Saved by the Spell (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 2) Read online

  Since arriving in this godforsaken place, I now believed anger was the only emotion left inside of me. Although the longer I was with him, the urge to annoy him simmered beneath my skin. Sort of like poking a sleeping bear with a stick. Probably not a good idea but life definitely would not be boring.

  “Are you lost?” He couldn’t miss my sarcasm and a nugget of satisfaction burrowed deep inside me. Finally, I felt something other than fury; this tiny kernel gave me hope. Despite everything, I was still me and nobody could change that. Even with the realization, the familiar darkness roiling in my gut resurfaced.

  To fight the depression, I pushed my luck where the big guy was concerned when his only response to my quip was a stare. “Okay. Let’s try something easier. What’s your name?”

  The man’s gorgeous brown eyes met mine. “I am called Malachi.”

  I rocked back and forth on my boot heels. “Where exactly are we going? Or do you plan to keep roaming in circles?” Another question occurred to me. “Are we trying to find something or someone?”

  Malachi knelt by a scraggly bush, if it could be called a bush. It looked more like Charlie Brown’s pathetic Christmas tree.

  “We aren’t searching for anything. I am,” he growled, squatting near my feet. No hint of thought or emotion played across his stony features.

  I stared at the back of his head. My fingers itched to touch his black hair; it looked so soft. What he was thinking remained a mystery. Too bad I didn’t have a deck of cards. He’d make an excellent poker player.

  My legs gave out, and I sort of slithered to the dusty ground. I was never going to recover from all of this unaccustomed exercise. My poor thighs. The tight burning in my legs hadn’t even begun to lessen when the insensitive giant stood and strode away. His receding back made an excellent target, if only I had a weapon. My muscles screamed in agony as my abused legs hefted me upright again, quite possibly for the last time. My shuffling barely resembled walking, the sharp prickles traveling through them hurting.

  I continued to huff and puff behind him, mentally stomping my feet with each step. “Can you be any more rude and insensitive?”

  He stopped, and I again plowed into his cement-like back. I wasn’t quick enough this time either, and face-planted into one of the chain links. I rubbed the bridge of my already bruised nose. “Ow,” I whined, really wanting to cry.

  “Did you say something?”

  I marched around him, my hands fisted on my hips as my emotions got the best of me. Shocker. Tears filled my eyes from the pain in my nose. “You heard me or you wouldn’t have stopped. And you’re hard.”

  He grinned down at me. I opened my mouth to tell him what I thought and suddenly realized what I’d said. If bodies could combust from mortification, mine should have. I snapped my mouth shut as heat rushed over my skin. “I meant your back is too muscled. I hurt my nose. Again, I might add. You need taillights mounted on your ass.”

  “Why do you believe I am rude?”

  My scowl returned. “You did hear me.”

  He shrugged. “Never said I didn’t.”

  I waved at the bleak world around me and every emotion I had bubbled to the surface. “This is all wrong. Can my life be any more screwed up?”

  “Probably.”

  I glared at him but he only replied, “It wasn't rhetorical. I speak from experience.”

  I inhaled the stale air several times, expanding my lungs and filling them up with as much oxygen as I could, in hopes of calming my jittery nerves. It didn’t help. If anything, deep inhalations made me feel worse. The first hiccup echoed around us. I held my breath and counted to twenty then inhaled another tentative breath. This hiccup was louder than the first.

  From the whiteness of his compressed lips, I do believe chain-link dude enjoyed my discomfort, making the hiccups worse. “If you have any,” hic “idea,” hic “how to get rid of,” hic, hic “these, now would be” hic “a good time to tell me.” HIC.

  “Oh, for gods’ sake.” Malachi flipped his wrist once in front of my face, swiveling on his heels, and stomped away.

  My hiccups stopped. Amazed, I stared at his very ripped back leaving me behind again, and I took off after him, my rubbery legs struggling to make headway. Finally, I managed to double-time my steps with his, only the occasional extra hop needed in order to stay behind him as his legs ate up the miles.

  “Tell me about your family.” The silence had penetrated my very being, and I was beginning to feel an inward implosion from the lack of sound.

  “Can you not move without wheezing?”

  “No. Family?”

  He blew out a breath. “Fine. I will slow down.”

  I didn’t press the family issue, and he managed to slow enough to where I wasn’t gasping for air. By lengthening my stride, I met his pace easier. Slowly my lungs slowed to more of a normal pace. At least the wheezing no longer sounded as if I’d just sucked a carton of cigarettes.

  “Much better. Thank you. Now, family?”

  “Aarrgh! Do you never give up? You’re like an uncontrollable imp.”

  I raised a brow. Did I really want to know what he was talking about? I shut my mouth and followed him in silence, sheer torture for me.

  My large companion groaned. “This is actually worse.” He let out a frustrated huff. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

  My spirit perked up.

  “I have no blood relations. My family consists of Lucien, Niki, and my Fallen brothers.”

  “Fallen brothers? Sounds like a name for one of those trapeze groups—the Flying Wallendas.”

  His gravelly sigh sounded deep in his throat and more resembled a growl, but I chose to ignore it anyway.

