How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days

by Saranna Dewylde

  Seraphim Stregaria fell next, the last of her blood oozing out in a dark pool. The power that had sustained her was gone.

  Her strength doubled, Nadja took in all the magick of the Baba Yaga. It changed her in a way that it hadn’t Seraphim. It made her stronger, yes. It made her bigger, too, and less feminine. Her eyebrows thickened, meeting in the middle and growing slightly down the bridge of her nose. Her forehead creased and crinkled, and her arms elongated, her knuckles dragging on the floor. Her beautiful hair fell out in clumps, and sores erupted on her creamy skin. A great wart stood out from her cheek, and her spine bent and curved, forcing her to lean forward. Now all of Nadja’s ugliness was on the outside, but she had what she wanted. She was the world’s preeminent witch.

  “This is the horror described to me as a child,” Katerina whispered.

  But, there was hope. The gem still flashed with color in Nadja’s chest and surged with power. Katerina said a small prayer before closing her eyes and lurching upright, staggering forward and digging her fingers into the soft, rotten flesh of her enemy’s chest. She tore the jewel free.

  Nadja should have fallen over dead, but it was too late; the powers of the Baba Yaga kept her alive. She staggered, but remained upright. Katerina ran to Grace, trying to untie her before the creature reached them. It was difficult, because her hands kept shaking, but at last she succeeded.

  Grace was staring at her grandmother. The old woman’s crumpled form was motionless, and it seemed clear she was dead. The pain of that loss reminded her of another, and of the quartz she had in her pocket. All of that pain, all of that despair . . . It gave her the idea of shoving it into the hole where Nadja’s other heart-stone had been. Wouldn’t that wreak all Grace’s pain and suffering down on Nadja? She would rot in misery—and no one deserved it more.

  Grace had the stone in hand; she even held it up with every intention of slamming it into Nadja’s body for everything she’d done. Her hand fairly shook with the need to make the witch pay, but before she could act she remembered what she’d learned lying on that slab. Who was she to pass judgment on another? Who was she to condemn, especially when she didn’t know what had made this evil woman what she was?

  It wasn’t what she wanted to do. If she’d thought about it beforehand, this would never have been her plan, and she would never have thought herself able to follow through. But what she did was hug the monstrous woman. She turned and threw her arms around Nadja Grigorovich, threw her arms around her and hugged her. The Universe had been clear in its lesson.

  Visions lurched through her brain. She saw Michael’s father doing terrible things to Nadja. She saw Michael doing terrible things, including making the pact that cast the memory spell regarding Nikoli. She saw Nadja doing terrible things. This family was evil. Theirs was a cycle of violence, a cycle of horrors that seemed to have no end. But who was Grace to do anything but pity these people, to offer them sympathy and love and hope? Wasn’t love what had given her a shot at happiness with Caspian, even if events had turned out so horribly? Wasn’t love what allowed her to get past the evil spell making her believe she and Michael had a child? It was a horrible risk—and yet her only hope. It was humanity’s only hope.

  The quartz of suffering shattered in her hand, and the pieces scattered from her palm like so much dust. There was a flash of light and her grandmother’s body vanished. So did Nadja Grigorovich.

  Grace shook her head. She didn’t know what had happened but decided not to hang around and ponder her good fortune. Instead, she should get out of Dodge, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Whatever had happened, it was all fine with her.

  She didn’t know the blond woman who’d come to help her, but she grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. Only to crash into Michael.

  “Where are you going, Grace? We have a date.”

  The blond woman stepped between them. “Remember what I said about the leprosy and your dick falling off? Did you think that was a joke? Just let us go. Make it easier on yourself.”

  Michael smiled savagely and ripped a charm from her neck. Crunching it beneath his boot like a dead leaf, he waited a second and then grabbed the blonde by the wrist. Forcing her hand against his cock he said, “It’s still there, bitch. And maybe I’ll be taking it for a test drive on you later. Cutting this one up will be hot work, and it’s been a while since we were together, Katerina.”

  The blonde’s earlier bravado was gone. She screamed as Michael twisted her wrist.

  Grace slumped in defeat. Had all those beautiful words about love been a joke? Was evil to win after all? “Stop, Michael. Just stop. I won’t fight you anymore. Don’t hurt anyone else. Let her go, please.”

  “Turn around. We have a sacrifice to begin.”

  Grace thought that was an apt description. This was indeed a sacrifice. She wished it would bring back the people she loved, but she knew that was impossible. But maybe it could help this other woman. Maybe. Grace felt a kinship with Katerina, and she prayed that her acquiescence would do the blond woman some good. And while she’d never thought she’d walk willingly to her own death, not for anyone but perhaps her fictitious child, there had been so much suffering. And Caspian was gone, gone, gone. What was left? What was left but to do some good with the life she had left?

  “Michael, promise me that you’ll let her go.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I’m making a deal. My cooperation . . . my soul for her life. It’s a good deal, Michael.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “In blood,” he said, drawing a knife from a leather pouch.

  “In blood,” she agreed.

