When Spell Freezes Over (All My Exes Die From Hexes Book 4)

by Killian McRae

  Anwen’s face screwed up, as if she smelled something foul. “Really? There’s an archangel Larry?”

  “Can we please focus!” In a whipping crack, the angel’s hand palmed a coffee table. “Our disadvantages are well known. But what are our strengths? We have me and all my awesome skills. Jerry’s excessive knowledge of all things divine and demonic, plus half his parentage being routed in hellfire. Not as strong as Riona’s angelic abilities, but still more than any two-bit demon could conjure. And Dee’s uber strength, basic wicca, and garlic breath.”

  “Hey! I was hungry!” the demigod defended. “The only edible things I found in the kitchen were uncooked pasta, butter, and a braid of stinking roses. If you don’t like the smell, that’s your problem.”

  Jerry shook his head. “I get the plan, Ramiel. Dee and I distract and break up the archangels while you swing your phallic symbol around.”

  The angel’s face reddened. “A heavenly blade is not a phallic symbol.”

  “You keep it hidden until you want to stick it into something, then you whip it out by the hilt and plunge it in to someone. Plus it’s about eight inches, long and pointy, and has the family jewels at its base. Sounds like a phallus to me.” Jerry shrugged off his joke when no one laughed, and put some sincerity back into his words. “If only we still had Michael’s heavenly blade...”

  Riona felt the guilt pinch her spine, and shifted, praying the others missed the nervous tick.

  “But there’s another fact you have to remember,” Jerry continued. He motioned quickly between himself and Dee. “We’re still half-human, and consequently, very, very mortal. It’s only going to take one direct blow, and we’re dead. Or in my case, dead again. And yet, you’re not planning to kill any of the Fallen. We’re just going to, what, shoot for détente?”

  Silence seeped into the holes of their expectations, until after several moments, Dee cleared his throat. “Just so we’re up front about all this, I’m willing to kill Hades, if that will help.”

  Ramiel said, “The accords have been skating on thin ice for a while. The moment one realm officially invades another, they’re toast, along with all the rules, charms, and regulations that have held each world parallel but separate for centuries. Our best bet is to trap Michael and Azazel somewhere they can’t use magic, and hope the others are just going whatever way the wind blows.” He collapsed into an empty armchair, gnawing on his knuckles. “But we won’t have a chance of getting anywhere near the fallen if we’re overrun by demons. You know the saying, fighting fire with fire? As much as I hate to admit it, that means getting Lucifer on our side.”

  The room exploded in exclamations, first lobbed at Ramiel, then at each other as the various opinions fractured allegiance. Dee pushed a finger into Jerry’s chest, while Ramiel tried to bowl down Riona’s retorts with both his words and his sneer. Anwen vacillated between the two sets of arguing hot pots, but couldn’t get much traction getting between either.

  Then suddenly, Riona froze.

  “Oh, don’t go all pillar-of-salt on me!” Ramiel balked. “Didn’t work for Sal’s wife, and it’s not going to work for you.”

  “No, shhh!” She threw her hand over the angel’s mouth. “Do you hear something?”

  Ramiel shook his head fervently, but a moment later, Jerry’s tongue stilled too.

  “What is that?” he asked, taking his wife’s other hand and leading her toward the front of the house. “Is it, like, a bird or something?”

  Ramiel’s brow furrowed as he too heard the tap... tap... tap... The next moment, he joined a queue that now included Dee and Anwen, tiptoeing slowly toward the window that looked out on the street.

  Riona’s body went rigid as she threw her hands over her own mouth this time. “No. No. No, no, no.”

  Jerry proved to have a more expansive vocabulary. “What in the hell is he doing here?”

  “Trying to get our attention,” Dee said matter-of-factly. “But why?”

  Down on the street, a svelte, tan, scruffy-faced Marc picked up another pebble from the dirty, slushy Boston street, and prepared to lob it.

  “I know you guys are in there!” he bellowed. “I can hear all your bickering. I need to see Jerry now. Come out before I change these pebbles to flaming brimstone.” He paused, as if reviewing the validity of his own words, then regained his confidence. “Yup, I’m pretty sure I can do that. Open up.”

