Saved by the Spell (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 2) Page 14

  I glanced sideways at Malachi and frowned. His mouth was a narrow slash across his face, his eyes heavy lidded. “What?” I mouthed, jumping a foot off the ground when his whispered answer slithered through my mind.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re better than that.

  My chest tightened painfully, and a head explosion was imminent as the pain surged to a new level. I scowled back at him. Go suck an egg. Better yet, go torture someone who doesn’t deserve it. You don’t know me and have no right to say something like that to me. The moment I thought the words, I wanted to take them back. Malachi would never hurt me. He’d even gone out of his way to help me, and this is how I thanked him? Gods, I hated myself sometimes.

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” I ignored everyone’s stares and held my breath, waiting for his response. Everything went blurry. I lowered my head, frantically blinking to clear the unexpected tears from my vision.

  With one finger tucked underneath my chin, he raised my head up with a knowing smile.

  “I’ll work on it. I promise.” My voice sounded soft and wheezy, and I gave myself a reality check. I sounded like a chastised five-year-old. How utterly embarrassing.

  The king stepped around Johnna, stopping in front of me. His black gaze sent creepy chills down my body. I forced my feet to remain planted on the floor instead of turning and running, which was what I wanted to do.

  “I hear you summoned one of my people.” Lucien’s voice rumbled.

  Oh, I was so dead. My twitches turned into hard shivers. Not even my teeth escaped the punishing motion, clicking together hard enough to break them.

  Johnna scooted around him and shoved her hands against his massive chest. “Oh, stop trying to intimidate her, Lucien. She didn’t know what she was doing.” She stepped back and stood by my side. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think she summoned anything. I think she was tricked.”

  If it wasn’t my butt on the proverbial hot seat, I would have laughed at her pissed-off expression. Her bottom lip curled into her top lip like she’d sucked on a super-sour piece of candy, and her blue eyes had narrowed into slits.

  He sent her a reproving look before he faced me again. “Let’s begin again. I am Lucien—”

  “The demon king,” Johnna interrupted.

  “I can speak for myself, niece.” Without turning, he added, “Niki, control your female.”

  “Yes, sir,” Niki said. “Easier said than done, sir.”

  Lucien responded by exhaling a half sigh, half growl. “Malachi?”

  Malachi squeezed my elbow. “Here, sir. I can’t control either one, sir.”

  I couldn’t have stopped from laughing if I’d tried. “Talk about knowing what buttons to push.” I snorted, letting my gaze travel over their seemingly innocent expressions. “You guys remind me of the Three Stooges,” I spat out between bursts of laughter. Much to my surprise, Lucien’s deeply tanned face turned crimson.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve been told that before,” he muttered, his lips twisting into a smile.

  I shook my head. “Just so you know, you are not how I pictured the leader of Hell.”

  His face went blank as he answered, “Thank you—I think?” He stepped toward me and instinctively, I retreated and hit a brick wall; actually Malachi’s chest but just as immobile. Lucien might be a total hunk, but he was still a demon.

  A demon who scared the crap out of me.

  I jumped when he waved an arm toward a comfy-looking cushioned bench running along the semi-circular wall. I followed his lead and took a seat beside him under a large oil painting depicting a wooded clearing with a somewhat pudgy blonde sitting on a unicorn. Not the sort of decor I would’ve chosen but, hey, to each his own.

  Niki moved one of the remaining benches away from the wall and set it directly across from where Lucien and I sat. Malachi perched beside me on our bench while Johnna and Niki settled on the seat he’d placed for them.

  “Now,” Lucien said. “Let’s begin again.” He shot a quick glare at the others, who wisely kept quiet this time. “As you already know, I am Johnna’s uncle and king of the demons. I’m also the interim ruler of Dark World.”

  He paused. I supposed it was for a dramatic effect, but the only thing I got out of it was a twitchy impatience until he continued, “Malachi and Niki have told me a little about you, but I would like to hear your story in your own words.”

