To see beauty and feel the happiness from good memories, knowing I would probably never experience those again, was a new torture. I shoved the gruesome memory of the tormented demon I’d watched die to the back of my mind, unable to handle the uncontrollable horror making my stomach turn topsy-turvy again. I stared at the nondescript, unchanging gray sky above me.
What had I done to deserve this? Defending my life shouldn’t be a sin. Or was it? Had my destiny been to die, and by fighting back, I’d cheated death?
“Why are there no clouds?” It was something I’d wondered since finding myself in this realm, and I needed to change my train of thought before I curled up in a ball and cried.
“Have you fainted before?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“No. Fainting is something new.” I couldn’t quite put my finger on whatever hovered at the edge of my awareness, but there was a subtle change. “Do you feel it?” I glanced around us. “The air isn’t as oppressive. The hopelessness I felt before is gone. I almost believe if I blinked, I’d be back in my dorm room, getting ready for class. As if all of this were a bad dream.” I met his gaze, filled with doubt and maybe even some confusion. “Don’t you feel it?”
Malachi continued to stare, slowly shaking his head. Confusion remained in his eyes. I squirmed around and faced him, his hand still firmly wrapped around mine. My reluctance to let go of the feeling of safety dissipated when I realized he’d called me by name. And it wasn’t the first time either. I jerked my hand away from his.
“Wait a minute. How did you know my name?” My question must have struck a nerve because his eyes turned black. Deep inside his pupils, tiny crimson sparks ignited and just as quickly faded. I should’ve been petrified, but I wasn’t. I blamed my exhaustion. I was simply too tired to care.
“The entire time I’ve been with you, you’ve never asked my name. I heard you say my name when you were trying to wake me up then again just now. It’s a simple question, Malachi. Go ahead and hurt me if you want. I just want to know how you knew my name.”
“Hurt you?” He stared at me in confusion. “Why would I do that?”
“Like the other demon or the succubus.”
“Other demon?”
I flinched at his hard, clipped tone. “Your eyes gave you away. Well, the eyes and your cute little horns. If you don’t want anyone knowing what you are, you need to control the flame-thing your eyes do when you get mad. You almost had me fooled until your Hershey chocolates turned as black as licorice and started glowing.”
“My what?” He furrowed his brows until they squished together, and I swore his top lip did an Elvis impersonation.
“Eyes.” I snickered. “Your brown eyes. They’re the same color as a chocolate bar.” I shrugged and leaned back on my arms. “It’s a thing I do to pass the time here. I think about my favorite foods. Kind of a mixture of torment and relief all rolled into one. It sure beats reliving the worst parts of my life.”
His expression never changed. After several minutes, I waved my hand in front of his face. “Yoo-hoo! Willow to Malachi, are you in there? Over.” Nothing. Now who was I supposed to ask about what just happened? He didn’t even flinch at my stupid humor. After several more minutes, my headache shifted back into overdrive. Of course, it probably had something to do with the repeated clenching of my teeth and jaws.
“Malachi!” I snapped my fingers a couple of times and finally thumped his nose. Hard. Still no response. His eyes remained blank. “You take absentmindedness to a new level, buddy,” I grumbled. “Such a waste, really. The first person I meet in this messed up place is a hunky male who’s crazier than I am.” My luck sucked.
I stared at his handsome face and realized this would probably be the only chance I’d get to properly give him and his delicious body a complete onceover. I threw myself into it, thoroughly enjoying my self-appointed task. I memorized the harsh planes of his face, from his wide-set eyes to his chiseled, aquiline nose and down to his square-cut chin. The muscles flaring from his neck and across his wide shoulders were clearly defined. Did demons lift weights?
My fingers itched to touch the wide expanse of his bare skin. Instead, I raised my hand and gently feathered my fingers over the heavy, silver chains crisscrossing his chest, the pads of my fingers tracing the entwined links. At the base of his ribcage, his hand wrapped around my wrist and jerked me away from the chain. My squeak registered a new octave level.
I met his gaze, dark and swirly but this time they were just the color of rich chocolate.
“Leave the chains alone.” His steely voice sliced through me.
“A bit touchy, aren’t we? What happened anyway? You were zoned.”
Instead of answering with his own barbed response, he stared at something behind me. His expression made my stomach tighten, reminding me of someone kneading a ball of dough. “Wh-What’s behind me?” I squeaked. Why did I always sound like I’d been inhaling helium around him?
Malachi’s dark eyes narrowed, and he dipped his head toward whatever held his attention. I guess I wasn’t turning fast enough because the weight from his two enormous hands pressed down on my shoulders as he whipped me around. The jolting movement made the gray world spin a few more times before slowing to a standstill, and I found out what Malachi had discovered.
Columns. Hundreds of the strange-looking columns dotted the valley floor below us.
My stomach settled. Thankfully, I wasn’t about to get axed from behind. The scene before me was a familiar one, the everyday backdrop of my current prison. The first time I’d seen the columns, they reminded me of a long-ago photo I’d seen in some educational magazine. Twisted and tortured, most of them bowed while others rose toward the heavens. The scene was a snapshot of a macabre dance party.
