When DC poofed back into the tattoo on my wrist, I should’ve realized something was up, but I was more focused on finding the kitchen. I turned the corner and plowed into a very hard chest. Rock hard. My gaze traveled upward until I found myself staring into Joachim’s silvery eyes. My face scrunched up in chagrin and I wanted to disappear too. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why would you think that?”
“I sort of didn’t ask permission to leave my room. Or to explore the castle. It was rude of me to leave without asking you first, but my curiosity got the better of me. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
One silvery white eyebrow rose. “You look different—in a good way, of course. You also don’t need to ask permission. You belong here, Willow. This is your home now.”
I hiccupped a sob, and the emotional baggage I’d carried around inside me spilled out before I could stop it. I had waited so very long to hear those words. Not to have heard them from my parents, though, was bittersweet.
Everything will work out, maybe just not as you anticipate. It never does, DC purred.
Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t ask about your ordeal sooner. I dropped my head and slowly wiped my face, hoping Joachim wouldn’t notice my tears or see my blank expression when I talked to DC. The last thing I needed was for him to think I’d gone bonkers on top of everything else. Well, any more than I already was.
I suffered terribly. Stupid soul whores. Don’t they know better than to put imps with demon cats? It was torture!
That was the whole point. I wiped my face one final time but continued to stare at my feet.
Since you were worried, I will try and forget about it. Optimal word, of course, is try. Don’t be surprised if I bring it up again.
Riiighht.
The Watcher King is looking at you funny—like he sucked on a pickle.
Great. I get that a lot lately. He probably thinks I’m the weirdest person in the kingdom and definitely regrets offering me my father’s job. I took a deep breath and peeked back up at him.
“I’m sorry,” I stuttered, hoping I hadn’t made too big a fool out of myself.
“Do not be ashamed of or ever apologize for your feelings, Willow.” Joachim sighed. “It is not too late to back out. You don’t have to do this. It is still possible for you to return to the way you were.”
“Wait—what? What are you talking about? Two seconds ago you told me I belonged here and now you don’t want me to stay?”
Now it was Joachim’s turn to look confused. “You wish to be here? I thought your tears meant you regretted your decision to take your father’s place.”
I shook my head, noticing the weird way my hair bounced around my shoulders. I dragged my attention back where it belonged. “That’s not it at all, Joachim. I’ve waited a long time for one thing—well, two things—a family and a home. I want to be accepted for who I am, weirdness and all. When you said I belonged . . . It’s just no one has ever said that to me before. I’m used to people wanting to get rid of me as fast as they could.”
“I do not know how I should feel about that.”
I patted him on the arm—his very muscled arm. I thought of Malachi. “It’s okay. Feelings were never my strong suit either. I do have a question for you. Actually, two questions. First, why has my appearance changed? And really, wings? I also would like to know more about the Fallen, their history and, well, Malachi. I’ve been thinking about how he started getting sick and when.”
Joachim arched both brows this time. “What’s wrong with wings? All Watchers have them. They can come in handy. When you agreed to honor your father’s wishes and become a Watcher, you took on more of his features. Your face is still the same. You are as beautiful as your mother, yet you now have more of your father’s coloring. What do you want to know about the Fallen?”
“Can you tell me who exactly the Fallen are and what they do here?”
“I am surprised Malachi didn’t explain this to you already.”
“I guess he never found the right moment.” I pressed against my stomach, stopping the growl.
“I will attempt to answer all your questions. But first, follow me to the kitchen. We will talk over dinner, which is why I was on my way to your room. I could hear your stomach growling all over the castle.”
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” I muttered.
~ ~ ~
Malachi, Tarja’s camp
The stench overwhelmed my nostrils as the vampyre fixated on me. I pulled against the spell-enhanced chains binding my depleted body to the chair. Tarja needn’t have bothered when she ensorcelled the chains against me. As weak as I was, a piece of string would’ve held me like iron. Fear for Willow and her safety burned through my chest.
Some warrior I turned out to be. She will never trust me to protect her again.
There was something very wrong with the vampyre. My gaze followed every movement the inebriated guy made. If he truly was a vampyre; I couldn’t quite decide. Tarja’s teeth and nails had scored dozens of deep furrows over my body. Blood had congealed on the wounds, and even more covered my skin. If the weird little dude was a vamp, he should have been trying to tear me apart in a feeding frenzy. Instead, the goon stood several feet away, staring at me with puppy dog eyes. It creeped me out.
The man’s unblinking crimson gaze filled me with an unsettled jittery sensation, as if someone had just walked over my grave. The only time he glanced away was when a familiar-looking imp popped into the room, holding a crystal goblet filled to the brim with an iridescent pink liquid. I’d lost count of the number of times this scene played out, but every hour, the imp arrived with glass in hand.
Finally, my curiosity got the better of me. “What’s in the cup?” I watched as the vamp stared down at the liquid. Slowly, he raised the rim to his lips and sipped.