  “We are not a circus act. It’s too difficult to explain to you. Niki is a demon enforcer—policeman, if you will. Lucien is the Demon King.”

  I snapped my teeth together a few times, liking the way my jaws began to ache, in a masochistic sort of way. This was all too surreal. The few demons I’d seen were already dead or dying, consequently they hadn’t worried me much. But a demonic policeman and the king of demons? Seriously? This took me to a whole new level of petrified.

  I did what I always do. I opened my mouth before my rational brain could edit anything. Hiding behind a smart mouth had kept me sane so far. Who was I to change what worked? “You run in high, classy circles, don’t you? Demons all around.” I sucked in my lips, hoping for a quick death.

  However, I wasn’t prepared for the deepening of his already crimson skin tone. When he didn’t respond, I asked another question. “What happened to your real family?”

  “You are judging me and those I care about by the Mortal Realm’s mistaken belief about demons, and I was created, not born.”

  I wasn’t sure what to think about that. Most all religions on Earth believed demons were evil. Could they all be wrong? How could someone not be born? “Hmm, you do have problems.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. How is someone made?”

  He didn’t answer right away. “Do you really want to know?”

  Did I? As an uneasy sensation slithered through my stomach, I decided a change of topic was definitely necessary. “So, where are we going?” His sudden frown was not reassuring. My cramped muscles screamed in defiance for what I suspected would come next. More exercise.

  “I should have found them already. This is the last place they could be.”

  His perplexed reply made no sense. I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. “You’re really searching for someone? You mean you came here voluntarily?” I took a few steps forward until we were practically nose to ripped pectoral. I tipped my head sideways to see him better and asked, “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “It was necessary.” The massive tree trunks he used a
s arms folded over his chest, hiding the beautiful chiseled sight from my view.

  I placed my hand on his crossed arms. “Malachi, this is a really bad place. It sucks the life out of you. People die here.”

  He shook his head. “No, this realm is meant to punish people, but it doesn’t kill. Dying would defeat the need for punishment. This realm makes a person wish for death, but they never receive it. Their torment is forever. Time stops, making it eternal.”

  The more I learned about where I was, the less I liked it. He wasn’t going to believe me anyway. “Believe what you want. By my estimation, we’ve been looking for these friends of yours for two days. Don’t you have any clue where they might be?”

  Malachi closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising and lowering before glaring down at me. “For the love of . . . No, I have no clues. I never had any clues. And your inner clock is off. It’s only been one full day, not two. Although,” he muttered, “it feels closer to five.”

  I opened my mouth, immediately snapping it shut again when a sense of dread settled over me. My lungs burned, trying to pull in enough oxygen. “Something’s happening. This isn’t right.” Worry gnawed at my insides, my gaze moving from his to the horizon behind him. “Do you feel it, Malachi? The air is heavier and makes me think everything light and positive has drained away. It feels so hopeless.”

  He nodded, pushing onward again. “I feel it too, along with a darker presence—a presence that shouldn’t be here.”

  We followed the path as it snaked around a huge boulder, both of us jerking to a stop at the gruesome sight greeting us. A hundred or so columns dotted the landscape ahead, but it was the one closest to us causing my insides to freeze.

  I stared at the pathetic form draped over the chest-high column. The man’s face was ashen, his lips and thin skin surrounding his vacant eyes tinged blue. His death had been rough. He’d fought harder than the others and the evidence lay scattered around us. His frantic thrashing in his quest for freedom had broken chunks away from the column’s increasing height, stunting its upward growth.

  Malachi’s face had turned white, and his hand inched toward the dead man’s face. His strong fingers hooked under the slightly pointed chin and lifted. A long, pained moan pushed through blue lips, gaining in strength and decibels. As with the others I’d seen, the poor man wasn’t dead yet.

  Terrified, I jumped backward, squealed, and promptly fell on my butt. I scrambled to my feet, unsure about what I could do to help but needing to try something, anything. Blocking out his agonizing scream was impossible. It was never-ending and wrapped around my mind in layers.

  The moment the man started screaming, Malachi pulled his hand from the man’s face and straightened, his arms rising about his head. Both feet were planted in a wide stance in front of the dying man, and all I could do was stare. What in the world was Malachi doing?

  I tamped down my jittery nerves and forced one booted foot in front of the other, afraid to move but more afraid not to. I stopped not quite beside Malachi, keeping some distance between us, and waited to see what happened next.

  Malachi didn’t disappoint me. A subtle, shimmery vibration skittered over my skin and raised the hairs on my arms and neck, like the slow buildup of static electricity. A low-pitched hum ran beneath the building energy charge.

  The column reached the man’s emaciated shoulders, the sagging skin folded and draped over his chest and arms, the only evidence left of his previous size. I had to look away from the skeletal face as his skin pulled tight across his prominent facial bones. He was dying, and I refused to watch. As it was, I would never be able to erase the memory of what I’d already seen.

