Saved by the Spell (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 2) Page 15

  “What do you need from us, Lucien?” Niki asked, interrupting my concentration before I could picture my thoughts and form an answer.

  “I need you and Malachi out in the field.”

  “Lucien, no—” Johnna sputtered, only to go silent when her uncle gripped her balled fist with one large hand.

  “Without Gerard, they are the only two I trust. Your father’s disappearance left a cavernous hole.” He dropped her hand and stood, moving around his chair and grabbing the top, holding himself erect. “You also need to know rumors have surfaced that your parents managed to escape the Nightmare Realm.”

  He held up his hand to quiet the onslaught of questions from all three, until the room fell silent. “I haven’t been able to substantiate it as of yet. No sign of either one has been found in any of the other realms.”

  Niki frowned at Lucien. “The Watchers weren’t able to find a trace?”

  Lucien slowly shook his head in response, his mouth pulled into a tight line.

  Johnna turned from one to the other, her eyes growing wider and more frantic by the second. “What does that mean?” She grabbed Niki’s arm tightly, her knuckles instantly white. “Niki? Please?”

  He uncurled her fingers and tucked her arm under his, pulling her small frame to his side as their chairs clacked together. “It means they are shielded. Anyone in your mother’s family could easily mask their presence,” Niki said.

  “If that’s the case, why haven’t I been told? Grandma Gaia would’ve told me by now if they were safe. Surely, anyone else in her family would too if they’d rescued Mom and Dad.”

  Malachi cleared his throat and cringed. “Not really.”

  “Excuse me?” she whispered.

  “Why not?” I asked at the same time, almost drowning out her quiet words.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “They’re immortals. Gods who don’t usually care about what occurs outside their own narrow world.”

  “Normally, I would agree with you, Malachi, but Gaia was never like the rest of the gods. Johnna’s right, she wouldn’t keep important news a secret. I also don’t believe your theory is what happened.” Niki shoved the last piece of meat from his plate into his mouth and chewed. Draining his cup, he slapped it back onto the table. “There are a few places throughout Dark World allowing for total invisibility. We searched one already and found Willow. The other two are twice the size and more difficult to search. The Pits of Despair and the Well of Souls.”

  Johnna thunked her forehead against the table and groaned. “That’s so not what I wanted to hear.” She cupped her palms over her temples. “My head hurts.”

  Malachi released a soft snort. “Hitting it against a table will do that.”

  “Hardy-har-har, smartass. My head hurt before.” Despite her insulting tone, one side of her mouth curled up.

  I admired her quick wit. She seemed comfortable in any situation. I wanted to be as self-confident. She must have had a great life—wonderful parents, kisses and hugs every night, and presents for birthdays and Christmas. Unlike me.

  Malachi’s deep, feathery voice interrupted my wandering, woeful thoughts.

  Everyone has a story, kitten. Good or bad. What you do with your life is the important thing. It’s what makes life worth living.

  I stared at him in disbelief. So you say.

  Malachi caught Niki’s gaze and held it a few seconds.

  “What?” I tried not to feel intimidated.

  “Willow? Malachi is right. Everyone has a story, and mine isn’t so different from yours,” Johnna said, her tone sad.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I sniffed. “Yeah, right. That’s what everybody always says. But you know what? They’re wrong. And you’re wrong. No one knows, really knows, someone else’s story. They never will—not until they become that person.”

  I knew I sounded like a whiny child, but I couldn’t help it. A dam burst inside me, and I could no more stop the flood of emotions than a solitary sandbag standing against a raging river. Yet I held my ground and faced them, shaking uncontrollably. Whether it was from frustration, fear, or my uncharacteristic rant, I didn’t know or care. Instead of feeling relief from unloading, I felt frozen in place, my mind numb.

  The moment Malachi wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders, my brain thawed.

  “Willow, I never said I knew how you felt.” Johnna’s soft tone soothed me. “I said my story was similar to yours.” She placed a hand on my arm. Immediately, a tickling sensation spread across my skin and massaged my shattered nerves until I stopped shivering.

  I closed my eyes, completely ashamed at how I’d acted.

  There is no judgment here, kitten.

  I wasn’t sure why, but at this moment, Malachi’s voice sounding in my head was as normal to me as breathing. And it scared the snot out of me.

  That’s as it should be as well. He chuckled—both out loud and in my head.

  “Domineering butthead,” I groused but let my lips slowly form a shy smile as his laughter continued.

  “Willow, you’ve got to lighten up a little,” Johnna chimed in. “There's nothing wrong with cussing. A few shits and damns are good for the psyche.”

  “I don't criticize you, so don't do it to me.”

  Johnna smiled. “See? You're learning already.”

  “Imp, leave her alone,” Niki admonished.

  Johnna’s expression turned serious. “Like you, I raised myself. My grandfather killed my mom, and Dad coped by working all the time.”

  Horror crawled up my throat. I wrapped my hand around my neck and held my breath, hoping to keep the revulsion from escaping. My heart ached at her admission. At least I’d never known my parents. But to have her mother die so horribly? I could never begin to imagine what Johnna had gone through, making my earlier outburst even more childish.

