by Michele Hauf
I lifted a hand to control the air and keep the demon in one place. Containment was the easy part, as long as I focused.
Something rubbed against my ankle. I shook my foot, then realized what it was. “Star, no! Get back in the circle!”
The demon cloud did something unexpected. It tunneled above me, swiftly formed to a narrow, pointed column, and then shot directly toward me.
Kicking frantically, I managed to shove Star inside the circle—and the demon entered my body.
Chapter 8
Navicrux inhabited me. It spread like black sludge through every neuron pulsing in my being. Heavy and rancid, it brought me to my knees. It pushed against my bones, and I felt it spiral into my skull.
It wasn’t trying to assume control of my body, to move and talk through me. No, I realized with horrifying clarity it was instead trying to kill me—by shattering me.
I had practiced dark magic for so long my soul was tainted. So that made it easy for the demon to pull me into the darkness where I no doubt belonged.
Clasping my head, I squeezed against the brain-splitting pressure. I tried to summon a shackle spell, but my eyes shuttered and everything grew muzzy. I would not leave this mortal coil without a fight. Just…need…the spell.
Fingers fisting, my knuckles grazed the wood floor, unable to clutch or grasp the air, to form and control it. I had lost my…control. How to get it back?
Where…where was she? Struggling to maintain vision as my bones weakened inside my muscles, I looked toward the circle.
No cat.
No, Star. Where are you?
Abandon the spell!
Too late. Can’t…breathe. Skull is going to….
Sudden, slashing pain cut through my face and the side of my neck. Had my skull broken through flesh? Was I to die slowly, achingly experiencing every single bone tear through skin as the demon mastered this feeble shell?
Blood oozed down my cheek. And with the release of my blood, the air in the room sighed.
My fingers loosened and I caught myself in a slide onto the floor. I felt as if I’d been released and, in confirmation, I rolled to my back to spy once again the black demonic cloud above me.
My flesh must have been cut open and that had opened a passage to release the demon. It could not remain inside the body that was wounded, the receptacle of skin damaged.
Thrusting out a hand, I squeezed it to command the air and contain the demon with a vise about its loose form. “Where is the key to Daemonia?” I shouted.
The demon growled, its tone rumbling and yet open like a vast cavern. “There is no key. Release me, witch!”
“I bind thee! You are my slave until you fulfill my wishes!” I squeezed my fingers into a fist. Invoking the correct spell, I bound the demon to my will. “You know where the key is!”
“It is not in this realm.”
“But where?”
“In Daemonia. It is not an object but an invocation that must be used from within. Now release me!”
Holding the bind upon the demon firmly, I lay sprawled, supported on my elbows. Invoked from within? But how then would C.J. ever get out?
“You know how to use the key?”
“It requires a powerful witch.”
“My brother, Certainly Jones, is in Daemonia. Trapped. You will activate the key and release him or this binding will hold you ever after.”
The demon struggled within the confines of my air magic. I had bound it so that even when it returned to Daemonia, it could not break free until it had completed the requirements I put to it.
“What is my reward?” the demon growled.
I had intended to learn the key’s location and then banish the demon back to Daemonia. But if I expected it to help me, I must offer it a reward.
Where was Star? If the demon had—
I spied a flurry of black fur scamper behind the sofa. Good girl.
“I want the kitty,” the demon said.
“No soft things for you,” I admonished as firmly as I could, though the thought of the demon touching a hair on Star’s head sickened me. “But I will grant you…” What would a demon most desire? “A day of freedom in this realm.”
The demon moved its form in a manner implying agreement.
“Go!” I sent it back whence it had come.
The room cleared. I had promised a nefari demon free rein in the mortal realm. I would suffer the consequences from the witches of the Light if and when Navicrux were to release Certainly.
Star scampered over and climbed upon my chest, her green eyes seeking mine. I smiled, patted her head…
…and passed out.
* * *
I shifted to human form, and still lying on top of T.J., searched his face for signs of life. His chest rose and fell. The scratches from his cheek down his jaw and to his neck still seeped blood.
Touching the wounds tenderly, I winced, but couldn’t feel too sad. I think scratching him had been the thing to free him from the demon. I hadn’t known what was happening as T.J. had fallen to his knees and seemed to be struggling inwardly. I’d only known it wasn’t good—so had reacted.
He stirred, and I lifted onto my palms as his eyelids flickered open. I’d never been so happy to see a wounded man’s stunned look before. Tears from my eyes splashed upon his bare chest.
“Sorry.” I swiped at the teardrops.
“Star.” He pulled me to him and I squeezed him tightly, never wanting to let go. Our naked bodies melded, finding home easily. “You okay?”
I nodded, unable to speak because now I was outright crying. Me? Yes, this alley cat was crying.
