Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls)

by Killian McRae

  Seemed Dee concluded they could. Without another word, Marc watched as his best friend picked up a nearby chair and turned it over, gripping the back like a handle of a true weapon.

  “You know what they say, Father,” he proclaimed as he took three measured steps and landed the lounger over the head of a warthog demon, passed out cold. “God helps those who help themselves.”

  Marc made his standard preemptive sign of the cross before lunging for a barstool and joining the action.

  At the back of the bar, Jerry recovered much more quickly than Riona. It looked to her like he didn’t like being kicked in his favorite body part — next to his hair, of course. Not by a long shot. “That’s going to cost you, witch. Infuita permuter!”

  She nearly doubled over in fear. Nearly. She hadn’t a clue what an infuita permuter charm did, but if it was demon magic, probably nothing good. The smug look on Jerry’s face confirmed she was likely in a heap of trouble. Her fight or flight instincts kicked in, and ratcheted her into high gear. She needed to know what she was up against. She needed Dee and Marc. Without another moment’s hesitation, she leapt to the left, spanning a distance that would have made a bullfrog jealous. Despite the circle of demons playing audience, probably savoring every lame quip Jerry spouted, she thought there was enough of a gap between two in that direction to break through.

  But when her body slammed into some sort of invisible brick wall, the answer to “What does infuita permuter do?” was all too clear. And painful as a bitch. Trapped. In every direction she ran, the barrier bounced her like a basketball. Confirming her suspicions, Jerry made no effort to stop her attempts to escape. Her battle with him would be mano a mucus.

  Riona turned back around, trying to manufacture some confidence in her features if it wasn’t in her heart. “Looks like you got me all alone now. So I guess we’re not doing the group thing today?”

  Jerry froze. “Would you have… gone for that? Damn, talk about a missed opportunity.”

  She nearly choked on her own words. “Come on, Jerry. You know me better than that. I’m much too greedy to share something so good.”

  “You did think I was good.”

  It didn’t come out as a question, more of an affirmation of what was undoubtedly true. In fact, his attitude gutted her, and Riona worked hard to keep her mounting anger from making her irrational.

  “Oh, shut up,” she snipped back, her nails digging into her palms as her fists balled up way too tightly. “You know you’re good. You’re a demon. Sexual gratification is part of your damned repertoire. Next to the deflowering of virgins and stealing socks out of dryers, it’s just the thing you do.”

  “I never should have shown you my collection,” he scowled. “Oh, you are the single most frustrating, fucking witch I ever… Argh! You think I do that for everyone?” he barked back as his body responded to the insult. His jittery pace could have burned a hole in the floor. “Hell, no! You were special, Riona. Yeah, I may get around because of my work and all, but I don’t always care what the other person gets out of it. For you, I tried to make it worthwhile.”

  Visibly, she seemed to melt. “Aw, Jerry,” she cooed, “that is so sweet.” Then, her mock smile soured. “If only you hadn’t locked me in a meat locker with a half-cocked crazy who thought he was Attila the Hun, it just might have worked out between us.”

  He tilted his head. “Holding a grudge over that still?”

  “What can I say?” she returned, her arms spread out in a questioning posture. “Setting me up in a kill-or-be-killed situation? Kind of a deal breaker. Worse than leaving the toilet seat up, in my book.”

  If demon teeth could withstand the level of gnash Jerry was applying, Riona thought black boxes on airplanes should be built from them.

  “Come on, baby.” His voice and features took on a more relaxed tone as he stood and gazed at her tenderly. “Deep down, you know I’d never put you up on the chopping block like that. I knew you could take him. It was sort of the whole point, getting you to kill so you’d start down a path to evil. Don’t you get it, Riona? It was a set-up to get you to fall before you could be recruited by Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Marc back there. It’s not just about your power. Yeah, Lucifer wants that hella lot, and who could blame him? But me? I just wanted you.”

