Grand Master (Demons, #3)

by Simcoe, Marina

  “Dinner now and into bed.” Vadim got off the table, with me in his arms.

  “We already had dinner, remember?” My arms over his shoulders, I settled against his chest. “I had salad and cabbage rolls, and you had a whole bottle of sparkling water.”

  “You’ll need a snack after what we just did.”

  The tone of his voice didn’t allow for arguing, but I still did. “I’m not hungry yet.”

  He yanked the silk sheet off the table, tucking it around me on his way to the exit from the meeting room.

  “A cup of tea with honey then?” His tone softened. “You need some calories to help you recover.”

  “Fine, daddy.” I actually pouted, fighting a giggle.

  “Daddy?”

  “Well, taking your age into account, you’d be more like a many-times great grandpa . . . Oh, no,” I groaned, rolling my head on his shoulder. “I can’t think about you that way, but it’s true! You are hundreds of years older than me. It’s insane.”

  His chest vibrated with a chuckle. “It’s a little too late to worry about that now. Don’t you think?”

  “Right.” I leaned against his shoulder, savouring his familiar scent, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms holding me.

  The ever-present sting in my chest had been growing sharper with every day that brought me closer to my moving day.

  I’d never felt the need for a man to complete me. In fact, I always thought my destiny was to have fun and end up alone. These prospects for the future never used to make me feel sad. I imagined myself as a cool, forever-young aunt to my nieces and nephews—someone who wouldn’t be stopped by wrinkles from wearing a bikini to her dying day and would surf the ocean until she needed a walker to get around.

  I knew that a relationship with a demon extended a person’s life by centuries. Impossible to fathom for someone like me, whose relationships never lasted long enough to even speak of them in years. Spending an eternity with one person—be he a man or a demon—was just not realistic for me, I knew myself far too well to have any delusions about this. I liked and respected Vadim way too much to pretend otherwise.

  Surely, he took my initial warning to heart, because he never brought up the possibility of my quitting my job and coming with him. He hadn’t offered to come to Moscow with me, either.

  I felt his affection and his growing attachment to me every day. But I was the first woman he had been able to touch and enjoy without fear. It was to be expected he would develop some special feelings for me. Wasn’t it?

  As to my feelings for him . . .

  At the very least, I could be happy for him when we parted. With more freedom for Incubi than they’d ever had, Vadim would be able to skim the emotions off anyone he wanted when he moved to the States. And I could rest assured it wouldn’t take long before some lucky girl in Vegas claimed him for her own.

  Something twisted painfully in my chest at the thought, and I gripped his shoulders tighter as he carried me up the stairs and into his room.

  “A cup of tea would be great, baby.” I pressed my nose into the side of his neck. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 27

  STARTLED AWAKE I SAT up in bed, trying to figure out what woke me.

  The greying sky behind the large barred window indicated early morning—way too early for me to be up.

  “Vadim?” I called softly, realising that he hadn’t reacted to my jumping up in bed.

  He never slept and seemed to be fully alert whenever I opened my eyes in the morning.

  “Are you here?” I patted the bed next to me, finding his arm.

  The extreme stiffness of his bicep sent a shot of alarm through my chest. It didn’t feel natural.

  “Baby?” I called softly, roaming my hands over his chest and shoulders, his whole body seemed to be tensed. “Are you okay?”

  Not getting an answer from him, I jumped off the bed and flicked the lights on.

  “What’s happening?” I climbed back in bed and crawled to him.

  A rumbling noise, similar to the one that must have woken me up, rocked through his chest and made it through his clenched teeth with a hiss.

  “Vadim?” I shook him by the shoulders as horror seized my heart. “Wake up!”

  Demons don’t sleep.

  Unless it was the static state they called Deep Sleep, but I’d heard it took days if not weeks of complete starvation for an Incubus to fall into Deep Sleep. Not like this, literally overnight.

  “Baby, baby, baby . . .” I patted his arms and shoulders, cupped his face. Everything I touched was hard as rock. His features sharp, jaw clenched, eyes shut so tight, I could barely see the tips of his long, thick eyelashes.

  A violent shudder ran through him, rocking his body, head to toe. Another groan ripped from his chest, strained and tortured.

  This was like nothing I’d seen or heard of before. Vadim was clearly suffering, and I had no idea what to do to help him.

  Afraid to let go of him or to leave him alone even for a moment, I yelled over my shoulder, “Zayne!”

  Demons didn’t die. But what if whatever brought him to this world was taking him away from me now, back to where he came from?

  My concern shot into panic, crushing my heart.

  “Vadim, baby, please wake up.” I shook him harder. “Zayne! I need help!”

  Where was everyone?

  Had the same thing happened to all of them?

  “Anyone! Please!”

  Finally, the sound of heavy footsteps booming through the hallways reached me. I exhaled with relief—I was not alone.

  “Jade?” Zayne emerged through the door. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s Vadim,” I sobbed, pressing my demon’s head to my chest. “Look at him.”

  Zayne rushed to the bed as another wave of shudders rolled through Vadim’s body. As violent as a seizure, the convulsions were not sporadic—the rhythmic swells rolled through the whole length of his body, one after another.