  He drew a first dark sigil on the inside of her wrist, deep enough to draw blood but too shallow to nick a vein. By the time he was done, her entire body would be covered in such markings and she would be praying for it to be over. She already was.

  A bright white light burned her eyes, gathering to illuminate the shadows.

  Michael saw it, too. He said, “Morning Star comes to make me a demon.”

  The light grew brighter and brighter until Grace had to close her eyes; it was like looking into the sun. Michael stopped in his cutting, used his arm to shield his eyes. There came a great shaking, an earthquake ten times more intense than the show Seraphim once put on for her benefit.

  Pieces of the building began to fall down all around them, and the ceiling splintered. Whole parts of the bar just vanished as if they had never been. A warm yellow light balanced out the agony of white. Out of nowhere there came a thousand voices singing Mozart in her ear.

  “Enough! I have had enough!”

  A tall figure with golden skin and white hair flowing down his back stepped out of the light. Grace could only see the waves of his hair and she wondered if he was a demon, too. But then he turned and she saw his eyes. It wasn’t hellfire that glittered there, but moonbeams and clouds. He had a sharp nose and high cheekbones. His eyelashes looked like snowflakes. He was almost as beautiful as Caspian.

  “You have learned all the lessons we could possibly ask, Grace Eden. You’ve found the courage to sacrifice yourself for others, to love even when all you love has been taken away and there is no expectation of recompense. You have earned all that I am about to give you.”

  Michael looked both surprised and horrified. He tried to stab the figure with his ceremonial knife, but the weapon bounced off the newcomer’s skin like it was a toy and the luminous being shackled Michael with a collar that erupted in spiny bone spikes out of his throat—as if it were part of his flesh.

  “I am Raphael,” the figure said, his attention back on Grace. Wings spread behind him like a banner. “A Crown Prince of Heaven.”

  Through the tears slipping down her face, she saw his wings weren’t the same color as the great white sea behind him. They were downy, but they radiated a lavender aura. Just like her own.

  Caspian suddenly materialized. The first thing he said was, “Hell.”

  �
��Caspian? How?” Grace looked at Raphael, who nodded his assent before she ran to him.

  “Adversary,” the Crown Prince of Heaven acknowledged.

  Caspian returned the pleasantry. “Your Highness.” “What? Why did he call you that?” Grace collapsed against her beloved, smearing her blood on him from where Michael had mutilated her but not caring in the least. She doubted he cared, either. She felt suddenly whole. Her life had been renewed.

  “Sorry I was late,” Caspian said. “I had a serious case of dead.” He supported her weight easily as he swept her into his arms.

  “Take care of my daughter,” Raphael said, and then he was gone. So was Michael.

  “Always,” Caspian said, as if the vanished prince could still hear. He glanced back down at Grace. “Looks like you’re both demon and angel, my love.”

  She smiled up at him. “Just like every other woman that’s ever walked the earth.”

  Caspian laughed. “All of this and still a saucy reply. What would I do without you?”

  “Be miserable and bored until the end of your days.”

  “There is that. Definitely.”

  She sighed in that moonstruck heiferlike way she’d been trying to avoid, but what did she care anymore? “I love you, Caspian.” Why hadn’t she told him before? Why hadn’t she told him a thousand times?

  “I went through Hell for you, so you’d better.”

  He held her tighter and just breathed in her scent, which was a lot like peanut butter at the moment. He was clearly waiting for her to be upset that he didn’t say it back, but she was just content to be in his arms.

  “You know that I love you, Grace. Don’t you?”

  “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to hear it,” Grace said. “Will you say it again?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll tell you as often as you’d like. I love you.”

  She looked up, drinking him in. She’d thought she’d never see his face again. Never see his smile, or feel his lips . . . Brushing a curl from his forehead, she held thankful joy in her heart.

  That was when she saw the burning crown that hovered over his head.

  “What’s this?”

  Caspian didn’t answer. He said, “I came here fully prepared to bring Armageddon to this little part of the world, but Raphael beat me to it. He was a lot calmer about the whole thing. Should we send him a thank-you note, do you think?”

  “Bring Armageddon? Hades . . .?” Grace asked.

  “He has retired to a ranch in Texas—with Seraphim,” he added, seeing the sadness in her heart.

  “How?”

  “Always asking how. Hades was right, though. It’s cute. And I think all of the answers will come in time. Your father’s gifts are going to make a big difference in your life.”

  “My father. I’d like to get to know him,” Grace mused.

  Caspian shook his head. “Look here, girly. I need you to not be thinking about him for a while.” He grinned at her. “I’ve been dead for some time, but now I’m back as the Prince of Darkness. It’s time to raise a little hell.” He gave a sly wink and glanced down at her breasts, then at his crotch. Grace could just imagine what was going on beneath his jeans. In fact, she spent a little time doing just that.

  She tilted her face up to his, and when their lips met, that was when she knew that Happily Ever After was like love. It wasn’t a destination, but a journey. And the whole thing was heaven.

  EPILOGUE/AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Where Are They Now?