I shivered. They gave me the willies, especially now that I knew people were wrapped up inside them.
The valley wall was actually a steep incline, and we ended up sliding most of the way to the bottom. Malachi strode toward the nearest column, where the twisted cone had two thick branches jutting out. I realized the branches were actually arms.
An ear-piercing wail tore through the silence, and Malachi whirled around, sprinting toward the agonizing shrieks. I followed, knowing what he was going to find. Again.
At the far end of the column field, another monstrous demon writhed in agony. The large, bulbous head had wicked looking hooked tusks jutting from both the upper and lower jaws. Black hair bristled in every direction on his head and trailed down the center of his back.
“I don’t know what he did to be here, but no one should have to go through this,” I rasped. “Is there nothing we can do?”
The creature’s skin brightened to a brilliant red, bubbling like lava as he arched backward. His frantic screams rose in pitch, shredding my inner ears and bringing tears to my eyes. As quickly as it began, the screaming stopped. Hope built in my chest this one might be spared. We watched the demon’s enormous body freeze, finally sifting into a twisted but solid formation of gray concrete-like sand. My hope fizzled away as the remaining stillness left a crushing weight surrounding us and we stared at the newest addition to the valley’s family of columns.
Malachi’s gaze traveled from one column to the next. A kaleidoscope of emotions traipsed across his face. Closing his eyes, he slowly shook his head before opening them again. “These.” He swept his arm away from him in a wide arc. “These are all demons?”
“Not all. I’ve seen a few humans and other creatures—even a couple vampyres from the size of their fangs.”
“You’ve seen this before?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ve only seen a few die. Most of the time, I only hear a short squeal followed by a loud poof. I’m so turned around with the time here, but if I were to guess, the last time I came upon one in the process of dying was maybe within th
e last five days.”
He studied the sand demon. “But why? No one is supposed to die in this realm.”
“I figured turning into a huge pile of sand was the norm for this weirdo place.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Although I do pray with each nightmare, it doesn’t happen to me.”
I kept my distance while Malachi wandered through the valley of columns. He stopped to look at each one as he passed, his dark countenance growing blacker. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but for some reason his reaction bothered me. I’d never met anyone like him. He definitely had an impressive, if not imposing, presence. He was the strongest person I’d ever met, but right now he seemed hesitant. Almost fearful.
And it scared me.
I casually rubbed DC’s image on my wrist and grinned at her tiny scowl. She opened her mouth in a wide yawn, and I realized she’d been napping. “You sleep too much,” I whispered. “It isn’t fair. If I can’t sleep, you shouldn’t get to either.” I glanced up to see where Malachi was, making sure he couldn’t hear me talking to my wrist. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was crazy. I mean, I probably was crazy, but why should the only gorgeous guy in the vicinity think so too?
“There’s something different about him, isn’t there?”
Yes. He is one of the Fallen—not all demon. Only partly, the silky voice whispered in my mind.
“What do you mean by partly?” My eyes were glued to Malachi’s perfect back. I squashed the champagne bubbles partying in my stomach. For some strange reason, it only happened when I drooled over him. I always believed I had a cast-iron stomach, without much reaction to anything. But standing next to him, the thing danced a jig. Maybe I just needed to burp.
“Who are you talking to?”
I’d been so absorbed in my discussion with DC, my preoccupied brain missed the fact he’d stopped moving, but I hadn’t. Thankfully, I skittered to a stop before plowing into him again and said the first thing that popped into my head. “Talking to? Oh, no one. Just myself. I do it all the time.”
His unblinking stare told me he wasn’t buying my explanation.
“Fine.” I swallowed. “I was thinking about demons. I always thought they were, well, evil and hideous. Are there really beings so horrible?”
Malachi smiled. “Oh, there are definitely worse beings in the multiverse. Besides, I’m half demon.”
I took a quick step backward. DC was right. “But you’re nothing like Ahma . . . what I mean is, you’re good-looking and you seem . . . well, nice. Sometimes.” I forced my mouth closed, willing my tongue to take a break before I started hiccupping again from sheer humiliation.
His smile widened. “You think I’m good-looking?”
I planted my hands on my hips and stared at him in exasperation, all terror evaporating instantly. “Seriously? Out of everything I just said, you only heard the good-looking comment?”
He shrugged. “I hear the important parts.” Malachi turned and continued his trek while I held back a moment, needing DC’s reassurance.
DC? Are you still awake?
No.
How can you sleep in this godforsaken hellhole?
Yes, this is a good home, isn’t it? Her sigh ended in a loud snore.
I hadn’t gotten the reassurance I needed. I knew she didn’t understand how different our worlds were, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. I followed Malachi to the edge of this deathly valley. Drowning in my own thoughts, I came close to running into him again. I really needed to pay more attention to my surroundings, or I was going to need a serious nose job soon.
His wide-legged position—a warrior’s stance—looked as if he might leap into battle at any moment. The harsh lines etched into his face made me want to slowly back away. Instead, I stupidly stood beside him. One flick of his wrist and, like a fly, I would be a splotch on the closest column.
