Fate

by Nadine Nightingale

  The feeling returns to my limbs. I can move my damn mouth again. “Manda, listen to me,” I beg. “I know you sold your soul for me, but you don’t have to do the asshole’s bidding. Just walk away with me. Please?”

  “It’s a little late for that,” the First Knight says. “Amanda is no longer under your spell, hunter. She caught a glimpse of darkness and it’s so much sweeter than what you have to offer.”

  I ignore him, focusing on her and her only. “What, now he talks for you?” Bitter laughter crawls up my throat. “Wow. What happened to the girl that made her own decisions? The one who’d rather die than be somebody’s bitch?”

  “I told you she died.”

  I search for emotions, any emotion. There are none. The fire, the passion, the resistance, the fight—it’s gone. Puff! Vanished. Whoever stands catty-corner from me isn’t the girl I used to know. She’s someone…something else.

  Bastard knight wraps his disgusting hands around Manda’s waist and lowers his chin onto her shoulder. He’s so damn close, his lips touch the skin on her neck. “We’re running out of time, love.”

  Man, I think I’m going to empty my stomach in his face.

  Manda moves away from him and toward me. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  Because B did a locator spell and got me through the shield? “Enlighten me.”

  “Because I wanted to see you,” she says, matter-of-factly.

  Hope sparks in my heart. She wanted to see me. Maybe old Manda is still somewhere in there. “Well, I’m here.”

  “Yes, you are.” She traces a finger down my cheek. Her touch is cold, yet like coming home after a long, exhausting hunt. I close my eyes, leaning into her. “And just like I thought,” she says, withdrawing her hand. “I feel nothing.”

  My jaw drops. “Manda—”

  “You’re nothing to me, Alexander. Absolutely nothing.” She laughs like a hyena. “I’m finally free. Your opinion means nothing to me. Living up to your expectations is just a distant memory of a past life.”

  My heart misses several beats. “You don’t mean that,” I say, not sure to whom. Her or me?

  “Oh, yes.” She cups my cheeks. “Yes, I do.”

  My gaze lands on the ancient tome on the coffee table. What was it Berith aka the Nun said? The book will corrupt her. Yup. That’s what this is. Manda is under the influence of that damn book. Or else she’d never say shit like that. “This isn’t you talking.”

  “Always looking for the good in me, huh?” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t anyone tell you? I was born to be evil.”

  “Stop that shit,” I yell, at the brink of insanity. “You’re not evil. This”—I look around—“all of this is my fault. I should have never doubted you.”

  “But you did,” she says. “And now it’s too late.”

  Manda spins on her killer heels, heading straight for the grimoire. Whatever she’s up to it can’t be good.

  Stop her. You gotta stop her before it really is too late.

  “What about Leandro? Is he nothing to you, too?”

  Her shoulders tense.

  “You have every right to hate me,” I go on. “Trust me; I hate myself for what I did to you. But Leandro? You swore he’d grow up loved and cherished. And now you want to help that bastard kill him?”

  She faces me, her eyes an ocean of blazing green flames. “Shut up.”

  I am getting to her. “That asshole”—I point at the damn knight—“abducted your son, Manda, and you’re helping him?”

  She lifts her hands. The room fills with electric energy. “I said shut up, Alex.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You were ready to give up your whole life for that boy. Don’t you dare tell me you don’t feel anything for him. That book might have you under its spell, but I know you, Manda. I know you better than you know yourself. And I’m telling you, you care about Leandro. Remember his smile? Are you sure you never want to see it again? Are you sure you want to leave him like your father left you? Treat him like your mother treated you?”

  “Enough.” Her voice rattles the damn walls. “You know nothing about me. Absolutely nothing.”

  You’re wrong, Manda. And I’m gonna prove it to you.

  Chapter 33

  Amanda

  Malachite eyes pierce mine. Once upon a time, I drowned in those eyes. They were everything I ever wanted, everything I could never have. Now that they look at me the way I always dreamed of—lovingly, longingly—they mean nothing anymore. I feel nothing.

  Except for the power of the book.

