Chapter 38
A zazel and Balthazar had no time to spare. Focusing on the ley lines, they teleported to the heart of the energy within the blink of an eye.
The instant they appeared outside the stereotypical family home, they both took in their surroundings. And set eyes on Sam’s car at the same moment.
“Sam can’t be the witch,” Balthazar whispered, his mind running riot. “It’s not possible.”
Azazel pulled his lips into a thin line. “That’s Sam’s car. But she’s not had it since the incident the other night.” He quirked an eyebrow up as he looked at his brother, wondering when the penny would drop.
“Kyla,” Balthazar replied. He looked towards the house, the metallic scent of blood already tinging the air. “It can’t be her, surely?”
“No!” Kyla screamed.
Azazel raced towards the house, Balthazar close behind. Bursting through the front door, ripping it off its hinges, Azazel rushed into the living room just in time to see Kyla collapse on the floor. She locked eyes with him a split second before her eyelids fluttered closed.
There were few times in Azazel’s life where he willingly admitted he was wrong or made an ‘error in judgement’ as he preferred to call it. However, this current moment, of seeing Kyla unconscious, surrounded by her murderous activities, was something he realised he had gotten totally wrong. He’d seen something dark and lurking in her but too afraid of scratching his own wounds, he’d ignored it.
Now, that old shrew, Mildred, had made her move, exactly as he and Balthazar had feared. Now they were too late.
Sitting on the floor, Azazel lifted Kyla up, pulling her away from her mother’s body, cradling her head in his lap. The fact that she had tortured her own tormentors intrigued him immensely. Not only was he fascinated by the sheer depravity her imagination went to, but he found himself contemplating the situation with Balthazar.
Sure, the pair had had their fair share of fights, but the fact they knew they would never fully die surely played a part in the frightening carousel of their sibling war. How would things have panned out if they both knew the kill would be it, the final cut?
Despite everything that had happened, would he prefer a life without his brother? Mulling it over, he decided no, he wouldn’t. He and Balthazar had endured times darker than most relationships, and in all honesty, that was something to be proud of. They still bickered, but that was no different to any other friendship or relationship in the universe.
Somehow though, in Kyla’s case, all this murderous chaos seemed to be healing something inside her. Was that normal or did it just mean she was different?
“Azazel!”
Balthazar’s shout of despair cut through the demon’s ponderings in an instant.
“Yeah?” he said, still slightly dazed by his deep thinking.
It was when he registered his brother hurtling towards him at full speed that he realised he’d lost the moment.
“Fucking move!” Balthazar yelled, pelting towards him.
Seconds later, Balthazar flew back through the air, crashing into a wall. Before Azazel could even think, a huge weight knocked him flat on his back. Looking up, Azazel wasn’t surprised to see the huge furry head of a mahogany brown wolf, its dark eyes boring straight into him, its front paws on either shoulder, pinning him to the floor with its weight.
“For fucks sake, Dylan,” he shouted. “I’m trying to help her. Get off.”
A dinner plate sized paw smacked Azazel around the head, leaving him stunned and with his ears ringing. To top things off, the beast used him as a springboard to hurl himself back at Balthazar.
Meeting one another in a mid-air bear-hug, the demon and the wolf wrestled for a few seconds. Grunts sounded from both sides until after a few seconds, the sound of a body being thudded against the earth signified a winner.
It wasn’t Balthazar.
As three more wolves hurtled past Balthazar and his temporary captor, the squealing of car tires and dirt being scuffed filled the air.
“Dylan, no!”
That sweet, honey laden voice caught Balthazar’s attention immediately. He fought with the oversized dog to see if what his ears told him were true—Sam was here. Sure enough, like an angel in the midst of darkness, there she was.
She ran towards him, her golden hair streaming behind her like a ray of sunshine. The wolf jumped off Balthazar and put itself between Sam and the demon. Not caring for the family ties, Balthazar could think of nothing but eliminating the threat that could keep him from his demi-soul. He would die a thousand times before losing his one shot of happiness.
Leaping onto the beast’s back, Balthazar held onto its wild bucks, twists and turns like a cowboy, all the while shouting at Sam to get away.
Azazel, still recovering from his belt to the head from the damn wolf, sat up and looked around him, dumbfounded. When he saw Sam, stood a few feet away from him, smiling, he frowned, and said, “Well that escalated quickly.”
“Get your ass up,” she hissed. “I knew something wasn’t right with you two. Do you have any idea how complicated you’ve just made all of this?”
“Me?” Azazel said, struggling to believe he was being blamed. “I’m the good guy here.”
“You should have told us from the outset what you were, dammit. Could have avoided all of this.”
Azazel snorted. “I doubt that, sweetheart. You lot might have the roles of peacekeepers, but you’re just as dirty as the rest of us. The only difference is you have a righteous mask to hide behind.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Actually, for the first time ever, I’m quite offended. By rights, I don’t have to do anything. Heck, I don’t even know why the fuck me and him are getting involved anyway. The only motivation for me right now is being on the good side of your best friend so I don’t get zapped to hell for the rest of eternity. Aside from that, you can keep your stupid politics.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. Her emerald eyes looked past Azazel, trying to focus on what had happened in the room. Anna-Rose lay on the floor, her chest cavity wide open, her heart missing, but her piercing blue eyes roving with a wild glare only a possessed person could muster. Blood was sprinkled everywhere, like Tinkerbell had been in here and sprayed glitter dust for decoration.
