The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance))

by Marie Hall

  Bezel hissed, his lavender eyes swirling with needles of red. The demon was mad with the taste of blood. One drop was all it took to bring out their baser instincts.

  Cian stood in front of her prone body, his arms outstretched, his legs bent into a fighting stance. “Bezel,” he growled, “she’s mine.”

  The demon jumped up, his normally gregarious face split into one of insanity. He licked his incisors. “Cian, move aside. I’ll kill you if I must,” his voice was hollow and gravelly.

  Cian glanced at Frenzy, and that’s when he noticed the silvery thread of illusion netted across the alleyway. Frenzy had cast a chimera and incited Bezel into the fury.

  “Frenzy, quit the chimera,” Cian barked at the silent figure.

  Frenzy shook his head, his silver eyes sparking with amber flame. “I’m sorry, Cian. I cannot.”

  His hands clenched. Normally one touch from his skeletal hand would be enough to incapacitate. But not with a demon, they were cursed to an existence of neither death nor life. His hand was useless against Bezel. Which left one option, battle the demon and fight off the illusion through pain.

  “Move, Cian!” Bezel howled.

  When Cian didn’t move, Bezel pounced on him. The demon was in a rage, ripping and clawing at his face.

  He hissed as a talon tore through his cheek. Warm blood oozed from the wound into his mouth.

  Cian grabbed Bezel around his scrawny farm boy neck and squeezed. Appearances were deceptive though, the scrawny neck was tough as steel, refusing to give way under his grip.

  Bezel’s wrapped his legs around Cian’s waist, constricting like a python’s deadly squeeze.

  “Wake the hell up, Bezel.” Cian repeated over and over, trying to snap the demon out of the chimera.

  The demon snarled, and slammed a fist into Cian’s chest, taking the breath from his lungs. He dropped to his knees, bringing Bezel down with him. Yet still aware enough to roll them away from her.

  This had to end now. It was incredibly hard to overcome a reaper, but he felt too close to it for comfort.

  With one last shot of adrenaline Cian snatched Bezel’s arms and yanked them behind the demon’s back, pulling them up higher and higher.

  Bezel struggled to free himself, but to no avail, he was trapped. Cian planted a knee into the demon’s lower back for leverage. Bezel howled with rage, kicking out, barely missing his jewels.

  Cian hated to do this, but there would be no other way to stop the demon when he was fully entranced. With a swift upwards stroke he snapped both arms at the wrist.

  “Bloody hell!” Bezel cried, bucking Cian off his back and crawling away on his forearms. Instantly the silvery net faded. The chimera destroyed by Bezel’s pain.

  Dragging air into his lungs, Cian hung his head, spent. His body felt like it’d been thrown into a trash compactor. Everything hurt. But he couldn’t rest, not now. He stood on shaky legs and made his way to her. Grabbing the leather glove he’d had the foresight to stick into his pocket, he slipped it on--he couldn’t risk the chance of accidentally grazing her.

  Scooping her up, he cradled her slight body to his chest. Cian trembled, but not because of her next to nothing weight. She was so soft. Her scent wrapped around his body like a gentle embrace.

  Cian glanced at Frenzy.

  Frenzy sighed. “You know I’ll have to come back.”

  “But no more this week, Frenzy. Make this fair and give me a fighting chance.”

  Frenzy didn’t move or say a word.

  “Swear it,” he growled when Frenzy failed to respond.

  The reaper gave a slow nod. “For the kinship we share, I give you my word. But you know the Queen is not bound to this oath. I’ll do what I can.” Then he swiped his hand, opening the portal between the here and there and stepped through, vanishing.

  “Cian, you dirty bastard,” Bezel chuckled. A dark green mist sheathed the demon. The snap and crack of bones reforming sounded. “You knew how to stop me.” He shook his head. “You’re either incredibly stupid, or just plain screwed in the head.”

  Cian licked the corner of his mouth, tasting the drops of pooling blood. The spreading ache of his wounds a constant throb. “Both.”