  Alex comes closer. “You’re right, Manda. I don’t know the girl standing before me. But the girl I fell in love with, the one who swore to fight the devil himself over my soul? I know all about her.” He reaches for my hand. “She’s still in there somewhere. And trust me when I say, she’s one helluva lot stronger than some stupid book.”

  I step back, dull pain roaring through my chest. Looks like I do feel something after all. A shockwave from a different life. I remember saying I’d fight Lucifer over his soul back at Green House, shortly after I learned the truth about the deal he’d struck. I meant it, too. There was a time I would have died for him. But—

  “He betrayed you,” the book whispers.

  Did he? Alex is a straight shooter. He learned I was a witch and pulled his gun on me. It’s not like he set up a trap, or sent his hunter pals after me.

  Alex cups my face. “Manda, please. I’m begging you. Don’t let my mistakes ruin your life.” He pauses, looking me straight in the eye. “Your son needs you. We need you.”

  My son. Leandro. He was everything to me.

  “This”—Alex tilts his chin at the sheriff—“isn’t you, Manda.”

  Then why is part of me thrilled to break the fifth lock? “I…I—”

  Alex grabs me by the elbow and spins me around. “Look around you, Manda. Just take a damn look.”

  The middle-aged, salt and pepper dude secretly tries to get out of his cuffs. Across from me is the sobbing chick. Knees tucked under her chin, she cries for the life she’s about to lose.

  I did this.

  I barged in here with Clyde’s minions, watched silently as they slaughtered four people and ordered them to tie those two up so we could use them as vessels. I didn’t care about the screams of the deceased, had no regard for the lives of the living. A huge—very huge—part of me still doesn’t mind the slaughter. But the look in Alex’s eyes brings back memories of a girl that would care, a girl that sold her soul expecting to go to purgatory just so Alex would be okay.

  Clyde watches me with eagle eyes. His minions shield him, observing my every move. The color of their auras tell me they want to interfere. The reason they don’t? I could off the Voldemort fan club with the snap of my finger.

  “Just come with me,” Alex begs. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

  “Together?” The book laughs. “Are you really falling for this? He’s lying, Amanda. The second you give in, he’ll kill you.”

  I drink in his light blue aura. He’s not lying. He’s never been so freakin’ honest with me. “You don’t know him.”

  Alex squints, assuming I speak to him. “Who?” He eyeballs Clyde. “The demon bastard?”

  “Watch it,” Clyde hisses.

  “We can handle him,” Alex says, ignoring him completely.

  My gaze darts to the book. There’s a spell in there. It’s strong enough to kill a Knight of Hell and an angel. We were about to use it to break the fifth lock. But I’m not so sure I want to—

  “You stupid child,” the book barks. “He’d say anything to stop you. Don’t you see? He doesn’t care about you, or your son. All he cares about is saving the world.”

  Distant memories flash through my mind. Alex calling me names. Alex threatening to blow my brains out. Alex sitting beside me, begging me to open my eyes when I was shot. Alex consoling me after another one of Melinda’s you-are-the-black-sheep-of-the-family speeches. He didn’t always trea
t me right, but when I needed him he was there.

  “You think he loves you, don’t you? Then why don’t you ask him about his business with your mother?” the book suggests. “Go ahead, Amanda. Ask him.”

  My gaze darts from the book to Alex. “You know my mother?” I barely recognize my own voice.

  He looks up, sighing heavily. “Yes.” His aura remains blue. He’s telling the truth.

  I don’t understand. “How?”

  “She came to me,” he replies, his face a mask of regret and pain. “A few weeks after I learned the truth about you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because”—his gaze drops to his boots—“she wanted me to kill you.”

  Heat rises in my loins. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I…I’m sorry.” He caresses my cheek. “I—”

  I slap his hand away. “You lied to me,” I yell, voice like rolling thunder.

  The book laughs. “Yes, he did.”

  Alexander Remington met my freakin’ mother. She asked him to whack me and he did…absolutely nothing? Never even warned me.

  Why are you so shocked? Since the day we met, the hunter treated me as if I were the reason for all the things that are wrong with this world. He disrespected me, called me names, and used me whenever he was in need of a bad girl to satisfy his senses.