  Green, bumpy skin gave way to smooth, olive delicateness as Jerry managed in the midst of this declaration to pull his glamour back over himself. The swirl of scales atop his head showered into a beautiful cascade of wild, untamed, ebony grace. Thin lips concealing a forked tongue softened to kissable, tender tildes. But the eyes, they stayed the same: blue as summer skies over Rio. Eyes truly were the windows to the soul, she’d learned, and a soul carried its signature color no matter which body it inhabited.

  “But, Jerry, now you’ve got me trapped, and as of two minutes ago, seemed quite intent on killing me,” she reminded him with a confused shrug. “You seem to be a demon who doesn’t know what he desires.”

  “As much as I love every inch and every taste of your glorious human body, killing you wouldn’t take you away from me. It would give us the gift of forever when your soul sank into the underworld and Lucifer remade you into demon flesh.”

  Hellfire blazed in his eyes, making her feel warm in all the parts she knew to high heaven should be icy cold right now.

  He licked his lips seductively before adding, “I know exactly what, and whom, I desire.”

  His hands were on her hips with blinding speed.

  “You.”

  He pulled her close and reclaimed her lips, the heat of Hell funneling his need. Despite herself, Riona gave into her momentary lack of judgment, and ability to stand, and let him take from her what he wanted. It would be a lie to say it was unpleasant. As his tongue found hers, she even thought for a moment that she felt that old flicker of warmth for him. But it couldn’t be… Things were different now. Riona knew who she was, and who she wasn’t. And who she wasn’t was any two-bit demon’s welcome mat, ready to be used whenever he decided to breeze into her good graces.

  She was a Pure Soul, and a cosmically powerful, ass-kicking Keystone witch, at that.

  The blasting hex took only a moment to leave her lips, sending Jerry on an improvised spacewalk into the invisible wall he created. She expected him to propel himself forward, to lash back in his usual bipolar way, even if a moment ago he held her with a level of intimacy and sincerity that had her head spinning. He didn’t. Gravity pulled him without objection to the floor, where he sat mournfully, looking at her with a hurt, defeated expression.

  His words were laced with muted pride. “That’s my girl. Now, have at it.”

  Something about seeing him give up so easily, to accept his end, knowing she held his earthbound existence in her hands… Something shifted. Sure, Jerry Romani was a demon of legendary dark deeds, and sure, he probably wouldn’t hesitate if their roles were reversed, but was that justification enough to destroy him?

  “I … can’t!” Her tone approached an apology. “Jerry, please. I know there’s good in you. Someone who was as caring and tender with me as you were can’t be all evil. Isn’t there a way? Can’t you come back to our side?”

  He looked like a man in mourning as his head shook. “The road to Hell has few exits and only goes one way. I can give up the demon, but I can’t forgo the damn.”

  “There must be a way. Maybe—”

  “There’s not, babe,” he said, cutting her off. “Believe me, it’s all been tried. I am a demon, you are a Pure Soul. If you’re not willing to come over to our side…”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, then,” he sighed, “let’s just leave the past behind us and get to kicking each other’s asses. In the end, we’ll always have Paris.”

  She clicked her tongue. “We never went to Paris.”

 
“That wasn’t you?” He scratched his head. “Hmm, who the hell was it then? Damn, she was a sweet lay.”

  Reminded all too well of the fickleness of a demon’s heart, Riona lashed out. “Quantos mironus!”

  It was so cliché, so Captain-Kirk-gets-attacked-by-an-alien, but magic was what it was. The power gathered at her fingertips and shot forward. The lightning-like stream collected into a ball at the pit of Jerry’s stomach before extending across the planes of his chest and down the tips of his limbs. A shake and a shimmer, a smidgen of a pained wince, then he gave her one last, enduring smile.

  “Brava, amaro mio.”

  He didn’t vaporize like the other demon did; he exploded. In chunks. Riona found herself looking into blue eyes one moment, and picking bits of those eyes out of her hair the next.

  “Could this be any grosser?” she mused to herself as she flicked what was probably a tooth off her blouse.

  “Keystone!”