  Johnna shrugged. “Although it would’ve been nice to know Mom wasn’t actually dead. Only her mortality had been killed. She’s a Greek Erinys.” She met Niki’s gaze. “I think immortality suits her.” He nodded as her hand moved down my arm and squeezed my fingers.

  She leaned back into Niki’s embrace. “It wasn’t as bad as what you’re imagining. What kid wouldn’t love that kind of freedom? I made my own rules. I found by focusing on the positive things, I was able to get through the bad times easier.”

  “Seriously? That’s your advice?”

  “Of course. It’s good advice.”

  With one loud huff, I blew my bangs off my forehead. Just as quickly, they fell back in place. “It’s horrible advice.”

  “At least you weren't tricked by your father and gutted by a zombie,” she said.

  “No, I was abandoned by my parents and used by a demon.” I glared at her, daring her to respond again. But her bright smile gave me an unexpected jolt.

  “We have a lot in common. I knew I liked you—simpatico spirits.”

  I groaned. “Arguing with me is liking me? I'm doomed.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Johnna’s smile never wavered.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sitting in a magnificent castle in a room larger than most of the houses I’d lived in had to be what heaven felt like. Cradling a heavy mug in my hands, I sipped my spiced pumpkin latté and stared into the fire, more relaxed than I could remember. The fire’s warmth seeped into my bones, but I still felt strangely chilled. Ice had formed in my bone marrow and refused to thaw. Cold weather never bothered me before; however, lately my insides felt downright frosty. Warm weather suited me much better.

  The orange-yellow blaze cheerfully popped and crackled. The longer I stared into the molten depths, the more I felt myself dipping downward, rising and falling with each tiny flutter. The thought of staying in this huge, overstuffed, and very comfortable chair, never to move again, was comp
elling.

  “Willow?”

  The deep voice beside my chair jerked me out of my leaden stupor, and my mug crashed to the floor. I pushed myself upright, inhaling deep and long, each sharp expansion painful. I pressed against my chest with one hand to try and ease the pain and glared at Lucien’s teasing grin, looming at me from above. Would I ever be able to get through an encounter with these people without embarrassing myself? Probably not.

  “Does anyone in any of these realms make a sound when they walk? At this rate, my heart will know what to do when I have a heart attack. It’s gotten plenty of practice since I’ve been here.” I gulped in more oxygen. “Do you have the ability to actually control demons—and everyone else living here?”

  One side of his grin slid south. “Technically, yes. As the demon king, I have the power to do that, but do you realize how much power it takes to control one demon, much less thousands? As far as the other realms, it’s more of a leader-type of role. Only Lucifer can control them.”

  “Oh well, there goes that idea. I was hoping you could just take control of whoever was causing the realms to glitch.” I still couldn’t get over how beautiful Lucien was, and the acknowledgement was also unsettling. Men were not supposed to be beautiful. Handsome, yes. Beautiful? Not so much.

  “You’d think by now I’d be used to everyone popping in and out of existence right in front of me, but I’m not.” I stared down at the shards of my coffee mug surrounded by rich, brown puddles of liquid and silently wished for another cup.

  Almost as soon as I made the wish, the remnants of my broken cup disappeared. A bulbous blue imp zoomed into the room and stopped in front of me, holding an identical mug of steaming coffee, the wonderful smell of Christmas scenting the room.

  “Thank you.” I smiled and wrapped my hands around the new mug. The heat again filtered into my hands and up my arms. I carefully blew into the cup and took a tentative sip. “Perfection,” I sighed and gently sank back down into the plush chair.

  Swirling the creamy liquid around my mouth, I savored the nutmeg-laced pumpkin flavor. “You could make a fortune selling this. It’s better than any coffeehouse back home.”

  “Where do you think they got the recipe?”

  My jaw dropped, and I stared into my half-empty mug. “Really?”

  He chuckled. “A sinfully decadent treat people can’t get enough of? We had to weaken it a bit, of course. Our recipe at full strength would be too much for regular humans. Like a lethal morphine overdose—there would be no coming back from it.”

  “Definitely not good. It’s that addicting?”

  He nodded. Pulling the chair next to mine closer, he sat down. “They might be able to drink one, but most would die.”

  “Oh.” An uncomfortable feeling stole through me. What would happen to me if I finished this one?

  As if reading my mind, he answered my unspoken question. “You can have as many as you want, Willow. I promise nothing will happen to you.”

  I studied my coffee a moment longer then glanced up at his smiling face. “Because I’m here?”

  “No,” he said. “Because you are not human.”

  The room’s peaceful ambiance faded into the hazy gray background, and my coffee mug threatened to slip through my suddenly nerveless fingers. I clutched it to my chest as I slumped in my chair. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on my fleeing sanity, willing it to stay put.

  “You shouldn’t be surprised. Didn’t Johnna or Niki already say something to you?”

  I nodded, refusing to open my eyes. “Yeah, but I chalked it up to them being crazy.”

  He bellowed out a laugh that echoed with each loud guffaw. I watched his struggle to stop, his outburst finally winding down as he fell against the back of his own chair with his hands pressed against his flat stomach.