The vamp’s weird blood-red gaze trapped mine again. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“Do you truly wish to know, Fallen One? Do you wish to share?” The vamp’s sensual voice oozed into my mind, making me want to hurl.
I licked my lips, my swollen tongue rasping the split skin like sandpaper. Saliva was nonexistent. I couldn’t swallow if I’d wanted to. I shook my head. If I took even a tiny sip of the bloody cocktail, I would lose any chance for redemption. “Since when did your kind stop drinking blood?”
“They didn’t. My lovely friend there is enjoying a special drink that seems to be agreeing with him, don’t you think?” Tarja’s sultry voice whispered in my ear. “I’m quite proud of our little experiment. He’s only half-vamp now.” She kissed my bloody cheek, tonguing her way from the rough stubble covering my jaw up to my temple. With my chin firmly held in her grip, she turned my face toward the other man. Pressing her cheek against mine, she asked, “Jealous, Lover?”
“I am not your lover, Tarja.” The vamp grinned back, his fangs a brilliant white and extra sharp. “But I will gladly be his.”
From the heat emanating from my face, I knew my normally ruddy skin now flamed a deep crimson. “What the hell?” I bellowed, glaring daggers at the vamp.
Tarja dropped her hand and stepped forward, linking her arm through the vampyre’s. “Malachi, meet Rafi. As I was saying, Rafi is only half vampyre.”
“And his other half?”
“Incubus.” She preened.
“Oh, Hell’s Bells.” Could this situation get any worse? A bad feeling built in the pit of my stomach. Historically, vamps were voracious blood drinkers, but incubi devoured souls. Female souls. Why act interested in me? At least now I knew what the pale pink liquid was—a cocktail of souls and blood. But how often did a, whatever the hell Rafi was, need a soul fix? And where was he getting them? I had too many questions with no answers and, in frustration, strained against the tight bonds again.
The need to escape escalated to a new level.
“Poor Malachi,” Tarja crooned. “No longer the big, strong leader. The Fallen has indeed—fallen.” She cackled, Rafi’s deep laughter joining hers.
I growled in frustration and anger. “Whatever your agenda, soul eaters, you will fail. Lucien and Joachim will never quit fighting you.”
Their laughter stopped, but my words did little to sway them from their gloating.
“Had Gisele stayed in power, you would probably be right. Her narcissism knew no bounds and was her undoing. Ultimately, it would have caused ours too.” She smoothed the silky material of her dress, its severe cut accentuating every curve and valley of her voluptuous figure. She struck a pose, the perfect imitation of a Greek statue. Immediately, the same familiar black imp appeared and handed her an identical rose-tinted crystal wine glass.
My gaze narrowed in on the imp, trying to place him. The reprobate turned his beady eyes on me and, like a smack in the face, I knew where I’d seen him before. It was the imp Willow called a bloated tick. At least it had been her description of him. The imp sneered at me. If he was here . . .
I now understood why we were always a step behind Tarja’s mayhem.
Willow’s scowling face appeared in my mind. Gods, but I’d give about anything to be by her side. She was spunky and fierce and never, ever boring. I missed her, especially her incessant talking. Holding myself very still, I closed my eyes. How had I missed what my heart had been trying to tell me since I’d met Willow? I loved her.
The most beautiful feeling, pure and wonderful, filled my heart as hope blossomed. I hadn’t felt God’s touch in such a long time, my soul was ravenous as it soaked up His glorious spirit, flooding me with much-needed hope.
Tarja sashayed toward me, glass in hand. Her lethal, black nails painted a morbid yet beautiful contrast to the pink liquid. She artfully arranged herself across my lap, wrapping her free arm around my shoulders. “Such a pity, really. The perfect male specimen withering away to nothing. An empty shell of what you once were.” With her hand still wrapped around the glass, she pointed her finger and traced it along the contours of my cheek and over my lips.
Without warning, I opened my mouth and clamped down on her finger. Thankfully, jaw strength had little to do with my current weakness, and I continued to tear through her tender flesh, snapping the thin bone with my teeth. When she torpedoed off my lap, I spat out her finger as her pained cry turned to an angry wail. Rafi merely continued laughing.
Her furious glare nailed mine. “You will pay for that, Malachi. At this very moment, your precious Willow is with Joachim in the North Castle. And thanks to our new leader, we are close to breaking through the protection wards there. Like we did at the Bastille and the Demon Castle.”
She held out her wounded hand, pretending to examine her manicure, the only hint of anger showing in the flare of her nostrils. “I think I will pay your girlfriend another little visit and see how she’s doing since her daddy’s untimely death.”
“Tarja, leave Willow alone. This is between you and me.” I kept my voice hard.
Rafi stepped behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The air around them thickened and turned hazy. Their laughter echoed around the room as they seemed to dissolve within the unnatural mist surrounding them.
“Tarja, damn you. Leave Willow out of this. Do you hear me? Leave her alone!” In the small prison, my frantic screaming finally drowned out the echoes of their laughter.
Willow? Answer me. I waited, praying she would respond. I needed to warn her about Tarja, warn her about what was coming for her.