  Was she so centered on the showdown that she forgot all about the buffet of bad asses who filled the room? Riona’s attention turned immediately to the brawl and bashing that could have been filmed on a Hollywood set when she heard Marc bellow, “I know breaking up is hard to do, but maybe you could, you know, help us?”

  Dee threw demons left and right with rippling muscles and domineering physique. He looked like a Greek god defending Olympus from the Titans.

  Wouldn’t his daddy be proud? Riona thought.

  The priest, however, was doing what little he could, using a simple, electromagnetic charm to shock three scaled demons who had him cornered. His eyes were wild with fear, an emotion she had never witnessed before in his features.

  Sensing that the magical barrier had disappeared with her ex, Riona summoned the power that so easily channeled through her. Still, it was her first attempt at multiple demon dumping, and she only hoped she was up to the task.

  Who was she kidding? She had just destroyed Jerry Romani, the devil’s right-hand demon. She could take on Lucifer himself right now and probably get away clean.

  Her hands worked the magic, moving in concentric circles as the power gathered from the reaches of the universe into a silver ball of light before her.

  “Corbelum frotai nokturna fiente!”

  The ball grew from a pinprick to an omnipresent light radiating throughout the room. As it touched each demon, a momentary sense of shock and pain overcame their ghastly features before each in turn fell to ashes in its wake. Of course, the power of the light only passed briefly through Marc and Dee, giving each no more than a tickle. Dee swung a barstool through empty air, making contact with nothing and spinning in the wake. Marc stumbled forward, his ramming charge pointless with the defeated enemy now gone.

  A few moments later, the silence was permeated by the click-clack of Riona’s heels. The priest doubled over, breathless, and looked up to take in her blood-stained visage.

  “What happened to you?” he gasped.

  She looked down at herself in observation. “Jerry always did like a big finish,” she said. “Father, maybe a word or two…”

  The priest looked up at her in confusion. She motioned with her hands at the piles of dust surrounding them.

  “Oh, right,” he answered as he straightened up, grabbing a whiskey bottle from one of the amazingly undisturbed tables nearby and taking a quick swig. “Heavenly Father, we thank you for overseeing our acts today and keeping up safe. May they all burn in Hell.”

  “Amen,” Dee added, taking the bottle from Marc’s hand.

  He laughed, only seeing afterwards the remaining hurt evident on Riona’s face.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Dee cooed. Crossing to her, he put an arm around her shoulders before pulling back. The sleeve of his jacket covered in something. Or was it, someone? “You did good. That was hard. It’s what they do; play with your emotions that way. Don’t let anything he said get to you.”

  “I wanted to give in for a moment,” she answered shamefully, eyes downcast. “For a moment, I thought about how good it would feel not to vanquish him.”

  “But you did it. Riona, it’s not about what you want, it’s about what you decide to do despite that. The Council is going to be very happy with what you pulled off here today.”

  “What we pulled off,” she corrected. “Though I have to say, you all could have been a little more proactive in the ass-kicking.”

  Marc shook his head. “No, we couldn’t. Direct orders. You had to sink or swim on your own.”

  “You mean, this was the plan all along? Me against twenty-four demons, one of which could read my mind?” Riona gasped.

  Though it made sense. After all, she had unknowingly spent months having conjugal visits (and re-visits (and re-re-visits)) with a pretty high-profile demon. True, his service to Old Nick hadn’t exactly been part of their pillow talk, but sure as sunshine, her loyalty had to be tested at the get-go.

  “As it turned out, twenty-four demons and an imp,” the priest corrected.

  Riona shot him daggers with her eyes. She half-contemplated picking up one of the leftover beer bottles and chucking it to complement.

  Marc pointed to the bar. “He was hiding behind it. Lucky for us you used the right hex that works on both. Beginner’s luck.”

  Dee could see trouble brewing; his eyes focused in on the witch’s fist clenching and the priest gave her a “get-over-it” glare. Quickly, he moved to turn things towards the positive. “But, hey, you got the job done. Seriously, Riona, we wouldn’t have gone along for the ride if we didn’t trust you at the wheel. Marc and I have been near death too many times to rush into something that’s over our heads. Or, I guess in this case, over your head.”