  Finally, he exhaled, his wonderful chest moving in and out, mesmerizing me. “I haven’t laughed like that in a while.” His hooded gaze met mine. “Thank you.”

  I shrugged. “Glad to help. If all you need is a bit of laughter, I’m your gal. I’m a disaster just waiting to happen. And I always have witnesses to my humility.” I paused for dramatic effect and also to hide my embarrassment. I hated looking stupid. I mean, seriously, how many people looked elegant denting the ground with their faces?

  Lucien grinned again. I knew he wasn’t laughing at me, but he was still laughing. It was annoying.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

  Mouth pinched, I raised one eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? I tripped up a short flight of porch stairs and stubbed my toe when I turned to say something to one of my many foster parents. When I tried to catch my balance, I fell against the support column and managed to rip my shirt on the only protruding nail.”

  His lips twitched.

  “My shirt took an immediate dislike to me. I guess it preferred the column more, because most of it remained caught on the nail. Meanwhile, I—half naked—tumbled down the porch steps and landed in the newly planted and aromatically fertilized garden.”

  He sucked his lips between his teeth and the twitching stopped, but his nostrils flared.

  “And I do not use the word aromatic loosely. The fertilizer was very fresh and very squooshy manure.”

  I liked Lucien and told him the story to make him laugh. Between the recent betrayal of his mother and now this war with the succubi, I doubt he’d had much of a reason to lately. I widened my smile and wiggled my eyebrows until we were both laughing.

  We sat in a comfortable silence and watched the fire dance and crackle. I drew in a deep, relaxing breath and let the scent of burning pinion pine filter through my body.

  “They aren’t crazy, are they?” I turned my head against the chair’s back cushion to look at my newfound companion. “What Johnna and Niki said about me . . . I’m not really human, am I?”

  Chapter 15

  Lucien continued staring into the fire, and my gaze followed his. The flames rose and fell in a macabre dance, reminding me of a nineteenth-century cotillion where the men bowed to their partner and the ladies curtsied before the dancers circled around the room.

  “Normally, I would say they both have their moments, but not this time. I can sense no human quality in you. There is a familiarity in your blood. I should be able to decode your lineage but can’t quite grasp the information and have no idea why.” He shoved his fingers through his black hair, leaving the soft-looking strands draped over his shoulders instead of his normal queue. “It feels like a protection spell, but not one I’ve seen before.”

  “Figures.”

  “It doesn’t mean we won’t decode it. A parent doesn’t give up their child without a fight unless they know they won’t win or the child could get hurt. Whatever your parents’ reason, we will figure it out.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded, not trusting my voice as I battled the emotional deluge, quickly morphing to the size of a tidal wave as it assaulted my already exhausted senses.

  “I didn’t come in here to make you feel worse, Willow. I needed you to tell me about the columns. What you saw out there.”

  I cracked an eyelid and grumbled, “How is that not making me feel worse? Every time I close my eyes, I see those poor people dying. Their shrieks were filled with so much pain. I always suffocated on the thick cloud of cinnamon-laced sulfur. I can still smell the gawd-awful stench clogging my nostrils and seeping into every pore. Christmas is forever ruined now, although I might be able to eat a cinnamon roll or two. Maybe light on the cinnamon.” I closed my eyes again and focused on the kaleidoscope of red and orange shapes playing across the backs of my lids as they morphed and blended with dark, hazy shadows.

  “Those memories will haunt me until the day I die.” I was no longer talking about the deaths in the Nightmare Realm. No matter how long I lived, I would n
ever forget or forgive my past choices. In my mind, I felt Malachi’s presence. A soft caress feathered across my cheek and my nerves settled a bit. They didn’t go away, but his light touch helped me deal with the pain better.

  No, you won’t forget, but in time the grief will lessen, and you will be able to forgive yourself. His rich voice poured inside me.

  How can you be sure?

  Everyone has made a mistake at least once in their life. A mistake that hurts someone else is inevitable. I’ve made decisions condemning souls and will have to live with those for eternity.

  Oh. I wasn’t quite sure what to think now. An aura of sadness whispered across my skin, causing traitorous goose bumps. Rubbing my arms, I forced my attention back to Lucien.

  “I am very sorry, little one. I sometimes forget everyone isn’t as hard-hearted as I must be.” Sorrow laced each word. “I will try to find the answers I need another way.”

  I groaned. “Great, now I have guilt.” I shook off the room’s calming effect and sat up straight, placing my empty coffee cup on the floor beside me. I twisted sideways to face him. “Go ahead and ask,” I challenged. “Ask me anything. I’m a big girl and can handle it.” I folded my arms across my chest and waited, my toe impatiently tapping.

  He nodded in approval. “Good girl. I knew you had the fortitude.” He leaned forward and balanced his forearms across his knees. “A moment ago you mentioned something about a scent. You are certain you smelled cinnamon?”

  “Quite certain. I’ve smelled it several times—” My breath caught in my throat as one time in particular stood out more than the others, a beacon shining in the dark. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “How stupid can I be? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

  Lucien’s deep voice broke through my rant. “Would you care to share why you’re hitting yourself?”