  The demon snorted and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Mortally wounded my bindsmen. He’s in the dumpster, I’m sure praying for your services right now.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Anyhow,” Bezel frowned and shoved a fist through his close cropped hair, “sorry ‘bout this. Lost my head. All that blood, then she showed up. Couldn’t stop myself.”

  Cian shook his head. “She’s safe, that’s all that matters.”

  “Yeah.” The demon shook his head and walked off, hands shoved deep into his pocket, appearing yet again as nothing more than a harmless frat boy on his way home from a late night binge.

  Cian couldn’t contain a sigh of relief; she was safe for now, at least from Frenzy. The Morrigan could still choose to send another. He fervently hoped that Dagda could somehow get her to agree to the terms. The Fae God had sent him back to the witch, surely he had some vested interest in keeping her safe as well.

  He’d bought some time and that was all that mattered.

  Not enough. Not nearly enough.

  ***

  Eve groaned. Did I die?

  Pain flared through her head like a nova about to burst.

  Probably not. Hurt like hell.

  All she could remember was demonic purple eyes, the taste of sulfur on her tongue and finally darkness.

  She shivered, feeling cold. But this wasn’t a normal chill. This was a marrow deep, soul-sucking abyss.

  Eve wanted to scream, rage, and cry all at once. Tears welled in her throat. A hollow mind-numbing void consumed her.

  Sharp bursts of pain came lightning quick and stole her breath. It was like an ice pick ramming through her brain.

  She hissed through her teeth. Panic and fear for her sisters hammered at her heart. Were they okay? But she couldn’t open her mouth to speak when every breath hurt so bad.

  Eve whimpered, on the verge of hysterics.

  “Ssh. You’re okay. Demon bespelled you. Rest. You are safe.”

  The voice wrapped her in a pool of silk. Warm fingers ran gently across her forehead. The touch comforted, anchored her to the present, and away from the hellish nightmare of a stalking demon. The needle hot pain subsided, becoming a low throb.

  She relaxed into the warmth, the touch. The last of the lingering ache faded away like mist over rolling waters. Finally able to take a breath without the flare of pain dulling her senses, Eve opened her eyes.

  Frost blue and gold eyes collided, along with a wicked sense of déjà vu. But she wasn’t given much time to think about that odd prickle.

  Instead she was sucking in a breath when the reality of who held her finally seeped through her sluggish mind. His gaze was a soft caress that seemed filled with hunger. The kind that promised danger and lust and dark nights.

  A hot shiver ran down her spine and filled her with liquid heat. The quick glimpse of him at the bar had not done the man justice. Not a blemish to mar the sculpted beauty of his face. He seemed made of marble, every feature chiseled and clearly defined.

  For a split second she wondered whether the body under the clothes was just as carved, and a warm curl of desire tied her gut in knots. His breath tickling her neck made her aware of other things. Like the rise and fall of his chest. Her arms wrapped around his thick neck. She was filled with a sudden desire to run her fingers through his hair and see if it felt as silky as it looked.

  The stranger gently sat her down. But she didn’t back up or move away. For some reason the thought of putting distance between them didn’t cross her mind.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, grazing a finger down the side of her neck.

  Goosebumps trailed a fiery path down her flesh. She winced when his fingers ran over two hard bumps. “What is that?” she asked, a bit breathless and dizzy.


  “Demon’s kiss. Befuddles the mind. Makes it easier to dominate.”

  “Eve,” Tamryn’s sharp voice broke her trance. Eve jumped and turned, nearly bowling her sister over in the process.

  “What?” she snapped with embarrassment.

  Tamryn narrowed violet eyes, her gaze sharp and assessing. Celeste crept up behind Tamryn, groaning as she rubbed her left temple.

  Both sisters were scratched and banged up. Tamryn wore a nasty gash over one eye, while Celeste had a long vertical cut up one cheek. Otherwise, they looked to have fared the fight in one piece.

  “You okay?” both sisters asked at once.

  She nodded, knowing by the glint in their eyes that she’d been projecting again.

  For once can I just lust in private?

  Celeste gave her a small smile, then turned her attention to the stranger with a raised brow.