  Riona smiled warmly, knowing Dee wasn’t the type to deceive. And frankly, yeah, she had been pretty damned awesome.

  “Fucking great. Can we eat now?”

  And in the end, Marc was still Marc, and still didn’t seem like a man who had any speck of good will for her personally. Riona nodded in response to his rude inquiry, and hooked elbows with him, making him squirm in discomfort at the familiarity. “But this time, it better be something more than cheap wine and vanilla wafers. I am so not crashing another first communion.”

  Dee fell in line behind them as they left Dante’s Inferno. “How about Greek? I know someone who’d cut us a good deal.”

  “The last time you said you knew someone, you gave my dry cleaning to a centaur.”

  “And did he not return it sparkly white and crisp?”

  She grimaced. “Yes, yes he did,” she admitted, before bitterly adding, “and that was my favorite black silk shirt. Pizza, Dee, let’s just do pizza.”

  They made their way down the wet street, passing through the September night, not even turning back once to see the dark eyes following them from the shadows of the alley next to the bar.

  Chapter 2

  The sound of falling water ceased and the Dour Power of the Hour himself stepped out of the bathroom and a bank of steam. “Your water pressure is amazing.” He wrapped a terry cloth towel around his netherworld region. “Thought that whole thing at Dante’s Inferno went pretty well, didn’t you?”

  Yes, Jerry had played his role perfectly. Now that the other two Pure Soul ninnies had gotten a chance to train her up a little, Lucifer wanted to observe Riona’s power and prowess in the field. The results were… enthralling. Better than expected even. Not only had she kicked ass, but there was a moment when the Keystone was tempted to have sympathy for a demon. A demon who had already screwed her over once, and probably would again if given the chance.

  Lucifer tingled with anticipation. If she could be broken by compassion for a member of the damned who had given her nothing except a good roll in the hay, what would be possible if she found herself a woman in love?

  “Of course,
with me handling it, what else did you expect, right?” Jerry threw the towel on the black leather sofa before crossing to the hearth to dry himself by the flame.

  The ashen lips of the devil stretched into a sneer. With a flick of the finger, the wet towel vaporized, leaving the sofa safe. Demons had no respect for the proper treatment of fabrics. Turning his attention to Jerry, the devil used the resources of Hell to complete a charitable act: clothing Jerry’s hellbound soul-body in some damned fancy rags. The temptation to turn the demon into an actual pile of scraps loomed. Yes, the little set-up had gone off well enough, but Jerry was more foolish than a lemming if he thought his momentary softening of the heart when looking at the witch had gone unnoticed. And this little strut-a-gut thing he was doing now was not exactly pleasing either. The last thing Lucifer needed was a cocky goblin who thought for no good reason he was the shit.

  “Don’t get on your high hell-hound. She’s green, that’s the only reason everything went the way it did. Don’t forget, if I hadn’t been hiding in the shadows, throwing that Morgana Box up when you needed it, you never would have gotten as far as you did. You wouldn’t be so lucky if you ever ran into her again.”

  “If I ever had the chance to run into her again,” Jerry interjected as he shoved a cotton swab into his ear, causing a brown ooze to trickle down the side of his face, “your plan would be known in a heartbeat. Can’t exactly get up to Earth without a body now, can I? No, not unless the great Devil provides me a pass and a fallen angel guardian to take me. And it’s well known, you don’t do that. I can picture it right now, the Council of Seven sending out a tweet, ‘OMG, Bitch Lucifer is fronting our Keystone. #CosmicForcesFail.’”

  “Which is why you gave up your earthly body, Jerry.” Not to mention, Lucifer really didn’t care for the fuss Jerry made over having to give up that body, telling Satan that his number one demon was still having defection fantasies. “I can’t have this fucked up. I’ve waited for this one for far too long. I. Want. Riona.”