Love Spell in London

by Shereen Vedam

  No sign of Grace or Ifan or the hounds. The monsters they had ejected from the upper world were also absent. Smart. Never a good idea to linger outdoors in one spot in the underworld. He, too, made himself invisible before racing in the opposite direction to where he had ordered Ifan and his hellhounds to escort Grace.

  He was not worried about the Coven Protectress coming after them. She was powerful and fully capable of opening an underworld gate into this realm, but she would not know where to find Dewer. Also, unlike the delightfully defiant witch Grace was becoming, Merryn was staunchly loyal to her coven. First, she would report this disaster to them. Those wise women would discourage a blind search in the underworld, for who knew where Merryn’s gate might open up. As such, he and Grace had a little time to engineer Jonas’s rescue. He also had time enough to deal with Adramelech.

  The arch demon would not take the closure of his gate into the upper world with a nonchalant shrug. He would seek revenge on the perpetrator, if for no other reason than to save face before his master. Dewer had no intention of leading Adramelech straight to where he had secreted Grace. The demon needed a distraction. The trick would be to stay alive in the process so he could get back to Grace and their mission to rescue Jonas. Then it would be time to deal with his mother.

  As he travelled, he realized that this region was vaguely familiar. He had come through here once before, after escaping from Adramelech’s prison. Dewer kept the mountains to his back and walked toward the horizon in the distance where a hazy shimmer promised an ocean on far ahead. Another illusion, like the image of the sun shining overhead.

  The scenery grew lusher until the surrounding land became an undulating sea of green. He might have been fooled into thinking he was home in Wales, if not for the tropical trees peppering the landscape. Then, at regular intervals, statues began to appear of tall well-endowed winged men with boar faces, each one enclosed in glass and gold.

  Musters of wild peahens and peacocks were also prevalent, screeching their alien-sounding calls. Adramelech’s favorite birds. He was definitely close to the demon’s stronghold.

  Dewer reached a white marble statue that was so tall, the statue’s head was hidden by clouds. He stopped here, for the proud demon was most likely to be found closest to this statue that he no doubt believed best depicted his grand stature.

  “Good day, Adramelech,” he said and waited for the arch demon to reveal himself.

  The light dimmed. The first sign that Dewer’s words had registered. In the darkness, a buzzing sounded heralding the arrival of hornets. Dewer’s nape twitched. He squashed that fearful reaction. He was no longer a child to be frightened by monsters. Even giant flying ones with stingers the size of elephant tusks that he couldn’t see.

  IN THE MOMENT OF TRANSPORT between the upper world and this one, as lights flashed by so fast, they seemed like streaks instead of dots, Grace took hold of Dewer’s hand and revealed Jonas’s whereabouts.

  As she spoke, his flirtatious gaze transformed into a steely-eyed glare. The information had been a shock. His surprise was proof enough that he was innocent in having played any part in this villainy. Not that she needed further corroboration. She now completely trusted Dewer. He was not the man Merryn, her mother, and Grace’s coven proclaimed him to be. One day she would prove it to them.

  For now, Grace did not envy what his mother would face the next time those two met.

  In no time at all, she landed in the underworld but Dewer was no longer beside her. Her hand was cold and empty without his curled comfortingly around her palm. Wherever he had gone, she was certain he would return soon, but staying where she had been dropped off couldn’t be safe, not alone.

  At least the hounds had chosen to stay with her instead of slinking after their elusive master. As had her mount. They travelled in silence through a lonely, desolate landscape. Was there any life here but them? There was a sun overhead but it did not warm her. Her surroundings were like a pastoral painting, visible, but not real. Where were the birds, the animals and the clouds?

  A rustle of leaves in the bushes to her left was the first indication that something approached. Likely trouble. Grace urged Ifan to go faster just as an angry bellow sounded behind.

  A glance over her shoulder showed a monstrosity lumber out of the bushes, its multiple limbs thick enough to crush trees. It raised a trunk and called to them before following in their wake. That was all the impetus Ifan needed. They sped away with the horse’s ears twitching back to listen for pursuit.

