Chapter 50
Holy Goddess.Demons.
Those ravaged bodies out in the woods were the work of demons.
That’s my fate and Memnon’s unless I can escape this fucking spell circle.
Memnon!I call out to him, more desperate than ever. Wake up! I nearly weep out the command.
But the other end of the bond stays placid. The sorcerer is still asleep.
My mind races. I have minutes until midnight to figure out some sort of game plan.
Unfortunately, I don’t know much about demons. They’ve always been slotted in with the dark magic shit that witches aren’t supposed to trifle with. Not reading about them has probably fucked me over.
“Why are you summoning demons?” I ask.
Luca tilts his head. “We’re not simply summoning them,” the sorcerer admits. “We’re binding them.”
“Binding them?” I echo. Even as I say it, the Fortunas’ entire industry becomes clear, and my blood runs cold.
They’re in the business of trafficking supernaturals. I assumed that was limited to those of us who were of this realm, but it’s clearly not. They’re moving demons too.
My eyes touch briefly on the somewhat anxious-looking scholar. That…that must be Luca’s client, the one who is buying this demon’s bond.
“If this is about binding demons,” I say slowly, returning my attention to Luca, “then what do you need me for?”
“Demons are different from mortals,” Luca replies, backing up. “They need to feed once they come here if they wish to remain.” His eyes skate over my form. “They like the young ones in particular. Something about their innocence and vitality makes them taste richer, sweeter. We use that to get the demons to bond.”
I vividly recall the body of Charlotte Evensen. It had been badly mutilated, and all her organs had been removed…
No, eaten.
Nausea rolls through me.
I glance down at the cut on my own chest, the bloody wound making much more sense now. Like throwing bleeding bait overboard in hopes it will lure in a shark.
I force my rising terror down.
Focus.
I’m not going to die tonight. Not like this.
On impulse, I reach for my heels and remove them, tossing one then the other aside so I can be light on my feet. I try not to grimace as the chill from the floor seeps into my skin.
Next, I turn to the walls of my prison. Spell circles like this one, which has been activated in blood, are notoriously hard for anyone but the spellcaster to undo.
However, at the end of the day, a spell circle is nothing more than a really strong ward. Wards themselves are essentially giant tapestries, and like tapestries, they can be unraveled if one knows where to pull.
I look for the telltale magical signature, but if it’s there, it’s just as translucent as the rest of the circle’s walls.
Luca glances down at a fancy gold watch on his wrist. “It’s about time we begin.” he says to the older man. “Are you ready, Jacques?”
“Yes,” Jacques replies, his eyes alight with excitement.
“Good,” Luca says. With a final, heavy look at me, the sorcerer begins incanting in Latin again.
“From the infernal fires of hell, I call forth Asmodeth, devourer of the damned, reveler of the anguished. Curse weaver and soul eater. Rise within the circle I have cast.”
The air smokes, then sizzles. Noxious plumes rise from the ground. Rather than dissipating into the air, it begins to shape itself into the form of a man.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The curling black smoke coalesces.
On the other end of my bond, I feel the spark of awareness.
Selene! Memnon bellows down our bond. It’s his first thought.
Memnon, forget about me. They’re summoning demons,I rush out. We’re about to fight for our lives.
It’s quiet for a long, pensive moment. How do you know this? he finally asks.
I’m trapped in a demon-summoning circle. After a moment, I add, Aren’t you?
Rather than answering, the floor begins to tremble, and I can feel the burn of Memnon’s rapidly growing rage.
Memnon, do not give whoever is there with you another reason to knock you out,I beg him. I will be all right. Stay safe. I need to go.
I pull away before he can say more, and I ready my magic. For this fight, I’ll need all my attention to remain on my opponent.
The demon is now less dark smoke and more flesh and bone, the magic solidifying into body parts. I study the creature’s features as they take shape.