She saw the bundle of thick, brown vines in the corner, two sets of fear filled eyes watching everything happen in front of them.
Tony, held by vines, blood streaming from between his legs where the glint of metal reflected back at her, blinked furiously at her, as if trying to communicate something to her. The stench of burnt flesh and urine singed the hairs in her nose, making her want to vomit.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “You almost killed her scraping your baby from her but then you go and have two kids with her mum? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tony stared back at her, not a flicker of regret or remorse.
“You’re a piece of shit. I can’t wait until we’re in hell together for all eternity.”
A loud crash followed by a deathly snarl caught her attention. She whirled around to see Dylan holding off Balthazar and Azazel as the other three pack members Dylan had called in had their jaws locked around Kyla’s body—one on each wrist and one around the throat. Blood dripped from the wounds already and judging from the growls vibrating each of their bodies, whatever the hell was going on with Kyla was life threatening.
Sam gasped, covering her hands with her mouth as she watched her friend’s vibrant red hair turn darker by the second, streaks of black lining her hair like tiger stripes.
“She’s being inhabited,” Sam said, desperation flooding her in an instant.
“I know,” Azazel replied. “That’s why we’re here. We were going to stop it.”
Sam folded her arms over her chest and glanced down at Kyla. “Cracking job.”
“I don’t see you doing much.”
Sam quirked an eyebrow up. “My pack members are stopping it from happening. If you two back off and let Dylan help as well, this would all be over with much sooner.”
“MOVE.”
The deep bellow froze everyone, even the wolves who were wrestling with Kyla’s unconscious body.
Azazel turned around to see his brother stood behind him, ash white, like he’d seen a ghost. When he looked at the gigantic figure blocking the doorway, and heard that voice, Azazel resisted the urge to run in fear.
“Malpass?” Balthazar said, his voice trembling.
Two steely-grey eyes settled on the mild-mannered demon. A twisted, unnerving smile flashed across the old man’s face.
“Let me at my grandbaby. NOW.”
Azazel nearly choked. “She’s your what ? Kyla is your granddaughter?”
Malcolm fixed Azazel a deadpan stare. “Best remember that for when she wakes up, Zay Zay. You owe her a new car and a decent meal.”
Balthazar sniggered. A muscle in Azazel’s jaw ticked as he scraped his teeth together in an effort to keep his mouth shut.
Seconds later, an older lady walked through, carrying a neatly folded purple cape. Neither demon needed to ask who she was. The piercing blue eyes, the quiet determination, and the general presence of her intimidating nature spoke volumes about her role as Kyla’s grandmother.
She looked at the scene around her and allowed a stray tear to roll down her cheek. “We can fix this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But I need the wolves to let go.”
Dylan growled and shook his head.
Sam gave Lily a look of despair. “They’re the only thing stopping her from being fully inhabited.”
“I know, dear, but I can’t do my job if they don’t let go.”
Sam nodded and glared at her brother. He curled his top lip back and snarled in response.
“Have some respect,” Balthazar said, stepping in front of Sam to face off her brother again.
Dylan snapped his jaw and took a step forward.
Balthazar narrowed his eyes at him. “You wanna go again, big boy? Come on then.”
Before the wolf or the demon could do anything, Malcolm leaned down, picked Dylan up by the scruff of his neck, Balthazar by his ear, and threw them both out of the door. Several seconds passed before the thud of bodies hitting the floor sounded their new destination.
The wolves holding Kyla looked at Sam, finally retreating when she nodded for them to let go. Sam glanced at Azazel, expecting some kind of explanation for his sudden submissive role.
“Malpass,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “The General of Hell. Even I’m not stupid enough to piss him off.”
“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, moving to Lily’s side.
“No, dear. Thank you. Just some space and a bit of time.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Have a little fun. Malcolm—can you hold her next to him please?”
Doing just as his wife asked, Malcolm scooped up the limp body of his granddaughter and held her in his arms next to the worthless piece of shit that was Tony.
Lily unfolded the purple cape she’d been carrying. Tying one end around Kyla’s throat, and the other end around Tony’s throat, she stood up, excited to be performing some old school magick after so many years out of the game.
“I do believe,” Lily said, smirking. “This will be the first trans-gender body possession.”
Azazel chuckled. “Interesting. Shall I record it or something?”
Lily scrunched her nose up. “Probably not. It’s not like he’s going to live to tell the tale.” She leaned forwards and retrieved two daggers that were tucked under Malcolm’s waistband. “I need you to listen to me very carefully,” she said, looking at Sam. “The soul escapes the body through the throat. That old witch is buried deep enough in Kyla to—”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Sam said, shaking her head. “I know where you’re going with this. No way. No. I can’t believe you’re even contemplating this after everything she’s been through.”
Squaring her shoulders, Lily glared at Sam. “These are soul knives,” she said, lifting the two knives up in the air. Their six-inch-long curved serrated blades reflected light off them, the amethyst and ruby jewelled handles hypnotising in their beauty. “There are only six of these in existence. They’re incredibly powerful and used in the right way can literally channel a soul anywhere. Could you imagine the havoc he could cause with one of these?”
Azazel held his hand up, like he was in class. “Can I just say that—”
Malcolm narrowed his eyes at Azazel, silencing him immediately.
“You promise,” Sam said, tentatively taking one of the knives. “That this will work?”
Lily nodded. “But we need to act quickly.”
Glancing at her unconscious friend, whose hair colour would now rival that of any raven, Sam realised she had no choice but to slit her best friend’s throat.