  Riona turned her pleading expression on Ramiel. “What do we do? If we leave him out there bellowing, the neighbors are going to call the police. It’s going to be much harder to pull off anything if we have to deal with the human element right now.”

  “And if I tell you how to help a creature of Hell cross the charm designed to keep his type out, he comes inside and murders us all,” Ramiel returned. “Don’t forget, he has your dad’s blade. A few good pokes, and he sends all of us off the earthly plane.”

  Jerry pulled back the sheer panel over the window to get a better look. “I don’t think Marc’s capable of a good poke. Don’t forget, he died within moments of losing his V-card.”

  The witch pulled on her ear lobe. Something felt wrong, she just didn’t know what.

  The demon in the street flailed his arms about. “Fine, then. I did warn you.”

  The next moment, a miniscule meteor launched from his hand, sending a shower of sparks and smoke as it flew. It busted out the window, casting shards of glass in every direction. Ramiel summoned his energy and willed gravity to overtake the projectiles, sending all them immediately dropping to the ground. The fireball settled on a nearby, Persian rug. It took to flame faster than the LA hills in August.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Ramiel’s uncharacteristic exclamation drew attention from the impromptu campfire in the living room. He conjured water from the tips of his fingers, dousing the conflagration and the antique, refinished Cherry wood beneath it.

  Dee fell to his knees to administer to what, the others suddenly recalled, had been a wedding gift to him and Carol thirty years before. “Can’t you kill it off without causing more damage.”

  “Sorry, Dee, but my magic falls short of dry cleaning and hardwood floor treatments. Maybe next time, try Tinkerbell.”

  “I can see you, you know!” Marc’s voice came more clearly through the glassless frame. “There’s some sort of magic over this place. I tried walking up the stairs but I can’t. Please, let me in. I don’t know how long we have.”

  Riona dared to call back, “Until what? You pretend you’re my husband and try to seduce me again?”

  A dimple manifested on Marc’s cheek as he deadlocked her in his sights. The priest’s cocky grin had always done unholy things to her body, and his death and reincarnation as a demon hadn’t changed that.

  “You know what they say, Keystone. If at first you don’t succeed...”

  The blast of energy that hit him before he could complete the phrase landed him square on his ass. Everyone looked to Riona, only to find her equally shocked. When Jerry stepped forward, hand still extended mid-hex, and looked half-cocked to let another wave of power rip, the others stepped back.

  “Unless you’re here to give the blade back, Marc, I suggest you about face and go to Hell. There’s no way we’re letting a demon in this house, not even you.”

  “Using angel magic, are we now?” Marc stepped as close as the charm would allow him to the boundaries of the charm, and lowered his voice. “Or are you just making up for all time times you didn’t torture your baby brother like a good sibling would?”

  Jerry squared his shoulders and took a step back from the window. “So you know.”

  “What the hell?” Dee so eloquently put into words what they all were thinking. “How is that even possible? You were alive two thousand years ago. How could you two possibly be...” The demigod’s eyes darkened. “Marc’s father is Azazel?”

  “In both iterations,” Jerry said. “He got with Marc’s mom, somehow, and then reconstituted his soul in a demon b
ody. I’ve suspected it and even asked Azazel. He confirmed it.”

  Riona cocked her head to the side. “And when exactly tipped you off?”

  The ex-demon grew sheepish, losing some of the firmness in his carriage. “Once I was completely out of the picture, I knew Azazel be eager to find a new protégé. The fact that Marc was still able to love you, even after he was a demon, told me all I needed to know.”

  “Demons can’t love,” Anwen said. “But the two of you can.”

  “Because our souls weren’t entirely mortal,” Jerry informed her. “We’re both part-angel. The fires of Hell can’t burn away our capacity to love. Azazel probably did the same thing with Marc that he did to me: take my soul off the boiling pot one day early, and try to chalk up the differences to that.”

  Riona took back to the window. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Marc.”

  The demon laughed. “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I seem to recall a certain Keystone who just spontaneously popped into my bedroom in Hell not too long ago.”