  Alex closes the gap between us. “I was a jerk, okay?” He scrubs his fingers through his messy, uncombed hair. “And I know I should have told you, but the things she said…” Trailing off, he shakes his head.

  Energy buzzes through my hands. “What, Alex? What did she say? That I’ll become the queen of darkness? That I’ll end the fucking world?” I throw my head back and laugh. “Looks like she was spot on, huh?”

  “No!” he half-shouts, half-pleads. “You’re not evil.”

  “Sure I am.” I tilt my chin at the sheriff. “Look around you. I did all this.” I grin. “I walked into the FBI headquarters and watched over five dozen agents die. I turned the streets into war zones, and shook the earth.”

  He swallows. Hard. “You had no choice, Manda.”

  I laugh. “You always have a choice, remember?”

  “No.” He crosses his arms. “That bastard”—he eyeballs Clyde—“tricked us both. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I should have trusted you to make the right choices. But I was afraid. Afraid to lose you, Manda. Whatever you did it’s not on you. It’s on me.”

  “See,” the book whispers. “By saving you, he’s simply easing his guilty conscience.”

  “Yes, he is,” I snarl. “And he calls me selfish?”

  Alex narrows his eyes. “Manda, who the hell are you talking to?”

  I lift my hands, a smile tugging at the edges of my lips.

  “Manda, what are you doing?”

  “Teaching you how to fly.”

  “Don’t,” he pleads. “Don’t do it.”

  I snap my fingers. “Too late.”

  Alex smashes into the wall. Plaster crumbles. The skin above his left eyebrow tears, spilling fresh blood. By the time he drops to the floor, he’s out cold.

  Barbaric laughter crawls up my throat. He came to save me, thinking I’m some stupid damsel in distress, waiting for a white knight to lead me out of the darkness. Newsflash: I don’t need saving. Not anymore.

  “That’s right,” the book assures me. “You’re better off on your own.”

  I fended for myself for as long as I can remember. Who is he to come barging back in my life pretending he gives a fuck or two about me?

  Clyde breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Tie him up,” I order his minions, the hollow in my chest growing at a rapid pace. “Make sure you’re thorough. I won’t tolerate failure.” The fifth ritual is too important to have Alex or anyone else screw it up.

  Two Voldemort lookalikes seize hold of his arms, dragging his unconscious body over the floor to the radiator. Under my scrutiny, they cuff him with the sheriff’s spare shackles.

  Clyde appears next to me. “We’ve got everything ready, love.”

  My gaze darts to him. “What are you waiting for then? Summon them.”

  He flinches. “Watch your tone, Amanda.”

  I’m in his face. “Or what? Are you going to torture my soul?” I wink at him. “Go ahead and try. We’ll see how that goes.” The power buzzing through me numbs any pain Clyde could inflict on me.

  Clyde cusses under his breath. Then he and his minions grab the woman they spared, the one we still need as a vessel, and tie her up on a chair next to the sheriff. Once they secured her, they step outside the circle and I secure it with the juniper mixture.

  “Are you sure this will hold them?” Clyde asks, pointing at the herbs.

  I cock a brow. “Are you sure you can summon them?”

  He doesn’t reply. Why would he? We both know he can.

  They form a half-circle around the hostages. “What are you doing?” The woman cries. “Please, let us go.”

  “Don’t bother,” the sheriff barks. “They won’t let us go.” He eyeballs me. “Will you?”

  “No. Not really.” I shrug, lazily. “But if it makes you feel any better, we greatly appreciate your sacrifice.”

  “Go to hell,” he spits at me.

  I laugh. “Nah, I’d rather bring hell to me.”

  Clyde slices his palm. Charcoal blood slides down his wrist, dripping onto the sigil and the Enochian key he drew earlier. “Eerf uoy tes em ot emoc eeht nommus I em ot emoc, retsis, rehtorb.”

  The foundation of the B&B rumbles, announcing the arrival of an upper-class demon, a Knight of Hell, and a cherub, one of the most powerful angels.

  “Eerf uoy tes em ot emoc eeht nommus I em ot emoc, hsilleh retsis, ylnevaeh rehtorb,” he repeats, his eyes burning like molten lava.