I’ve heard that some demons are truly hideous looking, with forked serpent tongues, razor-sharp teeth, and slitted noses, but this one looks like a man, and a handsome one at that—if you can get past his sharpened claws, the horizontal pupils at the centers of his eyes, and the wicked horns that curve away from his face. He’s also as naked as the day he was born—or formed or damned or however the hell demons are created.
“Asmodeth,” Luca says, “I offer this witch to you as a sign of my good will.”
The demon takes a step toward me, his nostril’s flaring.
“But be warned. It comes at a price. With the first swallow of her blood, you bind your body and will to Jacques Allard. You will roam the earth, deathless and unchanging for the span of this mortal’s lifetime. Upon Jacques’s death, the bond shall be severed, and you shall return to the Underworld.
“You have until the rise of the sun to make your decision, or else you shall be banished back to the fiery realm from whence you came.”
Asmodeth turns from me and levels a look at the men standing there. “I want a soul. Only that will do.”
“You shall only get a body,” Luca says smoothly.
Asmodeth’s laughter fills the space, raising the hairs at the nape of my neck. “Insolent human. Do you have any concept of who I am?”
As he speaks, his head keeps drifting in my direction, and his nostrils continue to flare, like he’s distracted by the smell of me.
Because he wants to eat me.
Fuck, do I attack him? Do I let this play out? Do I and the demon enter into an unholy pact where we become reluctant allies?
That last one sounds good, except again, he wants to eat me.
“Of course I know who you are,” Luca says. “It’s all laid out in this book. The legions you command, the damned you oversee. You can go back to it all at first light, or you can bind yourself to this mage next to me and see your first true sunrise in one hundred and seven years.”
Asmodeth stares at Luca and Jacques for a long moment. Then, slowly, the demon turns to me.
Fuck. I think he’s made his decision.
I shift my weight, drawing my magic close. The demon’s eyes dip to the cut along my chest, and his pupils blow wide.
Asmodeth snarls, then he lunges for me. I dive to the side, banging hard against the invisible barrier.
I barely have time to pivot before the demon is charging again. And again I dive out of the way, only just escaping the attack.
The action is futile. There’s nowhere to go. The circle can’t be more than twenty feet in diameter. I can keep this up for another few minutes, but I’m going to stumble eventually, and the beast will get me. He’s practically vibrating with need.
I form my magic in my hand.
“Explode,” I whisper, lobbing the spell at him.
BOOM!
It detonates before it even reaches Asmodeth, blowing the demon into the air. He slams against the curved walls of the spell circle, then falls to the ground. His shoulder is mildly cut up, but for the most part, he looks unharmed.
Jacques has crept near the edge of the circle, his eyes rapt as he watches me and Asmodeth.
“Do not get close,” Luca warns. “If you smudge the salt, the demon can escape unbonded, and if any part of you crosses the barrier, you can be dragged in, and the demon gets a free meal.”
I draw together my power as, across from me, Asmodeth rises.
“Annihilate.” The curse hisses out of me, hitting him square in the chest.
The demon grunts as he staggers back, but the spell that should have blown him to bits seems to sink into him.
Asmodeth laughs. “I am made of curses, witch. They do not harm me. They fuel me.”
That bit of information would’ve been helpful a while ago.
From the other side of my bond, I feel a burst of pain.
Memnon!
I hear him laugh across our connection. I am fine, est amage. Just fighting a worthy opponent. Hold fast, and give these creatures hell.
While I’m half-distracted, the demon rushes me, his claws extended. His body slams into mine, taking us both to the ground.
Shit. I go for one of my daggers, but the weapon is pinned beneath the silk dress, and the silk dress is pinned beneath the demon.
I grunt as Asmodeth presses his face into my wound. His wet tongue licks up the slit of the cut, and ugh, that is so fucking gross.
He groans. “Haven’t tasted flesh in a long time.”
Beneath us, the ground trembles.
“He did it,” Jacques says way too eagerly. “The demon tasted her.”
“Congratulations,” Luca murmurs. “He’s agreed to the bond. Now we simply wait for him to finish.”
Finish me, they mean.
Asmodeth’s lips curl back to reveal two rows of sharp teeth. The sight is frightening, terrible.