  “Okay, I need a beer.” Dee turned toward the kitchen, lacing his fingers through Anwen’s. “Come on. You need one too.” Dee walked her out of the room.

  “Riona, Jerry...” Marc singsonged in the street. “Tick, tock.”

  “Just what do you think is going to happen?” Riona said.

  As if on cue, five amber vortexes rose from the street. The partly overcast sky broiled with dark, ominous clouds. Thunder rolled overhead, as green light brightened inside each twister. The light took on a familiar shape, a long torso from which arms and legs grew. A moment later, five Fallen stood with eyes narrowed on Marc.

  Michael was the first to speak. “Pretty smooth move there, priest, but looks like you overestimated your ex-friends’ compassion.”

  Marc scooted back to the foot of the stairs leading up to the door. If not for the magic keeping him out, he would have fell back that moment. As it was, he looked like a mime trapped in an invisible box.

  “I’ve put a charm over all this,” Ramiel whispered to the other two. “I’ve temporarily displaced us to another plane. The other humans on the street won’t be able to see any of this, but I can’t hold it for long. Magic like this is very taxing. We need to resolve this quickly.”

  Below, Marc answered the fallen prince. “Ah, see now, that’s only because you jumped the gun, Mike. I thought someone as geriatric and old school as you wouldn’t show up here for at least another ten minutes.” Riona could see the familiar struggle; Marc, wanting to surrender to something bigger than himself, but still having the will to fight his own weakness. It wasn’t fear that lost the fight, but courage despite fear that won. “You might recall how stubborn your daughter is. Seems she’s got something against having a hellbeast in her house. You know, her husband exempted.”

  “Oh, my God, I am human again!” Jerry belted out the window. “Can you please just all get over it.”

  Azazel ignored his older son’s rebuttal and focused on Junior. “Come on, Marc. You know how this is going to go down. They’re not going to let you in, and then I’ll command you to give us the heavenly blade, you’re going to hand it over. You have no choice. You are my demon progeny.”

  Marc spit to the side. “Unless your order is to eat you, I don’t see that happening.”

  Kochab stepped forward, pointing one knife like nail in Marc’s direction. “You’re too easy on the boy, Az. Just order him already. We must get home; we’re expecting guests. Maybe if I just...”

  The very moment Kochab lunged in Marc’s direction, she stilled. Marc held the blade overhead, his arm cocked back.

  “I’m guessing whatever magic is keeping me out doesn’t apply to this. Take one more step toward me, and it goes where none of us can get it.”

  Riona’s mouth fell to the ground. Marc’s threat actually succeeded in keeping the fallen at bay.

  Azazel circled around Kochab’s frozen form and extended his hand, open and waiting. “That’s enough. Marc, you know how this will end. You, on the fire.”

  “We both know the fires will only make me strong now,” Marc spit back. “Why not listen to Kochab, huh? Just order me to hand over the knife. We both know I’ll give it. Only, that wouldn’t be by my will, would it? No, force me to hand it over against my wishes, and it’s no better than a bowie knife bought of Craigslist to you. Its magic requires the owner give it freely.”

  “Ah, so you know, do you?” Azazel beamed at his child and dropped his hand. “Well done. If Molly Dade had known that fact, she would have realized her vanquishing Michael with his own knife was all part of the plan. Fine, so let me tell you how this is going to go down then. You may not have noticed, but our little impromptu face off here has been shifted to another realm. I’m guessing that’s Ramiel’s doing, but he won’t be able to keep it up for too long. In a few minutes, we’re going to snap back to the mortal realm, and when we do, I’m going to have some fun. I can’t get in Riona’s house, but I can get into every other building on this street. So many innocent men, women, and sweet, sweet babies to kill. And kill them I shall, until you decide to willingly give me the blade. Now—“

  Another step, and he was a mere foot from where Marc still held the blade aloft.

  “—wouldn’t you just rather give it to me, before that becomes necessary?”

  Jerry pulled the others away from the window. “Quick, Ramiel! How do we bring Marc inside without the others getting in? Is it even possible?”