  “Oh.” Eve turned toward the man, blue eyes threatening to hold her captive again. “This is...”

  “Cian,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face.

  Her cheeks burned. The man was intense. Oh, but who cared. He was totally hot.

  Lame, Eve. So lame.

  “Cian,” she repeated slowly, tasting the vowels.

  Harry grunted in the background as he fell out of the dumpster to the unyielding pavement below.

  Tamryn rushed to the Were’s side.

  Celeste, the most curious of the three held out her hand in welcome first. “Well, thanks for the rescue. That Demon went totally ape. No way we could have handled that without your timely rescue.”

  Cian nodded. “Glad I was around to help.” He bit his bottom lip and glanced back at Eve.

  She wanted to squirm under his hot gaze. Carnal thoughts knocked at her door.

  Tamryn shuffled up, her shoulder braced under Harry’s arm. Harry leaned against her heavily, looking slightly worse for wear. Cracked lips, swollen eyes. That was gonna be one heck of a mug tomorrow.

  They glanced at each other--an uncomfortable tension grew and twisted around them.

  Finally Harry blurted out, “I’m going home.”

  “Wait,” Tamryn said and turned to Eve. “You gonna be okay if...”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, knowing her sister felt a need to tend to the sickly. Though if you asked her, Harry was really milking it with that ridiculous woebegone expression on his face. Pathetic. Men. Catch a little cold and it was like doomsday, their world was thrown into a tailspin.

  “Go. Go.” She shooed Tamryn and Harry off. “Just be safe and call me when you get there. K?”

  Tamryn nodded, and walked off murmuring soft words of encouragement.

  “Oh brother,” Celeste said in an aside. “That bears begging to get a poor-baby lay. Well, I hope Tamryn’s smarter than that. He’s not gonna stick around after tonight, you ask me.”

  Eve nodded, not really paying much attention to her sister. She couldn’t stop herself from repeatedly glancing at Cian. It was more than just the good looks. Something about the quiet, unpretentious stranger beckoned her. Somehow he seemed so familiar. Yet she knew that face was not one she’d ever have forgotten. What was it? The nagging thought teased at the back of her mind.

  But nothing. The memory just wasn’t there. Infuriating. She wasn’t going to be able to go to bed tonight until she put the mystery of the man out her mind. She sighed. Nothing for it, she was in for a long night.

  Cian was quiet, watching the alleyway warily. With a gentle grip he grabbed her elbow and steered her and Celeste in the opposite direction.

  “I’ll walk you both back. Death still walks among us.”

  “How dare he commit to that oath?” The Morrigan growled her disgust into hers and Dagda’s chambers.

  Dagda hooked his thumbs together, quiet and contemplative. She stalked through the room. Her black gown trailed behind her agitated march like shadow.

  She whirled on him, pointing her finger directly at his chest. “How dare he?”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”

  She flared her nostrils, the ivory of her skin mottled with anger, her eyes a glowing red. He inhaled her rage with each breath he took. It stretched inside him, powerful and malignant, spreading its poison throughout his body. He was immune to her sorcery, but the mortals had never been. This was how his queen incited her wars.

  She looked like a warrior priestess, her multi-hued hair crackling around her head as a charmed cobra. “I’ll obliterate Frenzy for this.”

  He took a deep breath, these were icy waters and he needed to tread lightly. “And what would that accomplish, Chaos?”

  “Why do you care?” she snapped. “Is that any concern of yours?”

  He cocked his head, feigning disinterest.

  She narrowed her eyes, stalking toward him, slowly, methodically. “Why do you continue to involve yourself in these matters? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing that concerns you, dear queen.” His tone was velvet edged in steel.

  A wicked grin curved her lips. “So, we are once again at an impasse, fighting on the opposite side it would seem.”

  He inclined his head.

  The Morrigan licked her lips, now only mere inches from his grasp. Every nerve in his body was aware of her, the energy thrumming through her veins, the fire of fury in her eyes.

  “A wager?” Her black brow cocked in challenge. “I get to the human first, she dies, as does Cian and Frenzy.”