  Glass shatters. Pictures fall. Furniture is tossed around.

  He murmurs the incantation one last time. The ground stops shaking and an eerie silence settles upon us.

  The woman’s head jerks from side to side like a yoyo. She digs her nails into the chair, stiffening like a surfboard. The same goes for the sheriff. The vessels attempt to reject their possessors. Without much luck, I’d like to add. Knights of Hell and high-ranking angels don’t necessarily need an invitation. They’re powerful enough to possess anyone at any time. Unless, you wear a pentagram. Or better, get a permanent one with ink.

  “Brother,” the woman says, blinking her glowing amber eyes open. “What are we—” She attempts to get up. “What is this? Untie me. Now.”

  Clyde sighs. “Sorry, sis. Can’t do.”

  “It’s true then?” Possessed sheriff asks, eyes glittering like diamonds tossed in the ocean. “You are betraying your own kind with”—he shoots me a killer look—“the witch?”

  Clyde moves to the edge of the juniper line. “I’m not betraying my kind,” he justifies his treachery. “I’m freeing us. All of us.”

  The female knight bursts into laughter. “You clearly lost your damn mind, Beelzebub.”

  Clyde’s jawline hardens. He’s less than happy his lovely sister spilled his name.

  “If you go through with this, we’ll have to fight—”

  “The last battle,” he cuts her off, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard that one before, sis. And I’m telling you what I told Berith, we will kick those”—he casts the angel a disgusted look—“bastards in the nuts, reclaiming what they’ve taken from us.”

  That’s where he’s wrong. The book doesn’t want demons to rule the world. Neither does it root for angels. It wants the world gone, diminished to ashes and dust. I could tell him, but I sorta like the idea of destroying this shithole, including all its—my gaze lands on Alex—treacherous inhabitants.

  Angel sheriff’s eyes catch fire. Blue flames gaze back at us. In the blink of an eye, he gets rid of his shackles. “Stop this madness,” he thunders, approaching us with a flaming sword. “Or—” He reaches for Clyde aka Beelzebub’s throat, but the devil’s
claw I added to the juniper line sears his skin.

  “Did you really think it’d be that easy?” Clyde smirks. “I am the First Knight, after all. You can’t stop me. No one can.”

  “You’re wrong,” female knight blurts out.

  “Am I?” Clyde teases her.

  “Yes, brother.” She zooms in on me. “There’s someone stronger than you. We both know she could kill you without breaking a sweat.”

  “She won’t,” Clyde argues, confident. “I have something she cares about.”

  The sheriff narrows his eyes. “Are you really that blind? Look at her,” he urges. “She doesn’t care about anything anymore.”

  Clyde has had enough. “Kill them,” he orders me.

  “My pleasure,” I say, happy to send these bitches to purgatory or wherever else angels go when they push daisies.

  I grab the First Grimoire. It opens the page of the ritual by itself. Sweet, huh?

  “What do you need us to do?” Clyde asks, ready to assist.

  I flash him a smile. “Just stay out of my way.” The first four rituals might have required some help. Now that I’m pulsating with energy, I can do it all by myself. Besides, it’s an easy one. All it requires is for me to read a line. Boom, the lock is cracked; demon and angel are dead.

  Clyde squeezes my shoulder. “Amanda, your face…it’s—”

  “Beautiful?” I shrug. “Tell me something I don’t know yet.”

  “No.” He turns me to the broken mirror, near Alex. “Your veins are—”

  “Black as my soul,” I say, not impressed by my reflection. The black pest is all over me. But I already knew that. I felt the rush of power, spreading from my heart to my head.

  “Maybe—”

  “Step away,” I warn him.

  He eyeballs Alex. He’s still unconscious. But I hear the Knight’s thoughts. “She loved him. She didn’t hesitate throwing him against a wall.”

  “That’s right.” I’m in his face. “I didn’t. Imagine what I’ll do to you.”

  The female knight bursts into laughter. “You created a monster, brother. One you cannot control.”

  “Shut up,” he yells at her.

  “She’s right though,” the angel says. “You found your master, demon. And she will be the end of you.”