  “Oh, great, Jerry’s had one of his cryptic revelations again.” Ramiel ran a hand through his thick, wavy blond hair. “We really don’t have the time for...”

  “Not my idea, yours,” Jerry said, cutting him off. “I’ll explain once he’s inside.”

  “Once he’s inside, he’ll vanquish me, murder you, and seduce your wife.” Ramiel had his don’t-fuck-with-me-at-this-moment look going. “I know you’re one of those kind who likes things kinky and rough, but homicide seems extreme.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Jerry wasn’t wasting anymore time. Already, he was at the door. The others, either concerned or intending to thwart him, followed. “He didn’t come here looking for you or Riona. He came here looking for me.”

  “Right, to kill you,” Ramiel reasserted. “He wants you dead. Why don’t you get that? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Dee! We need you.”

  The demi-deities barely made it in time to head up to the rear as they emerged out on the stoop. Michael, seeing the new audience, forgot all about Marc for a moment.

  “Daughter,” he said, beaming with low-level evil. “And here I thought the next time we’d see each other would be when you came to Hell.”

  “Yeah, and why would I do that?”

  “Because in the end, the lives of everyone you love will be in my hands. When that moment comes, you’ll do anything I ask.” He cocked his head to the side. “Unless you’re ready to forgo all this hullabaloo and just surrender to me now?”

  “You know, I just realized that I never got you a single Father’s Day present.” Riona held both hands out in front of her, each capped by a reversed middle finger. “Here’s two to help me catch up.”

  Michael grimaced. “You take after your mother.”

  “Ramiel?” Jerry’s eyes turned pleading. “Please?”

  “No, Jerry, no. There’s no way...”

  But the pillar cut him off. “Didn’t you here what he said, that the fires will only feed him now? Plus, he came here looking for me. Think about it. Why would anyone need me? What do I know that no else does?”

  Ramiel took one look at the way the Fallen stalked Marc, then one look in Jerry’s eyes, and knew the truth. Without another moment to spare, he grasped Jerry and Riona’s hands and began chanting. Riona tried to follow the dips and trips of its rhythm and meter, foreign and complicated as they were. Instead, the words found her. As though alive, the charm became threads she pulled from whatever the magic was made of. Her threads wove through the air,
finding the loose ends of Jerry and Ramiel’s words. Together, they braided themselves, and then reached out, beyond the charms protecting the house. Marc winced when the threads wound around him, but a moment later, he yielded.

  The Fallen watched with growing dread as Marc’s body, and particularly his hand still brandishing the blade, inched backwards. A frightening yellow light burst forth from Azazel’s hand as he ran full force toward the stoop, only to have the protection charm repel him backward the moment he came in contact with it.

  Marc landed in a fetal position on the stairs, but he was safe. Michael threw back his head and cackled.

  “Well played, daughter,” he teased once the chuckling had ceased. “You think you’ve won this round, but let’s see how you handle being trapped in that house with both the men you love. All’s well. I have others whose pain will bring your submission. You will come to me still.”

  “Only to kill you,” Jerry answered, shielding his wife behind his back. “And you can trust me for that.”

  With that, the Fallen disappeared.

  Chapter 14

  Something in his gut felt wrong. Like he had worms or had drunk too much Jägermeister. Only that couldn’t be; alcohol no longer had an effect on him, and why worms would want to gnaw at demon flesh, he wasn’t sure.

  Then Marc saw Jerry glaring, and the gurgle in his gullet made sense.

  “You don’t look very happy to see me, brother.” Marc uttered the word like a curse.

  Jerry winced, but didn’t lose one ounce of conviction in his voice. “Don’t think that changes anything between us, just because Azazel finally strapped on his balls and fessed up.”

  “Naturally.”

  The room looked like something out of his youth; old and archaic bones, scattered with worn and torn furniture clinging to life support. South Boston chic, his mother had been fond of saying. Not that Marc really cared about the furnishings. And although he honestly didn’t show up here out of any desire to see Riona, he suddenly found himself canvassing the room in his search for the redhead.