  There’s popcorn on the floor. The tissue in one hand is wet from the scene where a frothy beverage spewed out your nose, and the tissue in the other is moist from wiping away your tears when Caspian died and you got really mad at the author. We all got sniffly there, and maybe a bit mad, suffered a raging case of “Hey, writer lady, you’d better fix this or I’m going to light your book on fire and send you hate mail.” Trust me: Even the muse got an earful. But as the credits are rolling, there’s great music playing and hijinks did most certainly ensue.

  “But what happened?” you cry. We want to know exactly how Seraphim isn’t dead and how Aurora and Raphael got together and so much more. And while Michael’s fate would be better suited to the horror genre—this is a romance novel, after all—one little peek wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  Hades did indeed retire to Texas. He’d wanted a ranch outside Dallas with some cattle. He didn’t seem to mind that the animals didn’t care much for his presence and Seraphim wasn’t very big on all the moo poop. She still had a job to do, and she needed to look and smell her very best. She was sure he just liked being around other things with horns. He wore a false pair around the house, always saying, “Guess who’s horny today?” All Seraphim could do was shake her head and smile.

  Seraphim? She’s still the Baba Yaga. The Powers That Be couldn’t let her go out like that. So, the Universe shook with their purpose and goodness reigned. The Powers don’t do that too often, but sometimes it’s necessary. Grace was so good and sweet and, hey, they just didn’t like an unhappy ending. No one else would have either, except for Nadja, but her vote didn’t count. Hades wanted his woman to retire and stay home with him, but Seraphim had a feeling this retirement stuff was just a phase—more like a vacation. He’d find some way to get back in the game, both feet first, and Seraphim wasn’t about to let him do it alone.

  Michael’s mother was strapped to the Wheel for another few thousand turns, and this made her pretty dizzy. She got a mulligan, a do-over. Some thought she didn’t deserve it, but there was a price yet to be paid. Her next incarnation would find her in the previous century as a young girl with visions—a dangerous occupation for a woman in the Burning Times.

  Jill was indeed bound to Michael for all eternity, but Nadja’s magick spell died with her. She was gifted with Michael’s soul in return. When he forfeited on his contract—he couldn’t exactly fulfill it while throat-chained by Raphael—Ethelred was kind enough to hand it over. The two now live together in a lovely house in Detroit. Jill is the Web mistress for a forced-sissy site, and Michael is her star performer three times a day. Her screen name is DoubleD_Dominatrix666.

  Katerina taught Petru how to cook, and they started a soup kitchen that doubles as a shelter for prostitutes wanting to get out of the life. The pimps don’t argue after a serious conversation with Petru. They got married, and Petru adopted her sons as his own. Katerina and Grace have since become very close. Petru misses Sasha daily, and they have a small shrine in their home where a candle is kept burning for Sasha’s soul. But he doesn’t need it. Sasha will have another turn on the Wheel, too, and he’ll find Nadja again and again until they earn their redemption.

  Ethelred is happy with his new Crown Prince status, but he’s kind of lonely, though Grace and Caspian have him over for dinner parties. They all play Taboo, and he’s really good at it. He’s also taken to growing his own tea. He wanted to say something slick about blowing the angel Gabriel’s horn, but I think we’ll give that a miss—for the time being.

  Grace and Caspian spend most of their time in a castle in the Netherworld, or in Hell as it’s better known. It really is a lovely place, as Caspian suggested. He can rule from there, taking care of this and that. He handled the brewing insurrection that Hades had been sweating, parceling several companies and selling them off, absorbing others and giving great severance packages. All in all, he turned out not to be all that bad a guy to work for, even if he spends a lot of time at home in the bedroom with Grace.

  Heaven and Hell being a state of mind, in a surprise development Raphael and Aurora moved in across the street and Grace has gotten to know them. While she loves both parents intensely, she still shoots fireballs when they pester her for grand-imps or cherubim. She’s not quite ready to start her new family, as she’s just been reunited with the loved ones she’d lost. But she figures it’s coming soon.

  All in all, everyone got their Happily Ever After. At least, everyone who deserved one.

  An
d don’t miss HOW TO MARRY A WARLOCK IN 10 DAYS, coming October 2012!

  GOT WARLOCK?

  Middy Cherrywood does. She’s got more warlock than she can hex with Dred Shadowins. He isn’t just a billionaire playboy and Weekly Warlock centerfold. He’s a spy for the High Chancellor, and he convinces Middy to pose as his fiancée for his latest mission. Too bad no one told his mother before she slipped Middy a potion that will make their sham engagement all too real in just ten days.

  Dred Shadowins already has his hands full with cursed objects, possessed nuns, and dreams where Merlin makes him pay for taking his name in vain by relating his sexcapades with Nimue. But by the end of the mission, he’s convinced his most difficult challenge is the hero’s cape Middy’s draped over his shoulders. Because he wants nothing more than to give her the one thing he may not be capable of providing: Happily Ever After.

  BRAVA BOOKS are published by

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  Copyright © 2012 Saranna DeWylde

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  ISBN: 978-0-7582-7906-4