  I was not prepared for that. I expected him to give me the third degree, the guilty-before-innocent thing.

  Johnna reached for my hand and squeezed. “Go ahead, Willow. Tell Lucien what you’ve told us.” She sent her uncle a wicked grin and turned back to me. “Even though he’s a stuffy ol’ king, he really is a good listener.”

  “Just good?” Lucien raised one eyebrow.

  Johnna rolled her eyes. “Okay, great,” she amended. “He’s a great listener.”

  I took a deep breath and started talking, this time refusing my nerves free rein. “Long story short, I never knew my parents and was sent from one horrible foster home to the next, each one usually worse than the previous. I still don’t know what I did to piss everyone off, but I had trouble with every family. I suppose I have anger issues because inevitably, someone got hurt.”

  I closed my eyes, knowing I probably just signed my own back-to-jail warrant. I swallowed several times, trying to clear the emotional blockage in my throat. “I know of two who died. The second death was my best friend’s. I was trying to get rid of a curse, or what we thought was a curse. We were in our dorm room at college and . . . I guess I summoned a demon and Tish died.”

  I stared at my clenched hands pressing into my lap. I was too scared to meet Lucien’s gaze—afraid of what I’d see in his eyes. In a small voice I added, “I believe this is why I was in the Nightmare Realm. To pay for my sins, Your Majesty.”

  Johnna snickered. “His name is Lucien. You’re my friend. Being so formal is ridiculous.”

  “Johnna’s right. Just call me Lucien. I believe what you saw in your dorm room was one of the Summoned. A demon who committed the ultimate sin or has been summoned by someone outside of Dark World. But I do not believe you did the summoning,” Lucien said.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, not trusting my voice. “I would never have—”

  He waved his hand in the air. “Willow, how old were you when the first accident happened?” His soft, melodic voice flowed like a rich cream, coating my frazzled nerves. I found myself relaxing, something I’d never been able to do when talking about my past.

  “I was six.”

  “You said there were problems with the families. What sort of problems?”

  I wanted to disappear into the silk-tufted cushion I sat on. I hated being the center of attention.

  “There is no judgment here, Willow. I ask these questions in order to get at the truth only. I do not ask them to embarrass you.”

  “It would be a first where I’m concerned,” I muttered and sucked in a deep breath. “Most of the problems started with the kids. You know, the normal petty jealousies, I’m-better-than-you-are thing. The parents naturally took their kids’ side regardless of guilt or innocence. I always lost.”

  I waited for someone to comment while the silence weighed on my nerves, causing me to squirm and change positions several times. Lucien’s quiet manner made me feel like every word I said was important enough for him to really think on. My stomach twisted. What if he sent me back to the cursed realm anyway?

  “If you could change one thing in your life, Willow, what would it be?” Lucien asked.

  His question wasn’t what I expected. I thought a moment, unsure exactly what he was asking. “Something I did or simply one aspect of my life?” I didn’t have to be told how important this answer was. I could hear the undercurrent of he
sitation lacing every word. Even the air around me vibrated in anticipation.

  “Something you did,” he replied.

  I hesitated for a second but already knew what my response would be. “I would not have used magic to help Tish.”

  “Why choose that?” Johnna asked.

  My gaze locked onto Lucien’s face. His eyes glittered, and the corners of his mouth crept upward into the beginnings of a smile. Enough to give me the courage to search within myself for those painful truths hidden away for my own protection over the years. Malachi moved beside me, the heat from his hand warming the small of my back, relaxing me even more.

  Still staring at Lucien, I answered Johnna. “I can’t control other people’s actions. One thing I learned from my time in the Nightmare Realm, evil is relentless. My choice to willingly use magic gave evil an opening. All the other times had been instinctual, and I used my magic for self-preservation.”