  “What’s happening?” I whispered, as my voice broke, my face wet from tears I hadn’t even noticed overflowing from my eyes.

  Zayne splayed his large hand on Vadim’s convulsing chest. The expression on his face turned grave, knowing.

  “He is being summoned.”

  His words plummeted my insides into an icy void.

  “Where? Why? By whom?”

  “There is no way to tell.” He shook his head.

  “Is there a way to get him out of this?”

  “He is fighting it.” Zayne removed his hand, and I cradled Vadim in my arms, pressing him to me as hard as I could, despite the shockwaves of convulsions that violently rocked as both.

  “What can we do, Zayne?” I begged.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head, my heart sunk with a heavy feeling of dread and helplessness. “We just have to wait for him to find a way through.”

  “Through what?”

  “His demonic essence is being restrained by the spells of the ritual. If performed properly, there is no escape. However, the summoner is always just a human, and humans often make mistakes. If Vadim can fight long enough until an error is made, he can break the circle and escape.”

  “Break the circle?” I repeated mechanically, my mind buried under a thick haze of despair.

  “It means he’ll have to kill one of those who hold him captive.”

  Kill.

  I remembered Vadim telling me about Zayne being summoned once, too. “That’s what you did when it happened to you. You killed the one who summoned you.”

  “Yes.” He heaved a sigh, his voice sounded leaden.

  “There is no other way?” Vadim had been striving to move away from a violent past. I was afraid about the damage a murder, even one of an enemy, would do to him now.

  “Unless the conjurer lets him go. But that’s not why he called a demon in the first place.”

  “Why would anyone do this?” I slid my hand up and down Vadim’s trembling arm.

  “To g
ain access to the power of the demon unleashed from his physical form,” Zayne explained, sombrely. “Once the conjurer gets the demon under his control, he can make him do anything he wants.”

  “Like a genie released from a lamp?” I whispered, frozen in fear.

  “Except that it’s not limited to only three wishes. The summoner can ask the demon as much as he wants, as long as he can hold him. A demon can never deny his master.”

  “What would someone want from Vadim?”

  “Knowing humans, their wishes tend to revolve around money and control of others. Hopefully that’s all it is this time, too.”

  “Hopefully?” I stared at him.

  “If all the conjurer wants is a fat bank account, it’d be easy enough to accomplish. Then we can hope Vadim would be released after he has complied.”

  I realised Zayne made it sound simple for my benefit. Still, the hope of having Vadim back soon calmed me somewhat.

  “I thought there wasn’t anyone left who’d know how to perform the ritual.”

  “People die, but their knowledge is preserved in books. Someone must have gotten a hold of one and figured out how to use that knowledge.” He glanced at Vadim’s struggling body. “Someone who seems to know what he is doing, too. How long has it been?”

  “Just a few minutes. At least that’s when I woke up from his groan.”

  “All we can do is wait now.”

  “How long?” I asked, although I knew that Zayne had no answer to this question. No one did.

  I rocked in bed, holding Vadim to me.

  “He is a powerful demon,” Zayne said, his voice turning soft and comforting. “Strong and smart. He’ll fight for as long as it takes for the summoner to make a mistake, and I have no doubt he’ll use the chance once the error is made.”

  “What can I do to help him?”

  “Nothing. Just be here when he returns.”

  VALEFOR

  Pain burned, slashed, and twisted his essence. Though he had no physical body to feel it, the agony seared through his soul, and there was no escape from it.

  “Deditionem . . .” chanted the conjuror, every word of the litany a slash of a fiery dagger that felt like it would cut him to pieces. “Vestre dominum . . .”

  His physical body never tired. The ethereal spirit was all he had control of at that moment, though, and it was worn out after hours and hours of resisting the spells that held him captive.

  Desperate to escape the lashes of pain, he lurched up, only to be slashed by more chants, every word a razor-sharp arrow cutting through him, forcing him to stay put.

  “Daemonium . . .” Demon.

  But that wasn’t all he was. Somewhere, he remembered, in another world, he was a man. She saw him as a man.

  The distant memory of that place, near her, was what gave him the strength to keep fighting.

  His place was not here.

  With everything he had left, he forced himself to strike against the power holding him. Ignoring the pain, he launched towards freedom.

  “Hold him.” A firm command came from somewhere outside the circle he was confined to.

  “Deditionem . . .” Sounded louder, with more force.

  Surrender . . .

  The impact of the words crushed him, depriving him of the strength to fight.

  Beaten, weakened, and torn. Tossed around inside the prison of the circle and the pentagram.

  Held in place by the chants the conjurer kept throwing at him in Latin.

  All he had left was his will to go on, the burning desire for freedom, to be with her. And he clung to that desire like to a lifeline.

  Chapter 28

  IT WAS THE EARLY MORNING of day three of Vadim being essentially gone. His body was here—tense and obviously in pain, but visibly intact.

  His spirit, or demonic essence, as Zayne had called it, was elsewhere. And without it, my man could never be whole. Split apart, frozen in time, and suspended in his existence, it must have been worse than being dead.

