Time was meaningless to Caspian. He lay in the dark nothingness between life and death. He wasn’t alive and wasn’t dead. He wasn’t a demon, but nor was he human. Not really.
The heart he’d grown had stopped beating. It still felt full of love for Grace, though. He remembered the look on her face as he’d fallen, and he knew regret for the first time in a long time. He knew loss and he knew despair. He knew these things, and he knew them because of her. He knew them for her.
There was a bright light getting ever brighter in his field of vision, but he felt none of the peace he’d heard humans experience when they die.
“Don’t go gettin’ all excited just yet, Caspian, me lad.” He saw the face of Hades peering down at him. “Eesh, with those glassy eyes . . . you look for all the world like you’re dead. I know it’s a bright light. Isn’t that a kicker? It’s for sinners, making them think they’ve hit the jackpot and got one over on the Bigger Boss. I am the Morning Star, after all. Why does no one remember that but me? Everyone remembers the Lord of the Flies thing from the horror flicks, but never that I’m supposed to be hot—in an official capacity, even! Hmm. I’m starting to feel very put off.”
Hades glanced around before speaking again, as if he were about to reveal top-secret information. “I think you’re in love with my granddaughter.”
Caspian couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to acknowledge his old boss. He wanted to. He could feel his last tenuous hold on this life, this plane, slipping away with the silence of the heart that had grown to beat so strongly in his chest. He wanted another chance, if only to tell Grace what he’d been afraid to admit: He loved her.
“You’re dying for her, eh? Very romantic, but unnecessary. So, you’d die for her. Would you live for her? Would you sell this humanity you’ve earned for another chance to be with her?
“I see that you would.” Hades made a show of straightening his collar before he continued, humming a chipper little tune. “I’ve got a deal for you, and you even get to keep your soul. What do you think about that? There is a catch, of course, but isn’t there always?”
Caspian didn’t speak. Instead, his body erupted into flames.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Weekend at Nadja’s
Grace, I really didn’t want it to be this way. I’ve come to realize since we’ve been apart that I do care for you. I wish you didn’t have to die. Nadja says she’ll bring you back for me when she’s the Baba Yaga, though.”
“My grandmother will smite her, Michael. Be prepared for that.”
Her ex-boyfriend snorted, easing Grace down the stairs into the cellar of his bar. “She’s come back from living death. She’s stronger than your hag of a grandmother.”
“We shall see.” It was hard for Grace not to say something slick about the Devil coming to kick his ass, but she didn’t want to give away any advantage she might have. If they knew Hades was coming, they might have time to prepare. Of course, none of this mattered if Hades hadn’t helped Caspian.
“Where’s your demon now, Grace?” Michael crowed. He dropped her on a frigid marble slab. “Your Crown Prince of Hell? You made him soft, you let me kill him.”
His words were like a thousand daggers, but only because they felt true. If Caspian hadn’t been with her, this wouldn’t have happened. “I know that, Michael,” she admitted.
“Was that your plan from the start—you just wanted to make me jealous so I’d take you back? Well, it worked.” He looked both pleased and annoyed. After a moment, he said, “But there will have to be a punishment for that stunt you pulled in the hot tub.”
“Why? You like to be jealous,” Grace said, trying to play along. “You like knowing that you’ve had what everyone else wants. That you could have it again.”
“I can at that.” He secured her wrists one at a time to manacles that were hanging from a marble altar like macabre bracelets. Michael sank to his haunches to pull her hair out from beneath her head, and when he did, he caressed its silky texture. “Your dying will not be easy. In fact, you will wish that you were dead many times over before it ends.”
Grace didn’t say anything.
“The book says that there are one thousand cuts to be made to your flesh before you are a worthy sacrifice to the Dark.”
“Are you trying to scare me, Michael?” she said.
“Oh, yes.”
His previous words hadn’t struck dread in her heart, but that simple answer did. He stood, and she could see that he had an erection.
Grace wanted to vomit. He was disgusting. He always had been. How had she ever been so blind?
