.

  “Jackson, I want the Bluesmen coordinating the others. I want the Rebs in the catacombs under this place. Ladies, you yank your mana directly from the earth, so I want you as close to it as possible. I want a solid perimeter inside and out. If we have to get the non-mages out, I want the Belles to coordinate that. Women will be less threatening.”

  I let Jackson and the others go to work. My battle was inside. The crowd parted around me, letting me find Jinx with no effort. One of the helpers handed him a carnation.

  “Since you’ve been so very blessed, we’d like to have you down
on the platform again tonight.” She smiled at him in a way guaranteed to make most men agree to anything. Jinx was made of more pliable stuff than most and he readily agreed. He followed her down to sit on one of the folding chairs.

  I sat there on the second tier and waited for D.J. to find me. She homed in on me like I was true north and was seated at my side in less than a minute. We watched the other mages take up position in the Pyramid itself. I thought the women would be less fearsome for crowd control. Their power levels would be useful too.

  A lot of the church crowd looked nervous about all the leather showing. I wondered how many could see the patches. I knew my girl barely could.

  “Oh, that idiot,” D.J. sighed. I followed her look and saw Jinx far below us. “Of course he’s at ground zero. This is so typical of him. You watch, he’ll come out of this better than any of us.”

  There was nothing for it but to wait. I closed my eyes and let the mana that filled me keep pouring in. I could feel each of the unit leaders, coordinating the people to lend me the power so it’d do the most good. I could feel the Rebs in the catacombs beneath the Pyramid, raising energy to pass along and to defend themselves. They were singing too, and I stifled a grin as I caught some of the words, “On the woad again/The life I love is killing monsters with my friends…” Good girls and strong.

  The perimeter was firm and set. The demon might manage to materialize, but he wouldn’t leave the premises.

  I almost missed Roark as he bounded on stage to greet the night. For a moment I wondered what he got out of it, other than wealth and fame and power. Then I remembered that for most men, that was enough.

  “Good evening! God is good to us!”

  I knew it wasn’t God that had been good to them. God rested in my mother’s blessing, in the power of my loved ones, on my side. The Three-in-One and the Seven Paters were on my side, not his.

  I looked over in time to watch Admire roll her eyes. She didn’t believe in any of it. Such a pragmatist, my girl. If she couldn’t shoot it or get paid by it, it wasn’t her problem.

  Our host prattled a bit more and then asked the folks to join him in the chant. Every combat mage, in the Pyramid and outside it, woke to attention. We leaned in as the crowd chanted the name of Oeilett, the eyeball, the carnation.

  The center of the platform shimmered, but I knew most couldn’t see it. Another meditation like that would bring this about. But Roark was on to having the extra-blessed give their stories.

  That only raised the tension. With each telling how the prayer had benefited them, the crowd spontaneously shouted, “Oeilett!” The shimmer in the platform grew to an opening, like a black-and-red whirlpool. Some of the other mages saw it, I could tell. Ordinary humans can be such sheep. But we mages are called to shepherd them through the multiverse.

  “Bran?” She leaned over and whispered, a useless gesture. “He’s coming, isn’t He? The platform looks like a road on a hot day.”

  “Aye, not long now, love.”

  “Kiss me then. I love you.”

  It would be ungracious to leave her without a parting kiss, so I did, slow and sweet, with plenty of time. She tasted amazing. I hoped Mum was filtering this well, or about a hundred other McKays had kissed her as well. I didn’t care if she didn’t.

  The next chant began and the aperture opened wider. Now I saw the vague outline of a skull-like head, with the bones swept almost into horns, poking through.

  Oeilett had his corporeality.

  Oh, it wasn’t complete, not yet, but he would be all here very soon, then everyone would see him.

  Jinx stood up after the chant to tell his story. Halfway through the repeating of the Tale of the Million Nickels, his face went slack. I saw a claw-like hand, armored in bone, on his shoulder.

  “Oeilett,” he said, starting the chant again. The shadowy form flowed over him, as he led the congregation in three repetitions.

  He looked up to where we sat, his eyes glowing scarlet. Oh, Allan, lad, I sighed to myself. In over your head, and worse than usual this time. I would hate to kill him, but the world was at stake.

  But all was not well on the platform. Jinx twisted and fought, as with an invisible opponent. His skin bubbled, like it was boiling. He bent in ways human joints were never made to bend, and screamed with the pain of it.

  He had time to yell “Niagara Falls!” before he fell to the platform.

  “Oh Jinx, you can’t safeword a demon!” Admire shouted.

  Then Jinx ripped up the back, just like a cheap shirt I’d once tried on. Out of the crumpled suit of his skin, the giant demon, easily four meters tall, rose. He laughed and said the nonsense words again.