  After hours of holding him to me, rocking in bed, begging any higher power that might be out there to release him from this torment, I finally gave in to Zayne’s pleas to get up, get changed, and have some of the food they had made for me.

  There was no way I would go far from Vadim, though. I left a message for Harry, letting him know I was not going to work that day, possibly not that week either. With less than two weeks before our office closed for good, the last days were supposed to be spent on closing any legal contracts still outstanding and liquidating whatever assets we had.

  Despite having his assistants, I knew Harry could always use my help, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Vadim, even for a moment.

  Sitting on the bed next to him, I held his hand. Watching his beautiful face contort with agony and his strong, powerful body bend and twist under the will of a stranger killed me. The helplessness I felt was crushing.

  “Talk to him,” Zayne had said earlier.

  “Why? You told me he can’t hear me. He is not here.”

  “Not for him, for you. Talk to him to distract from the thought of what he is going through. You’re driving yourself insane.”

  I had scoffed at Zayne then. Who cared about my thoughts and what they did to me if Vadim was the one who was really suffering?

  Now, I could no longer stand to sit idly by him, doing nothing.

  The pain of him being this close yet worlds apart was unbearable. Suddenly, words seemed like the only connection I could build between us.

  “Vadim.” I lay in bed next to him, ignoring the waves of disturbing convulsions raging through his body, and focused on the familiar things instead—the warmth of his skin under my hands, the scent of him all around me, the feeling of comfort and safety I always had when being close to him. “I miss you, baby,” I whispered, my throat all but closing with pain. “You see, the thing is, I need you with me. I no longer know how to be happy without you.”

  The full meaning of that rushed me. It was the truth.

  Being forced to part with him for almost three days now showed me how miserable I’d be without him when I moved to another country.

  I had thought I’d be ready to leave him in just under two weeks time, never to see him again. I had made myself believe it was for our mutual benefit to part.

  My heart, however, refused to be without him.

  Even if I tore myself away from him, moved a thousand kilometres, and forced my life to go on, without him, I knew I would never be truly happy again.

  “I need you, baby. Right here, with me. Always.”

  Holding his face between my hands, I kissed his pale, firm lips, putting the full power of the longing I felt into this kiss and in my words.

  “Come back to me, Vadim.”

  VALEFOR

  Chant after chant, the words brought him lower to his knees. His power shrivelled under the pain, his spirit had shrunk. Any light inside him had been reduced to nothing.

  “Vestre dominum . . .” Surrender to your master. Came the order, impossible to disobey, for he had nothing left to fight it with.

  “Tell him who his master is. Now.” Came the imperious voice from outside of the circle.

  Through the immobilizing web of chants, he strained his awareness to focus on his surroundings. The reality outside of his prison seemed more like a dream compared to the sharp pain inside, still he tried to absorb the images that flashed through the red fog of his vision.

  The pentagram drawn in blood on the stone floor—fresh human blood glowing red and drawing him in like a magnet with no means to escape.

  A high dome above, with ceiling caved in in the middle. The sky outside mocking him with the promise of freedom.

  The circle of robe-clad monks, all holding hands to keep him inside.

  The conjurer, his new master, standing just outside the circle, wrapping long chants around him, chaining the demon to himself.

  And one other, by the wall, giving the orders. The true master here.
His voice and face so familiar.

  He’d seen this man many times before, talked to him, shook hands with him. The man never used to wear the robe he was wearing now, only a suit, still Valefor recognized him.

  This was his master. The one to dictate all his actions from now on, because he was his demon now.

  ‘Come back to me, Vadim . . .’ The feminine voice, filled with longing, flew in with the breeze through the gaping ceiling and reached for him. Soft and delicate, it carried the power stronger than the conjurer could ever muster.

  The pull of the call was unstoppable, drawing him in, up to the light, fresh air, and freedom.

  Her claim carried the only order he could obey from now on. And he willingly surrendered to it, without a fight.

  He could never be anyone’s demon—he already belonged to her, his body and his spirit.

  “You are no master to me!” The words shot through him and out into the room, reverberating against the worn, stone walls under the dome.

  The chants lost their power, the fiery words scattered off him like embers, setting him free.

  The ring of monks wavered, as he lunged at them again. This time he easily incinerated one of them, breaking the circle.

  “I already have a Mistress!”

  Chapter 29

  VADIM’S BODY STIFFENED in my arms with another wave of ominous shudders then unexpectedly slumped to the mattress, as if life had left him all at once.

  “Vadim!” I grabbed his shoulders, afraid to think what this sudden change could mean.

  Did he lose?

  Was he gone?

  “Zayne!” I called again, forcing the panic down.

  “What? Zayne?” Vadim’s voice was harsh and rough—words slurred, as if he were talking with a mouth full of sand—still, it was his voice.

  “Baby? Can you hear me?”

  “Why Zayne?” He lifted his arms and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. His movements jerky, still he was obviously in control of his body once again.

  “Oh my God!” I climbed to my knees at his side. “Vadim?”