“This is all wrong,” Malachi muttered again. The intensity of his gaze bore tunnels into me. All I could do was stare back. “Stay here. I have to report this to Lucien.”
“Wait, who’s Luc—” He vanished in front of me, as if he’d never been there. I scraped my jaw off the ground. “DC, he just vanished. I mean, I saw Osiris and Sebastian do it, but I didn’t know them. How did he do that? This place keeps getting weirder and weirder.” I exhaled noisily. “I want to vanish too.”
I jerked back a step when DC’s one-dimensional ghost wavered in front of me for a second until she solidified on my shoulder. Giving her body a quick shake, her red fur puffed back to normal. With her tail anchored under my chin for support, she softly purred. I scratched the scruff of her neck, loving the closeness and uncaring the feeling came from a demon cat. “Feel better? And should you be out here? What if he comes back?”
I will sense his return.
“Really?” I turned my head and met her eerie gaze. “That’s cool. I think.” I gazed at the spot where Malachi had stood only moments before. I was surrounded by the strangest beings. My thoughts returned to the tusk man and I wondered if a cat was DC’s true form.
Did I really want to know?
The air thickened, and no matter how hard I inhaled, nothing passed through my nostrils. I closed my eyes, fighting an overwhelming urge to strike out wildly, but willed my arms and legs to stay where they were. I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I had to know what memory I faced this time.
The rundown roadside motel was all but abandoned. Above the office door, the flickering ‘T’ in the center of the ancient, neon motel sign was the only letter still trying to work. A sickly yellow light filtered through the torn curtains in the only occupied room as my stomach plummeted. Behind the closed door, I heard the scratchy wail of a saxophone as lonely notes burped and stuttered with each bounce of the record player’s needle on the warped vinyl record.
The hair on my body rose. I knew this place. I never wanted to remember this place. Had the door been open, I would’ve seen my foster father lying in a drunken stupor. From where I stood in the courtyard, I knew a half-filled, algae-choked swimming pool lay behind me. The memories of the murky black-green water made my stomach lurch into my throat.
I remained frozen, knowing if I turned, I would get a knife in my back. Literally. As if on cue, my foster mother flew through the motel room’s door, screaming at me. The force of her shove sent the door slamming into the rusted air-conditioning unit nestled underneath the torn curtains and knocking off some of the peeling pale blue paint from the siding.
Her usually perfect hair flew around her head, frizzy and wild. Her eyes, though, scared me the most. Even more so after I heard the expression, ‘eyes are windows to the soul.’
Her eyes only showed death.
Chapter 7
I hated to admit it, but my reaction to the oncoming threat was the same as it had been when I was seven. My arms flew out as I tried to keep the knife away from my body. In my terror-filled mind, I heard her shrill voice screaming horrible things, all kinds of insults and lies, but mostly—I was going to die.
During our scuffle, she tripped over my foot. Instead of reaching out to stop her backward fall, I pushed against her upper chest. My silent scream, that she would be the one to die, still echoed inside my head. Like it had that night.
I’d replayed those last few seconds in my head so many times, trying to figure out what really happened. The whole incident sped by too fast.
My hand never touched the knife. My arm did but that didn’t count. My gaze dropped to the bloody blade. The old scar on the back of my forearm burned in recognition. I absently rubbed the area and stared at her body. Silent in death, her sightless eyes stared up into the star-filled sky. Somehow, I just killed my foster mother. Again.
Following through with the memory, I kicked the offending knife into the pool’s putrid green water. Large, red drops o
f blood plopped onto the dirty cement as I got down on my hands and knees and pushed the body into the pool. For a few seconds she was a bright spot in the water, until her body’s dead weight pulled her under the scummy green surface. My last vision was her wide-open eyes, staring at me as her head turned, then the murky water covered her.
My brain felt fuzzy. So did my mouth, but I didn’t want to ponder it too much as I closed my eyes. As soon as my world quit pitching like a dinghy in a storm, I’d open them.
At least that was my plan until I heard his deep voice from far away, as if we were worlds apart. Strangely, I felt his strong arms wrapped around my shoulders.
“Willow, come on. Snap out of it. I can’t believe it takes this long to come out of a nightmare.”
I would have smiled if I could have controlled my muscles, but I couldn’t—at least not for the moment. I knelt on my hands and knees, just as I had been when peering down into the pool. “There’s nothing you can do. Just give me a moment.”
Something else had changed. Again. “This is getting really weird,” I muttered.
“What? What’s weird?”
My muscles finally decided to work, and my lips turned up at the sharp edge to his tone. “Normally, I’m all quivery, like a bowl of gelatin. This time, other than some stiffness, I feel normal.” Of course, I wasn’t about to mention what his hand, moving up and down my back, did to my insides. I opened my eyes and sat back on my heels. “Thank you.”
His dark brows puckered together. “But I didn’t do anything.” His hand never stopped rubbing my back, and I squashed the naughty squee pinging around my head. And other places.
“You did. You stopped the nightmare.”
He shook his head and dropped his hand. “I told you, I can’t—”
“Mr. Muscles!” a very feminine voice yelled.
Saved by the Spell (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 2) Page 7