  I stared out across the flat landscape beyond Malachi. The air around us turned fuzzy, wavering like a heat wave in the desert. I thought I glimpsed something out there but one blink later, and the area seemed perfectly normal. My gaze continued to roam the horizon, trying to catch another glimpse. Just as I was about to give up, I saw it again. I definitely saw a figure this time. Dark and curvy. A woman floated toward us, her feet about a foot off the ground.

  I didn’t know what to do. Should I interrupt Malachi or wait and see if he noticed her too? I concentrated as hard as I could, willing him to look to his right. I even thought the words, mentally drawing out each letter in my head as I did with DC.

  Amazingly, Malachi’s gaze shifted ever so slowly to his left until he met my gaze. One dark brow rose in question. Subtly, he edged his body toward the shimmering form. Without warning, he grabbed the chain from one shoulder and flicked his wrist. The bright silver links whistled through the air and ended in a sudden splat, followed by a furious hiss.

  “Fallen, loosen your chains! You are one of us and eternally damned as we are. Why not join me and my sisters and fight for your freedom?” The woman’s screech grated both my mind and ears. I followed the direction of his gaze but saw only the same shimmery air.

  “Dahlia. I should’ve known you were behind this. Your people fight in vain. You cannot defeat the Watchers or Lucien’s army. It is useless to even try.”

  The woman’s very voluptuous figure solidified, at least what was left of it. Her long, blonde hair floated around her flawless face. She took my breath away. Shock zinged through me when I noticed the brilliant white fangs peeking from between her plump, cherry red lips. The one thing marring the perfect picture she presented was the shredded middle area of her stomach. A heavy vaporous mist funneled away from the place where her legs and feet should have been.

  My mind raced as I struggled to figure out what she was talking about. And what was wrong with her? Was she dying? From where I stood, Malachi was nothing like this creature, so why did she think they were damned? Waves of righteousness surrounded him like a protective cloak, pounding against me as well.

  This Dahlia made me feel as if I’d been dunked in a vat of oily slime. Evil surrounded her, must have created her. Clearly, evil embodied her.

  “Though you kill me, Fallen, my sister will continue fighting for our cause. You know Tarja. She is my better in every way and so much more. Smarter, more beautiful, more lethal.”

  Malachi raised his arm and cut some kind of weird shapes through the air with his hand, but my gaze stayed on the beautifully crafted armband. The intricate design in the center was a cross between something tribal and Celtic. Whatever it was, it looked old.

  Malachi’s mouth moved, drawing my gaze upward, but damned if I could understand what he said. Some foreign language maybe, and it sounded suspiciously like a chant. One second later, he whipped the chains back, and they flew around him, sliding across his chest and settled into their familiar crisscross position. One loud clap of his hands and her lips melted. Along with the rest of her. The only thing left of her body was a large puddle of red goo at his feet.

  I swallowed several times, trying not to throw up. I had witnessed several deaths here but not up close and personal. I met Malachi’s gaze. His body appeared fuzzy around the edges, although his expression looked worried. I glanced around and somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered everything was fuzzy.

  I pressed a hand against my stomach, now imitating an acrobatic biplane doing loop-de-loops. I closed my eyes against the excruciating, prickling sensations building inside me and dropped my head into my hands. I heard a low, pained moan from a distance. As I fell to the ground, I heard it again, louder this time, and realized it had come from me.

  Over my moans, I also heard Malachi’s voice, but it sounded so very far away as he repeated my name. A dark silence stole my reality and blanketed the pain pulling me into emptiness. My last conscious thought was how good his arms felt holding me.

  Strong arms. Sexy arms. Safe arms.

  Chapter 6

  “Willow? Come on, honey, I’m out of my element here. Wake up.” The heat from Malachi’s hand felt wonderful as he
pushed the hair off my forehead. “You can do it. Please wake up,” he whispered.

  I tried to smile at the hint of desperation seeping into his deep voice, but my head still throbbed. Glad the horrible, drowning pain had disappeared, I felt too comfortable. I didn’t trust comfortable. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I eased away from his embrace, ignoring the weak-kneed feeling spreading through me. Before I lost what little nerve I had left, I forced my eyes open with a silent prayer I was back home, and this had all been a terrible dream.

  The familiar gray world looked exactly the same, darn it.

  “What happened?” I faced Malachi who sat beside me, holding my hand between his in a tight grip. I knew I should put some distance between us but having someone take care of me felt really good. Frowning, I tried to remember if that had ever happened to me before.

  “You tell me.”

  I snorted. “I wouldn’t be asking if I knew—I have no clue what just happened. Everything went fuzzy and then nothing. Knowing me, this probably won’t be the last time I’ll do something embarrassing.” I stared at the low hills on the horizon. They reminded me of my first foster home. The one place I’d been happy before being absorbed into the constant turmoil of the foster-care system. When I felt the most alone, I always went to my special place. No one could find me, and I could watch the hill’s dark blues and greens blend into the night sky.

  It was my favorite time of day, when the world slept. As the final rays of sunlight dissolved into night, the domed silhouettes in the distance wavered, giving them a ghost-like appearance. I used to imagine them as silent sentinels standing guard behind the small town where I lived.