  Dagda grabbed her wrist, yanking her into his lap. She was stiff, but only for a minute. Then she relaxed and began to rub her nose down his neck.

  “What makes you assume this is about the mortal woman?”

  She bit his left ear lobe. Gentle at first, then hard enough to get his attention and make him wince.

  “Don’t play the fool, Dagda.”

  Shifting, he moved her directly over his hard length. Her eyes widened and she wiggled her bottom on him, making him groan in response.

  “Fine,” he said, voice husky and full of desire. “I win and they live. Those are the terms.”

  “What about the week Frenzy committed to?” Her warm breath spiked with mint, tickled his nose.

  Digging his fingers into her waist, he strained against the desire to rip off her clothes and have her now.

  “We let them have it and begin in earnest six days hence.”

  She nipped the corner of his mouth. He tittered on the brink of an explosive violence.

  “Maybe. Then again, maybe not.”

  “Five days. Minimum.”

  She inhaled. “Three.”

  “Chaos,” he growled, “that is not acceptable.”

  She sucked on his bottom lip. “Four. But that is all I’m willing to pledge.”

  Clenching his jaw, he knew bargaining for more would be futile. When his Queen set her mind to something she was as unshakeable as stone. “So be it. It is sealed. I bind you to your oath.”

  The air quickened with a hot rush of fire. Wind howled through the room, knocking books from shelves and glass containers from desks. Gradually the gale died and an unnatural lull filled the chamber. The pact had been sealed. Both understood the consequence of breaking it.

  She smiled, a delighted glint in her royal blue eyes. She looked happy, ready to gloat. That didn’t bode well. The queen hid a secret. He could almost see the cogs in her head spinning. She’d already formulated her method of attack. The Celts called her the Goddess of war and strife for a reason, rarely could anyone out maneuver The Morrigan in strategy.

  He frowned, only guessing at what she might be thinking. Knowing his queen, it would be something ingenious and devious. It was now up to him to figure out a way to thwart her. But for now his thoughts were of other things. With an animalistic growl he claimed her lips for his own.

  ***

  The Morrigan sat up; clutching the sheet to her breasts, watching the slow rise and fall of her King’s chest. She slipped on her robe and tiptoed out the room. With silent steps she walked down
to the rack room, Frenzy’s flogged and bloody body still hung from the chains.

  She smiled, admiring her handiwork as she walked up to him. His breathing came out in short, shallow gasps.

  “Listen to me,” she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

  He turned bloodshot eyes to her. Even after all this, fear did not glitter in their depths.

  “I’m releasing you. Find the witch,” she cocked her head, “don’t take her soul,” she paused, leaving the rest unsaid. By the question in his eyes, she knew he caught her meaning. Not taking ones soul had nothing to do with not harming. There was a difference. She lifted a brow and nodded, then continued, “Follow her. Gain her trust if you can, and when these four days are up, kill her.”

  “I vowed a week,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She grasped his chin, pulling his face toward hers. “Four days,” she hissed, “that is all. Follow her, then kill her. Is that clear?”

  He ground his jaw and yanked away. “I’ll do as you say, my queen.” The words lacked warmth. No matter, what did she care whether death groveled at her feet, so long as they were loyal. And Frenzy was very loyal.

  The Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “See that you do. I’m offering you penance, Frenzy. Don’t make me regret it.”

  His nostrils flared. He reminded her of a caged panther. Incredible power and deadly grace with a flinty edge of insanity, perfectly diabolical her Frenzy was.

  “I want no contact except for the day before her death. Come to me at the witching hour, I’ll make sure I’m alone.”

  He nodded.

  “Good.” She tipped her chin and ran her hands down his back, doing something she rarely did. Heal.

  A black mist flowed from her palms into him, sealing the lacerations and stitching the flesh together. She was not of the great healer bloodline, but what she had was good enough. Within hours he’d be whole, for now, this would do. She reached up and released his bonds.

  He rubbed his wrists. Hair like a sea of fire cloaked him to his knees.

  “Here.” She shoved a pewter amulet against his chest.

  He trapped her hand between his, yanking the chain from out her cold fingers and looked at it, then at her.