You too are a dark, deadly thing, I remind myself. I gave myself to that earth for two millennia, and now I can easily draw power from it.
Here, deep in the bowels of the earth, at midnight of the new moon, the magic beneath the ground is especially potent. I press my hands to the cold floor, reaching for the buried power, siphoning it up from the earth. My palms prick as magic seeps into my flesh, then my bloodstream. It gathers like a storm in my veins.
Mistress of old, something far beneath me whispers, we’ve tasted your blood and bones before…
The demon pauses, his head cocking to the side.
“The Old Ones speak to you? And they’ve tasted you?” His eyes flit over my body. “How very interesting.” He casually swipes out, his claws cleanly slicing through my dress and the skin beneath.
I jerk, swallowing my scream as my blood wells.
“I don’t often meet curious mortals,” he says. “A pity you have to die. I will enjoy feasting on you though.” Asmodeth leans forward, his teeth and tongue hot on my injured flesh.
I draw my power together, and all at once, I shove my hands and my power at him. “Get off me.”
Clouds of my orange magic blow the demon back clear across the spell circle. I hear the smack of flesh as his body hits the ground.
I force myself to my feet, but just as quickly as I rise, Asmodeth does as well. A low, demonic growl rises from him, and when he glances at me, his eyes flash red.
I raise a hand. “Stop,” I command in Sarmatian, my power rushing out of me.
The demon freezes in place, his body going still beneath my spell. It holds for mere seconds before Asmodeth breaks through it, then barrels toward me once more.
I draw more power from beneath the soles of my feet.
Empress, the voices below hiss out, amage…mistress…queen…how we hunger…
“Explode.” I cast the spell at the demon, aware it will hardly affect him.
BOOM!
It detonates against his shoulder, throwing him against the wall of the spell circle for a moment.
Blood drips down my torso, but I’m too focused on Asmodeth to heal myself. My hand hovers over my thigh, where my dagger rests hidden.
In battle, you cannot solely rely on magic to save you.Memnon told me that long ago.
I will myself to believe it as Asmodeth closes in on me. I draw in a breath, growing calm as the demon reaches me. This time, I don’t cast a spell, and I don’t dive away. I let Asmodeth crash into me, slamming my body against the walls of the circle.
If the demon is surprised by my sudden lack of fight, he doesn’t stop to question it. His mouth opens, and his lips peel back, his gaze fixed on my throat.
All at once, he lunges for it.
Now.
I withdraw my dagger, and just as those sharp canines close around my neck, I sink my blade into his throat.
Asmodeth lets out an unholy cry, releasing my bloody neck. I yank the dagger out, and black blood spatters onto my dress and skin. Once more, I slam the blade into his throat.
The demon shrieks, then falls from me, my dagger making a wet noise as it exits the wound. Asmodeth hits the ground hard, and as he lays there, he weakly places a clawed hand against his neck. Blood rapidly spills out from between his fingers.
The whole building trembles, and someone somewhere is shitting their pants right now that they underestimated my mate.
I breathe heavily as I stare down at Asmodeth. I don’t believe demons can be killed, merely sent back to the Underworld.
I round on the demon’s body. Though every fiber of my being is screaming at me to run from this creature, I move to straddle him, my dagger still loosely held in my hands.
Weakly, he swipes at me, his claws parting my flesh like a knife through butter. The pain bursts to life along my arms and torso, but I ignore it, raising my dagger.
I bring it down sharply, letting my magic guide my movements. The thin blade cleanly slides between Asmodeth’s ribs and impales his heart.
The demon’s scream echoes through the room, the sound terrifying and not of this world.
I draw on both my own blood and the demon’s, the crimson liquid burning up as my power devours it. And then I call on the magic beneath the earth, pulling it into me.
We give you power. Give us something in return.
I ignore the voices and cobble together a spell.
“From blood and air, to rock and flame.” As I incant, I fold my power into the words.“I banish you back from whence you came.”