The seconds ticked by. Willow? Willow!
Chapter 21
Willow, North Castle
Wiping my mouth, I set my empty plate on the serving tray and patted my middle. “I think I ate too much.” In response, my stomach gurgled in a valiant attempt to digest the food I’d inhaled.
Joachim smiled at me. “You seemed to enjoy the food. What you tasted at least.”
I stared at him, mortified at how I must have looked, shoveling bite after bite into my mouth. He pressed his lips together, I could only assume to hold back his laughter. No one had ever accused me of being a lady.
The longer I stared, the more I noticed in the flickering light from the blazing fire of the huge oven on the far side of the room, how his skin subtly glistened. As if he’d been dunked in a vat of liquid pewter.
What is it with the men in these realms?
“Now that you’ve finished . . . uh, eating, what would you like to know?”
“Can you tell me how exactly Malachi is tied to the Nightmare Realm?” I waited, but after a minute of total silence, I began to wonder if he knew the answer. One blink, then another blink. More silence. I frowned at him. “Look, I’m not asking you to spill all the secrets of the universe here. It’s more or less a simple answer.”
“We definitely need to work on your patience, don’t we? Your question only surprised me for a moment.”
“Closer to ten moments, but who’s counting,” I grumbled. A bit louder, I added, “Sorry.”
His wayward brow moved to its favorite spot on his forehead. “A lot of work.” Tipping back in his seat, he lifted the cape that I now knew was actually wings, dropping it over the chair’s high back.
“You asked about the Fallen. I will answer that first. Humans know them as archangels. They were God’s chosen and were punished for an unforgivable sin.”
A lightbulb popped on in my head. “You’re talking about the story of the Nephilim?”
His eyes widened. “Very good. The Nephilim—giants born to human women—were the results of those archangels’ sins.” He held up his hand. “Before you ask, only God and each Fallen know his own sin. The choice to tell you is Malachi’s alone. I do not know what his sin was.”
“I enjoyed Sunday School. I wasn’t able to attend as much as I wanted but going made me feel better about all the bad stuff happening in my own life.” Disappointment blossomed. I’d hoped Joachim knew Malachi’s story.
The sharp angles of his face softened for a heartbeat before morphing back to his normal stoic expression. “That is good. As for Malachi, not many people pick up on the fact he is tied to the realm. His life force dies with each unpunished sin. I don’t know if even he has a clear understanding of how the system works. As a Watcher, you will need to know all of what I’m about to tell you, but due to the lack of time, I’m condensing it into a crash course.”
“Goody. Hope you grade on a steep curve.” Something deep inside me shifted. The movement was subtle and enveloped my entire being, but I held down the scream trying to rip its way upward. I refused to believe the brave demon I’d grown so fond of, a giant in both stature and strength, would die.
Malachi was an amazing person who had breached my defenses and had somehow taken over my heart. My newfound knowledge was both inspiring and depressing at the same time. I wanted—no, needed—to tell him I loved him.
My confusion, about what I’d been thrown in the middle of and about Dark World, had increased, but I wasn’t scared anymore. Now wasn’t the time to dissect my revelation, so I filed it away to think about later when I was alone. For now I forced myself to respond to Joachim’s last statement, but my mind wanted to be a million miles away.
Another thought popped into my head. “Do I have to pass a test when you’re through imparting your knowledge?” I wanted to kick myself. I really needed to invest in a muzzle, although it probably wouldn’t be enough to stop me from saying the first thing that popped into my head either.
His silver gaze met mine, and I got the distinct impression he wasn’t happy with my standard quirks.
“Not a written one.”
I noticed the subtle glimmer of amusement in his gaze and groaned in fake agony as I rol
led my eyes. “Oh, you’re good.” Surprisingly, Joachim had a sense of humor.
Joachim continued the lesson. “As in every society, there are lower beings who keep eyes on everyone around them. Informants, if you will.”
I nodded. “Snitches.” So far, so good. Level one done.
“Next are those who enforce the laws in each realm, not just Dark World, but in all planes of existence.”
“You mean the entire universe.”
“There are many planes of existence and even more universes, Willow.”
My new boss had poked a hole in my newly discovered pride, but it didn’t stop my enthusiasm. I’d just been handed the answer to one of life’s biggest mysteries. How awesome is that? “Seriously? There are more worlds out there? How many?”
He shook his head. “Not even I know the answer, little warrior.”
He’d just said it again. Little warrior. What my dad had called me. Now that I knew Joachim better, I didn’t mind hearing him say it as much as I had earlier. As I mulled over this revelation, I twirled my father’s signet ring around my finger, thankful he had let me keep it. It was the only thing of him I had left.
“What’s next on this condensed syllabus of yours?”
“The next level falls to those who judge the sinners and decide the proper punishments.”
“Like a trial with a judge and jury?”
“Exactly.”
“Are all of the realms set up with the same hierarchies?”
Saved by the Spell (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 2) Page 21