“Don’t cry, lover. I’m okay, too. The demon is gone. We’re both safe.”
“What about your brother?”
“I have to wait now. See if Navicrux does what I bound him to do.” He touched his cheek.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You released the demon from me by opening my skin. Smart kitty. Thank you.”
He rolled over me and when my shoulders hit the blanket, he leaned in and kissed me. And we cuddled there, half inside the circle, for hours.
* * *
My phone rang and I wanted to ignore it because Star lying next to me was all I needed in this world. But she nabbed the cell phone from the floor near the sofa and handed it to me.
“Thoroughly?” came the weak male voice on the other side.
“Certainly?” I sat, wrapping Star about my waist as she clung like a warm rainbow after the storm. “Oh, man, it’s good to hear your voice. You’re out?”
“Landed in the Metro station near the Bastille Opera house. The police found me naked and beat-up. I passed it off as a mugging. Fuck, I ache. Thanks, brother.”
“It worked,” I said to Star, who hugged me effusively.
“Just wanted to check in,” Certainly said. “I’m so tired. I need to sleep for a year.”
“Yes, rest. I’ll stop by tomorrow and introduce you to the woman who helped me rescue you. Then I’m going to kick your ass for getting stuck in Daemonia in the first place.”
“Don’t kick too hard. I’m battered as it is. Hope I didn’t bring anything back with me. Feel…strange.” He yawned. “Need rest. Bye, bro.”
“He’s back and well?” Star asked.
“Back, but as for well…” To ponder the impact of spending a moment in Daemonia conjured images of insanity and madness. As for bringing something back with him, there was no telling if a demon had hitched a ride inside his body—until it was too late. “He’ll need strength.”
“Has he a wife?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Love makes a person strong.” She straddled me, and tickled her fingers along my hairline. “You make me strong, Thoroughly Jones.”
“You’ve changed me, Star. This dark magic…I don’t want to use it anymore.”
“But you said it’s required to keep the balance.”
“I’d like to
walk the side of goodness now, if that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, lover. You’ll need to build up your stores of goodness, now that you’ve granted the demon a free day pass.”
“Good call. That is, if I’m not made a warlock by the Light first.”
It was the price I would pay. For Star.
She kissed me, and the kiss promised the future would be very good indeed.
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Tamed by the She-Wolf
by Kristal Hollis
Chapter 1
“Dayax!”
Having shifted into his wolf form under cover of night, Lincoln Adams eased farther into the dilapidated two-story building, shot-up and abandoned long before he and his team had arrived in Taifa, a war-torn village in southern Somalia and home to the Yeeyi pack.
Wahyas, an ancient species of wolf shifters who were caught in the middle of escalating human conflicts, faced a greater likelihood of unintentional exposure. To minimize the risk, the Woelfesenat, the secretive international wolf council, developed elite Special Forces teams called Dogmen. Their primary function: safeguarding Wahyas in harm’s way while aiding human allies in their worldwide peacekeeping endeavors.
Since their arrival in Taifa six months ago, Lincoln’s Dogman team had been providing support to UN forces defending the area against militant insurgents and administering humanitarian aid.
Dayax, an orphaned wolfling who’d made himself somewhat of a daily pest at their base of operation, had disappeared from his village during the guerillas’ morning raid.
Tonight, Lincoln’s mission, though not officially sanctioned, nonetheless fell within the scope of his sworn duties. Still, he’d chosen to conduct the search and rescue alone.
Sensing movement behind him, Lincoln spun around, baring his teeth, and issued a low, threatening growl. Five dark, stealthy figures covertly closed in on the building.
Damn ass-wipes.
Affection flooded his wolfan body while he watched his team, in their human forms, fall into position as they had done on countless missions. Handgun drawn, Lila Raycen quietly and quickly entered the building, snapped a quick look around and then gave a hand signal to her teammates. Her gaze sweeping the street, she whispered, “Sorry, Cap’n. All for one and all that jazz.”
Lincoln couldn’t speak the words floating through his mind. Wahyas could only telepathically communicate with other Wahyas if both were in their wolfan forms. Unless, of course, they were mated, which he and Lila were not. Nor would they ever be.
Although grateful at the show of Lila’s support, he growled to officially express displeasure at her disregard of his direct order for the team to remain on-base.
“You can thank me later—” she smirked “—with a fat, juicy steak.”
She had a long wait. On deployment, Dogmen’s diets consisted of water and rations—canned and freeze-dried. Lincoln couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a real meal. But once this assignment ended and they returned to HQ, his first home-cooked meal would be fried, shredded beef empanadas. His weren’t as good as the ones his mom made but she had the actual family recipe handed down from her bisabuela, while he had to make them from memory, since Dogmen weren’t allowed contact with family or friends while in the Program.