  My skin tingled under Malachi’s touch. I felt his reassurance pulse through me, comforting the pain still tightly sealed beneath layers of anguish from a lifetime of rejection. Lucien leaned back against the wall and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at his ankles. He steepled his fingers on his narrow waist with an air of total relaxation, except for the harsh compression of his full lips.

  “You never knew your parents.” It was not a question but a confirmation.

  “No, sir. I never knew them.” I paused, wondering how much I could trust him. He was a king, and he held my future in his hands. From some deep well of knowledge, instinct told me to trust him. “My parents did leave me this ring.” I held out my hand, and he balanced my fingers with his own.

  His grip was gentle as he held my middle finger between his index and thumb. He straightened my arm, staring at the wide gold band. The circular insignia covered the fleshy space between my knuckles, yet it still seemed feminine.

  “My third foster family begrudgingly gave me the ring. They said it arrived by special delivery one afternoon. My foster mother told me whoever had sent the ring wanted to make sure I got it. She said the note contained some kind of threat if I wasn’t given the ring.”

  I carefully watched him. Lucien never touched the ring. He never blinked, either. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. Finally, I couldn’t stand the wait any longer. “Well?” I asked, my voice sounding breathier than I liked. It was only a ring—wasn’t it? “Lucien, come on. You’re making me really nervous here. Is there something wrong? The ring is mine, isn’t it?”

  His expression softened and he no longer looked grim, so I hoped it was a positive thing.

  “I cannot answer that, little one. The only person who can is the one who sent the ring to you.”

  My shoulders slumped forward in defeat. Definitely not positive. “That wasn’t helpful.” I blinked back hot tears, twisting the ring around my finger and refusing to let this stumbling block get me any more down than I already was.

  “Lucien, did you get something from the ring—a clue? Anything to help us figure out who her parents are?” Niki asked, voicing the very questions circling in my own brain.

  “It’s been too long for any magic residue to remain. The only detectable emotion I sensed was sorrow. Did you look at it?” Lucien stared at Niki who shook his head. “There are initials resting on top of the symbol.”

  Johnna’s excited voice chimed in, and I felt my own anxiousness building. “Did you recognize them, Lucien?” She did what he wouldn’t and examined the ring herself. The gentle caress of her thumb on its surface was calming. “There’s something about this ring . . . it seems so familiar to me.”

  Lucien snapped and an imp flew down from the huge, rough-hewn cantilevered beams overhead. He whispered something to the bulbous body floating beside his head. Thankfully, it darted across the room and dove through a nondescript side door. I shuddered, glad the imp was gone. Its corpulent, black body reminded me of a blood-engorged tick.

  A loud shout from Johnna pulled my thoughts back to the ring and off my rumbling stomach. A brilliant smile had transformed her normally pretty face to beautiful. Strands of her shiny, auburn hair had pulled free from the loose ponytail and now curled against her cheeks as her bright blue eyes danced with excitement. I shoved down the painful twist of jealousy and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

  “. . . diary. That’s where I’ve seen this before.”

  Chapter 14

  “What . . .?” I began, only to find Niki’s hot grip wrapped around my hand, covering the ring, and with his other hand, trying to shove a book back toward Johnna. A soft voice sounded in my ear, but I only heard one haunting word. Home.

  “Not here,” he hissed and threw Lucien a hard glare.

  Lucien rose and strode into the central room. From out of nowhere, the three Watchers who’d escorted us to the Bastille met him in front of the small altar at the far end of the room. Shadows bounced across the back wall from the golden flames of the hundred-plus votive candles, casting an equally brilliant luster over the ornately carved altar. The creamy white of the delicate Battenberg lace cloth blanketing the dark wood added the perfect touch of softness to the gothic piece.

  The Watchers turned in unison and went through the same door the imp had flown through. They were definitely soldiers. Who else moved as one being with an aura of physical strength that would make anyone shake in their shoes? Lucien pointed at us and shooed with one hand, the ol’ “move ‘em forward” motion like John Wayne in an old western movie.