“Yes. Now you’ve seen what I like, the biggest secret I was keeping from you. This is all for you, and when you get back from your little trip, you and I are going to have such a good time.” He laughed. “You won’t even be able to die to escape me. I’ll do as I like with you until the stars blink into nothingness and the world burns.”
She’d seen what he was, and she defied it. “Such a pretty tongue. Too bad all you can do with it is talk.”
“Trying to make me angry so I will kill you before the ceremony? It won’t work.” Michael smiled and shoved a ball gag into her mouth. “See, it just won’t work.”
Grace knew that if she started to cry, she’d choke, but the wild sobs filling her chest were about to erupt. She was terrified. She didn’t want to die, she didn’t want Caspian to be dead, and she didn’t want any of this. She wondered if Jill had felt anything similar as the life seeped out of her. Where was Jill? If only they could have taken their well-earned revenge.
She slowly breathed in and out. It seemed as if sense and logic traveled on that precious air, because the deeper her breaths, the calmer she felt. She breathed until peace settled through all her limbs and her mind shook off the foggy helplessness fear had instilled. She breathed until she no longer felt her body. She breathed until she remembered evil never won.
A light went on in her head as bright as a Las Vegas landing strip. If she could just invoke her grandmother, Gran would come and handle everything. She was glad now that she hadn’t known Seraphim was alive; otherwise, she would be unable to call on her. She would surely have used her one Baba Yaga call for something stupid. But now all she had to do was work the ball gag out of her mouth.
She fiddled with that hated silicone ball for what must have been hours. Her limbs went numb and so did her lips. She saw a movement in the corner, and her eyes scanned the darkness for a form in the shadows. It seemed to be a woman. Could it be Jill?
As the figure stepped into the light, all of the happy hope that had been buzzing like little bees in her chest crashed into her stomach with a sickening plop. It wasn’t Jill. It was Nadja.
“Do go on, little Grace. Don’t let me stop you. Work that gag out of your mouth, girl, and let’s see what you’ve got.”
Grace stared at her with defiant eyes.
“You certainly have a lot of your grandmother in you. You look just like she did when she was pregnant with Aurora. Too bad there was never anything in that dried-up old womb of yours. You and Michael would have had very powerful children.” The evil woman laughed. “Wait, you almost did. If only you’d died for Nikoli, you could have made him real. Your last breath would have been his first. The magick that made you believe was the same magick that would have given him life. They didn’t tell you that, though, did they?” She searched Grace’s face for a response. “No, the do-gooders never do.”
Grace knew in her heart that Nadja was just being vindictive, that she was looking for any and everything sharp and homing in on her soft places, that Nadja just wanted to make her hurt. The unfortunate thing was the hag was succeeding.
Nadja neared the altar and continued to inspect her, from the texture of her skin, to her hands and fingernails, to her hair. Nadja’s fingers were cold, colder than the marble Grace was lying on. Her touch was like frostbite.
“Would you like some help with that, Grace?” the witch asked, watching
her struggle with the ball gag. Her icy fingers pulled the device free and dropped it to the floor. Her first finger traced across Grace’s lips. “There you go. Is that better?”
She waited for a response but, not receiving any, continued. “From what Michael said about you, I really thought you’d bite. Don’t you want to bite?” Nadja pushed her finger inside Grace’s mouth and made a point to touch all of her teeth, almost like she was checking the breeding of a horse. “What a good girl you are! I don’t know why Michael had so much trouble with you. You’re not giving me any at all.” She smiled, baring her teeth like a dog. “I want to see your wings again. If I ask nicely, will you show them?”
Grace was thankful now that Michael had fed her the peanut-butter ball, because she knew when Nadja saw her wings, she would covet them. They were unlike anything else, or so Caspian had told her, and the peanut butter took away her control. But, how had Nadia known she had wings? Who could have told her?
Unless . . . she’d seen them after the fire. That was how Michael had been confident a bullet would kill Caspian. That was how he’d known her demon had chosen humanity.