One more team member entered the building; the remaining three set up watch outside.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Damien Marquez asked. A member of Lincoln’s team for less than a year and a royal pain in the ass, but the fresh-faced Dogman made a damn good soldier.
Lincoln nodded. Dayax had lived in the abandoned building ever since his parents died. On his first patrol of the village, Lincoln had discovered the wolfling scavenging in the streets. And Lincoln had been feeding him ever since.
He’d also notified his superiors of Dayax’s plight, requesting an extraction and transport to a new pack. Their negative response didn’t stop him from keeping an eye on Dayax or from planning to take the boy with him once the deployment ended. Screw HQ.
“All right,” Lila said quietly. “Let’s find the wolfling and get the hell out of here.”
Using his snout, Lincoln motioned for Damien to stand watch at the entrance. Since he’d already searched the bottom floor, Lincoln signaled Lila to follow him upstairs. Remaining in his wolf form, he hoped the wolfling would either hear his telepathic calls or see his wolf and come out of hiding.
Lincoln bounded up the mostly intact stairwell. The bulletproof vest he wore, specially fitted for his wolf, chaffed despite a thick coat of fur.
Following close on his heels, Lila, his second-in-command, obeyed orders as well as she gave them. Except for tonight’s excursion, she’d never disobeyed a direct command. But he wouldn’t fault her for this one. Loyalty sometimes outweighed a crappy order.
Together for the last five years, he would miss her support and friendship when she got her own team. He knew she would because he had been the one to recommend her for promotion.
Lincoln continued reaching out telepathically to Dayax. Silence answered, time and time again.
The worry gnawing Lincoln’s gut spread into his chest. As they carefully cleared the second floor, the probability that the wolfling had been injured in the earlier firefight or had been taken by the rebels became a clear and present concern.
“Más rápido!” Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Damien waved for them to hurry. “There’s movement down the street and it isn’t the Red Cross handing out lollipops and blankets.”
Room by room they searched. The gnawing in Lincoln’s stomach would eat through his chest before long. After seeing the cruel and evil side of man and wolf for so long, Lincoln had nearly lost hope in everything. Then Dayax came along. With his inquisitive mind, generous smile and trusting eyes, despite all he’d suffered, Dayax had renewed Lincoln’s faith. If he lost the boy now, the last threads of his humanity would snap.
“Se acabó el tiempo!” Damien yelled.
“Almost done,” Lila replied.
Lincoln exited the last room to the left of the stairs and returned to the corridor, shaking his head. He gazed out the large window into the empty alley below.
“Dayax, wherever you are, I will find you!” He sent the question telepathically in English and Somali, hoping the wolfling would receive the message and understand that Lincoln would not give up on him.
“Last one, Linc. Then we gotta scram.” Lila stopped in front of the last door to the right of the stairs.
“All right, kid. Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she said, turning the doorknob. “Hmm. Must be stuck.”
Lincoln’s stomach knotted and a horrible foreboding drove an icy knife into his gut. “Lila, wait!”
The breath stalled in Lincoln’s chest continued on its path, though his heart still thundered.
“Vámonos!” Damien shouted, stomping up the stairs two at a time. “Vámonos!”
A flash of light accompanied a resounding boom. The percussive force slammed Lincoln against the window. Deafened from the explosion, he never heard the glass break. But the air swooshed around him and his stomach looped as he plunged downward.
He would be okay; his team would be okay. Dayax would be okay. The beautiful angel inside the thin silver case tucked in the pocket of his protective vest would make sure they were. She always did.
Nine weeks later
“I’m gonna wring his freaking neck!”
Angeline O’Brien glared at the man passed out on her brand-new leather couch, thrashing and yelling in his sleep.
She slammed the apartment door, envisioning her long fingers curling around Tristan Durrance’s throat for giving his subletter the wrong key.
Friends since they were tweens, neighbors for nearly all of their adult lives, and both relationshipphobes, Tristan and Angeline had traded apartment keys with the understanding that they would look out for each other. Angeline had expected the arrangement to continue into their elder years.
Unfortunately for her, last summer Tristan had accidentally claimed a mate and subsequently fallen in love, breaking up their platonic cohesiveness. Angeline didn’t begrudge Tristan’s happiness, but she had felt a little lonely since he’d moved out of his apartment.
But not lonely enough to play nice with a Dogman who had found his way into the wrong apartment. Everyone in the Walker’s Run pack had been anticipating the wolfan paramilitary man’s arrival for weeks. Everyone except Angeline.
Turbulent emotions rose inside her. When her first and only love, Tanner Phillips, had chosen life as a Dogman over a mateship with her, Angeline had never wanted to hear the word Dogman again. Neither did she ever want to come face-to-face with one.