  “Niagara Falls!” He laughed. “Slowly I turn.” He turned to face me and I knew it was time. “Step by step.” He seized Roark. The leader screamed and begged and chanted the demon’s name. The beastie laughed and sank his claws deep into the man’s body. His body swelled, growing taller and fuller. He tossed aside the husk that had been a man and leered up at me, showing every one of his ninety teeth in a smile that went most of the way around his head. “Hello, old friend.”

  I balanced on the railing of the balcony, barely hearing D.J. talking behind me, ignoring the enthusiastic piping that had started up. This was the end, here and now, of one or both of us.

  “Manu forti!” I shouted the ancient motto of the McKays, and launched myself off the rail and into midair. “With a strong hand” it meant and I needed all the strength now. The mana of my family flowed through me, making the woad on my arms and legs glow blue. The mana of my brothers and sisters was to hand and I grasped it as I grasped the two specially enchanted daggers in my belt. I drove the mana into the enchantment, starting it up as I flew through the air.

  The mana was thick enough that I didn’t plummet down on the gasping crowd. I soared out and lined up my strike.

  Chapter Seventeen

  D.J.

  Niagara Falls. Only Jinx would die with the opening of a Three Stooges routine on his lips and a ghost piper playing something that sounded like the bastard offspring of Charge and How Bad Do You Want It? in the background.

  I watched Bran launch himself at the horrible, bony demon that had just killed my only living relative and sat down hard. I couldn’t do anything. The little flecks of mana I had wouldn’t help my lover, not when enough mages were sending him stuff that the air felt stifling to me.

  I sent it all to him anyway, the two-second foresight and the weirdness magnet, everything. If it helped, it helped. If not, it wasn’t hurting me.

  I watched him fall like the law of gravity had been repealed, moving more like a diver than a man who had decided to fly. He aimed straight for the demon, who looked up at him, twice his size and grinning like dinner was served. Bran’s body paint and his eyes glowed bright blue. I realized I could see the emblem patch on his vest. A World War One soldier in helmet, pack, jacket, kilt, boots and rifle with bayonet made a flying leap over a trench forever in sepia embroidery, just as Bran was making such a leap now.

  I looked down at Jinx, still lying on the platform, my head full of the horrors of war gleaned from movies and TV. There wasn’t even any blood. There should have been blood. When a man was ripped open from skull to pelvis, like his spine was a zipper, there should be a lot of blood. The thought made my stomach churn and I’ve seen some ugly styles of dead on my clients.

  I’d read up on Oeilett before we’d come in. The demon would have absorbed every bit of Jinx’s life energy to fuel the manifestation. There hadn’t been any liquid blood left in his veins, just dry, iron dust.

  A wall of mana slammed me farther into my seat and I felt it all rush past to where Bran was almost done with his slow-motion fall. I hadn’t felt power like that since puberty. Over two thousand combat mages, and more from around the world were supplying that mana. I wondered what would happen if Bran died. Would there be magical feedback or would it be like a fuse blowing and everyone would get caught with lethal doses of t
heir own power?

  I stopped the thought at once as Bran drove his knives into Oeilett’s eyes. Eww. I flinched back from that. But no great gouts of blood or goop came spurting out.

  Gravity worked again and Bran’s weight pulled the knives down the length of the demon’s face. He had to have a Constantly Sharp spell as well as a Cut Anything spell on them, just for the amount of bone and scale they were carving through.

  The daggers glowed as they marked Oeilett’s face, payback for Bran’s own. The demon shrieked as Bran wrapped his legs around His waist.

  The Belles had been charged with keeping order, but other mages circulated, fighting something I couldn’t see. It had to be the imps Bran had mentioned. Little energy suckers would pull in all the mages’ energy, bleed it off to their home hell-plane and leave Bran unarmed to fight the demon. I hoped the mages were winning.

  I saw squishy-looking chunks in unnamable shades of black and brown, purple and red, materializing on the platform around the demon. Some of them kept moving after they landed. Bran drove his daggers deep into the beast’s chest and let gravity carry him to his feet. The demon clawed at his chest, but pulled His talons away, as if the glowing blue triskelion had burned Him. He dug His talons in and ripped his arms, both of them, shoulder to elbow. I saw a wet white flash in among the red as Bran screamed.

  Still screaming, he shoved both hands, with the knives, into the wound he had made. The blood wasn’t stopping. He’d said he healed fast. But I wondered if Oeilett had learned some new tricks himself.

  A blue glow started inside the demon, pouring out of him through all the holes Bran had made in him. Bran ducked as the beast tried taking his head off and then clung tight when another talon came up under his kilt.

  He kept screaming, with a shrill and panicky sound in it, and I wondered what new damage the demon was inflicting. The people in the seats had finally registered that this was not entertainment and the Belles were trying to keep the audience from turning into a stampede.