  The two hellhounds, who could easily have shown Ifan and Grace their tails disappearing over the horizon, instead changed their pace. Farfur hung back to protect their rear, while Bartos raced ahead to counter upcoming danger.

  In no time at all, they had lost track of the many-limbed hulking creature whose enraged bellow echoed in the wind far behind them.

  Grace slowed Ifan but kept him moving, giving him time to catch his breath. Herself, too, but not for long. More creatures came, ones that were faster, but the hellhounds’ bested every attempt. Grace did not even have to fire a shot of power from her staff.

  Eventually, word must have spread to the creatures in hiding watching their passage that this party was not easy prey, for the attacks slowed and then stopped. Her surroundings took on the semblance of peace and Grace shivered, remembering Dewer’s warning after he kissed her. In the underworld, a sense of harmony was always a sign that a trap had been set. Mistrusting her senses, Grace gripped her staff in white-knuckled readiness.

  Ifan, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his danger. Only strong words and a firm hold on his reins ensured he did not nibble the delicate leaves and tall grasses tempting him along their path. If he ate from this realm, he might never return home.

  This was a worry she carried about Jonas, too. She had secreted a fruit from the upper world and hoped eating it might mitigate some of the effects living here might have had on her cousin. Finding Jonas, she was certain she could accomplish. Bringing him safely home might prove trickier.

  Having Dewer assist her, a powerful warlock who once called this realm his home, would have gone a long way to calm that last worry.

  Where was he? What could be keeping him?

  Chapter 12

  “ALFRED, WAKE UP! YOU are in serious trouble.”

  Alfred, recently demoted to one of Death’s lowest-rated envoys, sat up in bed, his bones rattling in alarm. His friend and fellow envoy, Ethel, stood by his bedside, her body fully fleshed and even dressed, with not a bare bone in sight.

  He glanced at the end table to check if his stone tablet was blinking a warning. Death loved to color code his messages and it always activated with a red glare when his master was displeased. The tablet looked as lifeless as a piece of granite. A shiver of dread made Alfred’s ribs tremble and he cringed at that visible show of anxiety about his tablet’s continued malfunction. Sooner or later, he would have to take it back to inventory and ask for a replacement.

  To take his mind off that upcoming humiliating request, he went on the offensive. “Do you mind? If I rushed into your bedchamber unannounced, you would send my bones scattering to the four corners of Britain.”

  Ethel had the grace to blush. “This is an emergency.”

  The pink flashing across her cheeks reminded Alfred that he was still in his skeletal form. He pulled his crumpled bed sheet up from the bottom of his bed and snuggled down.

  “Do not go back to sleep,” Ethel warned. “I have little time to waste.”

  “What’s the rush?” Alfred grumbled and sat up, shrugging on his dressing robe before getting out of bed.

  “Trouble brews in London and I have to get back. A love spell is wreaking havoc in Town. Bar fights are breaking out over jealousies and duels are on the rise. There are many lost souls awaiting collection.”

  “What did I do to tear you away from all that?”

  “Alfred, did you really inform Miss Adair that her cousin is being held in the underworld?
Why?”

  “It is your fault. You said that if I wished to court the water goddess, I should present myself in a positive light to the lady. Since Mistress Llyn wished to please Miss Adair for helping her father, this seemed a good way to win her favor.”

  “Miss Adair dying in the underworld is hardly the sensible way to win favor with the water goddess.”

  “I expect she will ask her cousin to do the rescue,” he said, but worry had him hunting for his slippers. They were not beside the bed.

  “Miss Adair is not sending the Coven Protectress. She has entered this realm herself, with Devlin Chase Dewer.”

  Alfred straightened from peering under the bed. “Even better. He knows all the good hiding places around here. He will keep her safe.”

  “Do you think so, Alfred?” Ethel asked in that tone he labelled as supreme sarcasm. She reserved that tone for when he said something especially idiotic.

  “He loves her.” Alfred was fairly certain that was true.