My magic detonates, filling the space in a massive cloud of pale orange plumes. I can’t see anything, but it doesn’t matter, I can feel my magic pressing in on the demon.
“I assure you,” Luca says somewhere beyond the circle, “she cannot send the creature back.”
Old queen, forgotten queen…the voices murmur.
Harder and harder, my power tightens on the demon. I see the plumes of it push and push against the demon bleeding out.
Asmodeth tries to fight the magic, but he’s lost so much blood, and my power holds him fast.
My body trembles as I continue to exert force, pressing, pressing. I scream at the energy it takes, my limbs beginning to tremble as my power strains.
All at once, there’s a pop, then Asmodeth is gone.
I’m breathing hard as I kneel on the now empty ground, which is scrubbed clean of all the black blood that pooled on it a moment ago. I can hear the steady drip of my own bleeding wounds. Aside from that, the room is deathly silent.
Eventually, Jacques says, “You said she couldn’t send the demon back?”
“That’s…never happened before.” Luca clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter. We can try summoning Asmodeth once more…though he might be too weak to make the journey. I have another demon in mind that might be perfect.” He begins flipping through the pages of The Book of the Damned.
I glare at the pair of them and gather my magic.
I’m too angry and too impatient to study this spell circle for some exploitable weakness. I want out now.
I rise from the floor and draw on my magic remorselessly. One of the most basic aspects of a spell circle is that power moves in two directions along them: clockwise for creation, counterclockwise for destruction.
My blood continues to drip from the wounds on my chest, but for what I intend, I know intuitively that I need more. I drag the knife I still hold across my wrist and let my blood flow freely.
This whole time, I’ve been pretending to be something wholesome when being wholesome meant denying this part of me.
I let the blood drip down my fisted hand to the ground, my bare feet stepping over the droplets as I begin to walk in a counterclockwise motion.
“To the gods that dwell beneath my feet,” I call out in Sarmatian, “give me power, and I will give you blood.” My voice sounds deeper, stronger, surer as I speak.
I sense something beneath me moving toward my offering. The blood on the floor evaporates, and thick, smoky plumes of my orange magic rise up, streaked with veins of inky black. Dark magic.
Distantly, I’m aware that my power is falling on the wrong side of good and evil. But too much of me thrills at the thick ropes of power I drag up from the earth. It’s so much more magic than what the ground usually offers up.
We hunger for more, mistress…more blood. We have missed the taste of you…
I let my blood continue to fall as I pace the perimeter of the circle. “From air, I breathe. With fire, I burn. From water, I drink. To earth, all shall return.”
Blood magic is destructive magic, and I drag that destruction along with every step I take. It batters at the ward, and I sense the walls that entrap me weakening. The ground begins to tremble, but this time, Memnon isn’t responsible for it.
“Sky above, spirits below, my blood you take.” The coven was a match; this is an inferno. “This ward unmake.” My gaze falls to Luca.“This spell I break.”
BOOM!
Power floods out of me, shattering the walls of the spell circle. It sweeps across the room, blowing the salt away and throwing the men backward.
I stand there, wounded and bloodstained, as my magic retreats into me, clearing the air.
Fearsome mate, I felt that,Memnon says down our bond. I swear I hear the sorcerer’s low laugh. The Fortunas made a mistake trying to capture a true Sarmatian queen. I hope you make them pay for it.
I am.With that, I pull away from our connection. I grip my dagger tightly and stride forward, the pads of my feet stepping on all those old, nearly forgotten bloodstains. Magic still lingers in those stains, stale and fetid but there nonetheless. I pull it into me, and the stains hiss as they simmer away.
This power came from the blood of my coven sisters, my mage brothers, and my lycan friends—them and perhaps other innocent supernaturals who were forced to give up their lives. It’s wrong to form another’s pain into power, but these individuals have already suffered. I won’t let it be for nothing.
Both Luca and Jacques are pushing themselves up from where they’ve fallen.
I draw together my magic?—
Luca incants beneath his breath, and a split-second later, a curse hits me in the abdomen. The magic impales my torso as though it were a stake.