“I can’t,” she said simply.
Nadja slapped her hard across the cheek. A small trickle of blood seeped from her nose. “Why not?” she asked.
“Michael force-fed me peanut butter.”
Nadja sighed, shaking her head. “That means I can’t eat you. Too bad, I would have liked to have had those wings. They really were lovely. I’ve never seen another creature with wings like that.” She paused. “I wonder if he did that just to block me.”
“He did it so I wouldn’t fry his ass. He killed the man I loved.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Nadja agreed. “But you can never tell with Michael. Are you sure you can’t try? If I eat you, it will be over very quickly. Michael’s little sacrifice party is going to take a really long time.”
“You could wait the three days until the peanut butter wears off and try again,” Grace said.
Nadja laughed. “Helpful, aren’t you? But, no. See, if we keep you hanging around, there’s bound to be someone drinking a hot cup of hero who will think he can save you. Then, if he actually did . . . well, I’d be out of luck on the wings and my son’s contract would be up with nothing to pay off the balance. So that gamble won’t work for me.”
“I see,” Grace replied. She was scared enough to pee her pants.
“Good. Glad you understand. Well . . . get on with it.” Nadja stared at her expectantly.
“Get on with what?”
“The summoning of your grandmother. I don’t have all day.”
Grace knew better than to ask, she really did, but the words just came out. “I thought you didn’t want anyone drinking a cup of hero.”
“You’re under the misguided impression that she’ll win.”
Nadja rubbed a spot on her chest and the neckline of her dress plunged just enough to give Grace a glimpse of a brightly burning jewel. There was no way she was going to summon Seraphim. Nadja seemed way too confident about her magick, and Grace had seen gems like those in books. Someone had died for that stone, and she was pretty sure someone else would die because of it.
She wondered if Sasha had been the one to be sacrificed. Had he been taken unawares, or had he sacrificed himself for love? Her previous comments came back to haunt her. She’d said that he and Petru deserved whatever they got because of the lives they’d chosen to lead, but now that judgment left a cold awareness inside her. Even if they did deserve it, it wasn’t her place to say so. Didn’t everyone deserve a chance at redemption?
Grace had to wonder why the Universe was bothering suggesting life lessons when her life was about to come to a screeching, glaring halt. For some reason, it gave her another beehive of hope, irrational though that sounded. But she still wasn’t summoning Seraphim.
“Digging in your heels, hmm? I can tell by the set of your chin. I guess we’ll have to find out what exactly it will take. By the end, you will call for your grandmother, though. Let’s start with your childhood.” She dipped her fingers into Grace as if Grace was a well and the dark horrors that haunted her were sweet, cool waters that she brought to her lips and drank. Nadja looked deep into her eyes, and Grace started screaming. But she didn’t scream for Seraphim.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Breaking Point
I’d be very impressed with how tough she is if it weren’t thwarting me.” Nadja sighed. “The horrors I’ve put her through would make you cry like a bitch, Michael. Maybe your demon will have better luck.”
“I’m not letting that thing out of its cage.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Nadja said. “Your contract is due tonight, and you’re not going to pay with Grace until she calls for Seraphim Stregaria. You make this happen.” She stamped her foot.
Michael eyed his mother with disdain, then grabbed her by the hair. “You have disrespected me one too many times, Nadja.” He shoved her down into a chair and got an inch from her face. “If you do it again, I’ll pluck that magick stone from your breast and swallow it whole. Now, I’ll get you Seraphim, but after I have achieved my demonhood. I’ll not roast in the fires of Hell for your revenge plot. Do you understand me?”
Nadja was so startled and proud that she had tears in her eyes. Her boy was strong! “Yes, Michael. You’re such a good boy.” He tugged her hair hard enough to pull some strands out before letting go.
Going into the back room, Michael came back with a leather-bound package containing tools and special instructions for his sacrifice. But as he was about to head down the stairs to the cellar, Ethelred appeared. The demon stood in his way.
“You shouldn’t kill her. Not now.”