  “He has sent her to his mother’s house.”

  The news grew worse with every word. He could barely get his next question out. “Why would he do that?” Dewer did not know where Jonas Pendraven was being held. Did he?

  “Because, unlike us, Dewer is a hopeless optimist and believes, if push comes to shove, his mother would side with him if he needs help protecting the woman he loves.”

  Panic settled in him and giving up on his slippers, he ran to collect his day clothes, robe and scythe.

  Ethel followed him like a dog on a scent, carrying on about the danger Miss Adair was likely to face. As if Alfred was unaware of that fact. He had collected far too many souls from Queen Eolonde’s premises to know she brooked few fools.

  There, under the reading table, were his slippers, and right beside them, his black boots. It felt good to focus on the mundane. Better that than the disaster looming of the imminent arrival of Miss Adair in the queen’s private abode. Her Majesty’s reaction to that offense could set off all manner of alarms, not to mention an increase in the number of souls to collect, which was sure to get back to his master.

  If Death found out Alfred had interfered in earthly affairs, his tablet would not be the only thing broken.

  Ethel swung him around. “Alfred!”

  He glanced at her glumly, hugging his boots. “What?”

  “You have to save her.”

  “I will try. I promise.” His afterlife might depend on it.

  “Trying is not good enough.” Ethel’s grim tone reminded him of Death in a bad mood. “That is why I am here. Word has come from on high that Miss Adair is needed to defeat the darkness polluting Britain’s waters. It is imperative that you ensure she returns home safely. The future of all of England, perhaps even the world, might depend on it.”

  “But...”

  “Good luck, my friend.” With a quick kiss on his cheekbone, she vanished back up to the upper world.

  Alfred stood perfectly still, stunned that not only might his extra-curricular activity be on the verge of being revealed to his master, but the Creator, too, was concerned about the matter. A boot slipped out of his trembling finger bones and dropped to the floor with a loud, thud.

  WHEN IT FINALLY GREW lighter, Dewer found himself inside a walled complex with soaring towers. A tropical garden nearby had an oasis at its center where naked nymphs bathed. Most unnerving of all, those women held a striking resemblance to Dewer’s mother. Cocky demon.

  On the surrounding walls, hornets rested like yellow-striped gargoyles. The only sign of life: their wings fluttering rapidly and creating that unnerving buzzing. He had to give this demon his due; Adramelech knew how to instill terror in his victims. Dewer’s heart was beating as rapidly as those hornet wings, and his tension was so high strung, he might be buzzing just as loud.

  Dewer had no idea if he had been transported back into this hellhole of a palace, or if Adramelech had brought his demon-inspired home to Dewer’s location. In either case, the place was all too eerily familiar. He had spent months of his youth held prisoner inside this demon’s dungeon below this courtyard.

  With difficulty, he focused on the matter at hand. Opening a gateway into the upper realm could not have been an easy task. Nor one for a demon to undertake without permission from the Lord of the Dark who ruled this realm.

  “You had Lucifer’s blessing on this venture, did you?”

  “You were always such a clever little boy,” a deep voice murmured. Adramelech finally made his appearance in all his shocking glory, standing as naked as his statue, and as dark as that monstrosity had appeared white. A blatant show of his power. “What I want to know is why did you bring a witch home with you, Devil?”

  Every nerve ending in Dewer sparked with rage mixed with terror. Adramelech knew he hated being called by his mother’s favorite endearment. Worse still, was discovering that Adramelech had noticed Grace’s entrance into this world. Did he know where Dewer sent her as well?

  No! He could not have her. Else, the proud demon would have been showing off his prize.

  “We are here on my mother’s business,” Dewer said. Half-truths were this realm’s main currency.

  The arch demon paused, as if considering his options. “What kind of business? Perhaps I can be of service.”

  Dewer disguised his snort of disbelief as a cough. “Not necessary. Time is of the essence, so I shall bid you good day.”