I stagger, choking on the pain, then fall.
SELENE!Memnon roars. The building shakes violently.
Luca drags himself the rest of the way up from the ground, his arm still outstretched. Tucked under his other arm is the hateful Book of the Damned. It still smokes, that acrid power wafting off it.
“Fucking cunt,” he spits out. “You think you can best me? In my own home? I haven’t survived all these years on might alone…”
He continues speaking, but I stop listening when I sense those beings in the ground beneath me. They clamor close, lured in by my spilled blood.
They can have it.
“Take my blood but spare my life,” I whisper. “Feast instead on Luca Fortuna and Jacques Allard.”
My blood sinks into the floor, drawn down by the creatures beneath me.
A moment later, the ground trembles, and a crack forms beneath my legs. It slithers forward, breaking concrete and heading right for Luca. Another crack branches from it, moving toward Jacques.
As soon as the crack reaches him, it widens to a fissure. The building creaks under the pressure.
“Fuck!” Jacques curses as one of his legs falls through the growing opening. The earth continues to shake as he attempts to pull his leg from the hole. He’s almost gotten himself out of the fissure when the ground beneath his hands and upper torso falls away. His body is swallowed into the earth, and the last thing I hear is his echoing cry.
“What in God’s name have you done?” Luca shouts as the other crack follows him across the room.
I’d love to answer, but the crack beneath me now widens. I drag myself away, crying out a little as the pain in my stomach darkens my vision.
The earth shakes again, and the floor beneath the sorcerer crumbles away. Luca drops The Book of the Damned to lunge for solid ground, but it too gives way under his body. His hands manage to catch the lip of the concrete floor, exposed rebar jutting out from it.
Luca’s eyes meet mine for an instant, and I see true terror in his eyes. Then the concrete lip he holds onto collapses, and the sorcerer falls.
He’s barely disappeared from sight when the ground begins to seal back up, the building shrieking and swaying as it does so.
Above me, the lights in the chandeliers flicker.
Rejoin us, Empress. Your blood tastes better when it comes with your flesh…
As the voices speak, the floor beneath my own legs disintegrates.
Oh fuck.
It feels like a direct portal to the Underworld has been ripped open beneath my feet.
I scramble to get to more solid ground, crying out as the movement tugs at my injuries. More of the ground falls away beneath my stomach, and I swallow my fear as my bloodied hands grip the smooth, chilled concrete for dear life. I struggle to pull myself farther out of the hole, but my muscles are shaking, and my strength is waning, and every time I move, I feel like I’m tearing through a bit more of my innards.
I don’t know why I’m fighting this. If these gods that dwell beneath the earth want me, I’ll have to live in the sky to truly stop them.
At the thought, my grip loosens, and I slide a little deeper into the fissure.
Don’t you dare stop fighting.Memnon’s voice rings out down our bond.
The double doors blow open, and my soul mate strides in, his magic billowing around him like churning storm clouds. His hair is stirring, and his eyes glow the faintest amount. He himself looks thoroughly torn up. His tux is in shreds, and claw marks run along his forearms, legs, and back. He even has a gruesome set running along the underside of his jaw.
I make a small sound at the state he’s in, and the noise draws his eyes to mine. The moment he sees me, his magic barrels across the room. It molds itself around my body and drags me forward, out of the chasm.
I scream as the movement jostles my innards.
“Selene!” Memnon roars.
I can no longer see him, not when his magic surrounds me. But then, I feel his hands on me.
He murmurs a quick spell, and my pain vanishes. An instant later, he pulls me into his arms, sitting back on his haunches to hold me, his hand moving to my abdominal wound.
Before he can press a healing spell against it, the ground shudders again, dislodging his grip on my stomach and sliding the two of us forward. It feels as though the earth itself is trying to pitch us into the massive crack Memnon just dragged me out of.
Mistress…join us as you once did…
My eyes move to the dark opening down, down in the deep earth, and I grit my teeth.
“No,” I say.