  Following the king’s lead, we walked across the large room toward the largest tapestry I’d ever seen. To my surprise, he didn’t stop but pushed aside one corner to reveal another hallway. The walls in this tunnel were bare, except for two glowing torches at the other end.

  I scooted closer to Johnna and whispered, “What was the book you had? The one Niki made you put away?”

  “My mother’s diary. Why?”

  “It spoke. Did you hear it?”

  A blank expression covered her face before her gaze jerked toward Niki, who was a few steps in front of her. “No. Can’t say I did. What did it say?”

  Great, she thought I was crazy. I fell back a step. “Never mind. I must’ve heard something else.”

  Thankfully, a delicious aroma met us halfway along the corridor, and I noticed my steps weren’t the only ones quickening as we all hurried into the room.

  Johnna and Niki marched to the food-laden table and plopped down into two of the five available high-backed chairs. My steps slowed to a stop. I had never seen so much food. My mouth watered in delicious expectation. Overwhelmed, I forced my feet to take the last few steps to one of the chairs and sat, wondering what to eat first.

  The decision was taken from me when Malachi dropped several pieces of ham, and what looked like a complete chicken, onto a plate and placed it in front of me. I stared in horror at the mound of food. The stack resembled a miniature pyramid.

  Still staring at the plate, I cleared my throat. “Um, Malachi? Is this your plate or mine? I mean, yeah I’m hungry, but . . .” I couldn’t stop the bubbling laughter, which quickly turned into more of a thick, choking sound when I heard several more chuckles around the table. When I glanced up at Malachi, however, my humor dissipated. His mouth formed a tight, pinched line and his nose flared. His complexion resembled a boiling lobster, brilliant red.

  Without a word, he picked up my plate and replaced it with the empty one sitting in front of him. Under cover of the other’s laughter, he muttered, “I was only trying to help.”

  I sent him a heartfelt smile and savored the more carefree mood. I placed the palm of my hand on his thigh, liking how the tight muscles jumped beneath my touch. “Thank you for thinking of me. It’s nice,” I whispered.

  Before he could answer, I filled my new plate with small pieces of everything. Each delicious b
ite created a flavor frenzy for my starved taste buds: succulent, roasted chicken; creamy, buttered potatoes; sinfully decadent chocolate cake, so moist it dissolved the moment the morsel slid over my tongue.

  “Oh my.” I inhaled, reveling in the overwhelming richness. “This is heavenly.”

  “Not exactly,” Niki declared.

  Johnna snickered.

  “Oh, right. Talk about irony.”

  Johnna carefully rested her fork against the edge of her empty plate and leaned back in her chair. Her gaze focused on Lucien, quietly sitting at the head of the table. “So, are the succubi really wanting a war? And what couldn’t we talk about out there?”

  Lucien took a deep gulp from a heavy earthenware mug before answering, his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. “Somehow they are able to break through the ancient wards. Regan is back with her coven, scrying to discover a solution. It’s now paramount one is found.” He took another drink and wrapped his hands around the base with its thick handle. The dark red garnet mounted in his gold pinky ring reminded me of blood.

  Who’s Regan? I asked Malachi. Speaking to each other in our minds was definitely a perk.

  She’s the vampire priestess . . . now listen so you don’t miss anything.

  “The fighting started yesterday afternoon,” Lucien continued. “In the first few hours, the succubi captured two of the six Watchers sent after them. A total of ten Watchers have been killed—along with fifty of my own soldiers.”

  I didn’t know this man at all, but the lost-little-boy look he wore broke my heart. He scrubbed his hands over his face, raking his elegant fingers through his long, black hair. I wanted to reach out and comfort him. Instead, I sat quietly in my chair, clasping and unclasping my hands.

  He will be all right, kitten. Malachi’s silky voice filled my mind and eased the anxious pressure in my chest. This is why we are here—to give him aid.