  “Ah, but I cannot allow you to leave so soon, Devil.” The demon shook his head as if in entreaty. “You must stay and share a meal with me. You have been gone a long while. In fact, it might be better if you spent a day. Or two.” Adramelech pointed a finger to his hornets. “Delay him.”

  The hornets rose into the air and circled, cutting off the last means of Dewer’s escape, the sky above.

  This was his mother’s worst nightmare. That in any confrontation with this demon, Adramelech would always best her son. Though professing to love him, she lacked faith that he was capable of fending for himself. Or defeating this demon.

  A hornet flew in for a fake strike at his right. Dewer jerked back and then ducked and rolled in time to avoid a second and third attack at his back. That had been one of the hornet’s favorite ploys when Dewer was a child. They should know he had a good memory.

  He tapped his staff as he rolled to his feet. The attacks would come fast and furious from this point. Past experience warned he could not avoid all of them. He mind-spoke to the water god. “Prepare a waterjet, full strength.”

  Adramelech sat back on his invisible chair high above the melee as if preparing to be entertained. “I have missed our little skirmishes, Devil. We are going to have a lot of fun in the next few days.”

  “Another time perhaps,” Dewer said.

  Three hornets came at him at once. He fended them off with his staff, adding a vindictive additional command to the water god. “Make that heated water.”

  Grace’s aversion to killing creatures, even ones that deserved it, put the brakes on his surging grudges. “Not fatal.”

  He swirled his staff above his head as power flowed through it, multiplying as it swept past the water god’s essence. He fired a steaming spray that slammed the nearest hornets against the palace walls with a satisfying crunch. The hot jet then struck the rear battalion, sending those giant hornet monsters screaming in agony as they stumbled into their fellows, into Adramelech, toppling him from his throne. The resultant cacophony drowned out their infernal buzzing.

  The arch demon was now too busy saving himself to follow Dewer to Grace, so Dewer slipped away, a satisfied smile teasing his lips.

  DEWER’S CONTINUED ABSENCE from Grace’s side was like a suddenly missing limb. When had he grown so important? Burrowed deeper into her soul than a close friend. Even closer than family.

  Since approaching marriageable age, Grace had wondered if she would ever feel so passionately consumed by a man that she would want to engage in a permanent binding with him. Witches mated for life
. It was a momentous occasion that involved a ritual in which the marriage ceremony to request the Creator’s blessing was merely the first step.

  Her mother had said selecting a man with whom she was comfortable with was enough. Grace fervently disagreed. She wanted to be swept off her feet, to be giddy in love, to expect the man she chose to feel as passionate about her.

  Never in her wildest imagination had she expected that man to be a warlock! Her mother completely disapproved of Dewer. Her coven reviled him. Yet, all that might change if they brought Jonas home, safe and sound.

  Despite his continued absence, Ifan appeared to instinctively know where to take her. Though Grace had professed to be capable of completing this journey on her own, as she leaped into Dewer’s black gate into the underworld knowing he would follow had bolstered her confidence.

  No, she saw him more than just her guide in this realm. She had trusted Dewer with her secret about Jonas and had willingly accompanied him into the underworld. That proved she was completely committed to this warlock and none other. Acknowledging that, made her growing love for Dewer swell to the surface. She could no longer keep her feelings hidden.

  “I want him!” she shouted out loud.

  Ifan nodded his head and neighed, as if he agreed wholeheartedly.

  With a joyous laugh, Grace tapped his hind quarters until they raced forward as if speeding toward a future with Dewer. Ifan’s hooves pounded, sending dirt flying in their wake. The hellhounds, with surprised yelps, bounded after them.

  In a flash, she recalled the moment when Dewer’s heart was breaking on the steps of Saint Agatha’s church. She had clung to a wounded Bartos then, refusing to allow the hound to limp back at his master’s command. Dewer’s gaze had turned to her, but not seen her. He flicked his hand as if in dismissal and left in a swirling tornado of fury.

  Her heart pounded as fast now as it had then. Not in fear, but with yearning. Ever since that initial meeting, Grace had been waiting, and wondering.