Memnon gives me a curious look before following my gaze. He studies the fissure for several seconds, then returns his attention to me.
You’ve been speaking to the Hungering Ones, haven’t you?he says down our bond.
They didn’t seem so bad when I was facing down a demon, I admit wearily.
It seems they’ve acquired a taste for powerful witches.
Memnon lifts his eyes from mine. To the chasm in the earth, he says in Sarmatian, “Old gods below, you cannot have Selene. She is mine. Honor your oaths, and take my blood as an offering of peace.”
The sorcerer unsheathes the blade strapped to his side. In one sharp motion, he cuts his forearm and lets the blood pour onto the ground.
The shaking slows, then eventually stops altogether.
The room grows very, very quiet, save for the drip of Memnon’s blood.
My eyes meet my mate’s eyes, feeling exposed. “Thank you.” Whatever those voices are, they are boogeymen.
The glow in his eyes fades back to brown. “Est amage, you do not need to thank me for things that come with being your soul mate. We pull each other back from the edge.”
He wipes his blade and returns it to its sheath.
Memnon’s gaze drops to my stomach and my mess of a wound. He makes an agonized sound. “Est amage.”
Memnon’s hand covers my injury once more, his fingers splayed out across it, and I can feel the lick of his magic as it seeps in, the tingling warmth spreading through my flesh. He murmurs the Mochica curse-breaking spell, and I sense some inner darkness release and flitter away with it.
“As much as I love your ferocity, I cannot stand this part of it,” Memnon admits. His words are punctuated by the uncomfortable tugging sensation as his healing spell takes root and my innards reform. “Where is the demon?” Memnon asks.
“Where he belongs,” I say.
A smile curves his lips, and he tilts his head so he can see me better. “That’s my queen.” His eyes sweep over the mess of the room. “I notice the spell circle you mentioned is gone as well.”
“I really don’t like being trapped.”
Memnon laughs, the sound light and joyful. It’s at odds with the oppressive magic that saturates the very walls of this room.
“Of course you don’t,” he says mirthfully. “You are a Sarmatian queen, made to roam the boundless, open plains of the steppe. Your soul is made of vaster stuff.” He pulls his hand away from my midsection, studying the pink, newly formed skin. My mate lets out a shuddering breath. “How does your stomach feel?”
“Fine,” I say dismissively, staring up at his face. I don’t care about my stomach at the moment.
I grab the tattered lapels of his tux and drag him to me. His lips meet mine, and we’re kissing each other feverishly, as though the world is ending. It’s bruising, desperate. We are in Rome, we are in Bosporus, we are on the Eurasian steppe, and we are here.
We are eternal.
I feel my heart…give in.
I gasp into his mouth at the sensation.
Immediately, Memnon pulls away, his eyes returning to my former injury. He places a hand back on the skin and presses his power into me.
I grab his wrist. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” I say softly.
My scary, violent sorcerer takes a deep breath. “Little witch, there will always be a part of me that fears your mortality, and right now…I just want to hold you for a little longer.”
So the two of us stay there for another minute, Memnon holding me against him. I lightly grasp Memnon’s forearm and press a wordless healing spell into his skin. Almost immediately, the claw marks begin to seal up. I watch them mend, now knowing the creature that inflicted them.
“How did you get rid of your demon?” I ask.
“I beheaded the first and second. The third one, I stabbed in the heart.”
“You faced three demons?” I say, my voice hushed. One was hard enough.
“Leonard was determined to kill me off.”
I stiffen. “What happened to him?”
“Dead. He bled out from a nicked artery.” Memnon’s voice grows cold. “It was too quick and too clean for a monster like him.”
I shiver as I think about those old bloodstains on the floor.
There’s still one Fortuna left, and—shit, Sybil.
I stand too quickly, then sway a little.
“Easy, Empress,” Memnon says, rising up.
“We need to save my friend.”
He groans—groans! “Must you make me act honorably?”
“Memnon!”
There’s a gleam in his eyes. “I tease.” He reaches for my hand. “Let’s go save your friend.”