“I’ve only got three hours. To do the carving right, I’ll need all of them. And, why shouldn’t I do it now?” Michael was frustrated, but he would also hear out what the demon had to say. He’d been smart enough in writing his contract to demand Ethelred warn him when he was about to put his foot in it.
“Your sacrifice is meaningless without Seraphim. The Baba Yaga must bear witness. So, Nadja, you will get your wish.”
Ethelred sat down at one of the bar tables, giving a slight nod toward the resurrected witch. He looked around the bar and turned up his nose, then waved his hands and performed some magick. A tablecloth stitched by Carmelite nuns appeared on the table, along with his trusty china and a piping hot pot full of Irish Breakfast tea. “I believe you should be expecting company. Would you care for some, Nadja? No? Suit yourself.”
“Are you going to make her call on her granny, or am I?” Nadja asked her son.
“I’ll do it!” Katerina said as she came through the door.
“Company. What did I say?” Ethelred shrugged.
Nadja was speechless, and Michael just gaped.
“Lay a hand on me, Michael, and leprosy will rot your dick off. Got it?” Katerina warned.
He was still too startled to answer, because this was the second time this week someone had threatened to do unspeakable things to his cock.
“Where is she?” Katerina asked.
“The cellar.”
“Tea?” Ethelred turned to offer her some.
“No—but thank you. Maybe Petru would like some. He’ll be here shortly.”
“You’re a good woman, Miss Katerina.” Ethelred winked.
“She’s a whore. Don’t you call her Miss-anything,” Nadja commanded.
“Nadja, you always were big for your britches. Miss Katerina may sell her body, but she’s a lady through and through. You’ll not be treating her badly any longer.”
“Is it an epidemic? First that idiot demon of Grace’s grows a heart and now you, you’re telling me that I need to be kind?” she sneered. “You’re from Hell.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to be rude or unkind.” Ethelred took another sip of his tea.
“Yeah, I think it does. Otherwise, you’re missing the whole bloody point.”
�
��Or you are,” he returned.
That was when Ethelred noticed something peculiar. His hands had changed. His fingers were longer, more elegant. Not that he’d been bad looking before, though most men with sausage fingers were unattractive. As a demon, he was marked by his hands. They were nature’s way of showing the world just how poisonous he was.
But, this could only mean that Caspian was dead. Even if the other demon had chosen a human existence, his crown wouldn’t pass until his mortal life ended. Ethelred felt a heaviness in his chest where a heart might have been. He’d wished Caspian nothing but the best with Grace, and he’d also harbored a secret hope that someday they all would find a certain companionship.
A heart? He supposed maybe you could be a demon and have one; it just wasn’t widely publicized. It made their jobs easier if no one knew that they had feelings. Also, after living so long, one could go numb, feel like one’s heart was gone entirely—but that didn’t mean it was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Betrayal
Katerina didn’t even wait to hit the last stair before she called Seraphim. “Baba Yaga, protect us!” Even though she wasn’t in any direct danger, Nadja’s presence was enough to warrant Seraphim’s attention.
“No!” Grace screamed. She’d fought so hard to prevent this, and all for naught.
There was no fanfare accompanying her grandmother’s arrival, none of the earthshaking showmanship that had marked her appearance in Grace’s apartment; the materialization was a quiet affair. Seraphim appeared—and as soon as she did, Nadja was on her like a nuclear-mutated leech.
Before Grace’s grandmother could react, Nadja bit into her flesh. Her magick was ready, ramped up, and waiting, and within moments she was consuming the power and life force of the world’s last Baba Yaga. Katerina shrieked as she saw what she’d done, saw all hope draining away into the evil that was Nadja.
Seraphim cried out and clawed her attacker, tried to use her magick, but she’d already lost too much strength. The beast that inhabited and empowered Nadja fed ravenously, and when Katerina tried to pull the Baba Yaga free, Nadja was as strong as three men. She tossed the blonde away like a rag doll, watched her collapse against the hard stone floor.
How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days Page 24
