Chapter 40
S am poised the knife at Kyla’s throat, the tip around an inch to the left and just under her voice box. She closed her eyes, her entire body shaking, her mind whirring with nothing but the fact she was about to slit her best friend’s throat.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice trembling. She opened her eyes. “I can’t do it.”
Lily turned her head and fixed Sam with a hardened stare. “If you don’t do it, she dies. I can’t do both. I need to be in charge of the body that takes the spirit, which means you need to be in charge of the body who loses the spirit.” She quirked an eyebrow up. “Do you understand me?”
“Let him do it,” Sam said, inclining her head towards Azazel.
“I just told you why he can’t touch those knives.”
Sam let out a whimper. “But he’s not going to do anything with him around, is he?” she said, motioning her head towards Malcolm.
Lily looked up at Malcolm, a silent exchange passing between them for a few seconds. “Can you?” Lily said, flicking her attention over to Azazel.
“You’re sure this will work?” he asked, stepping forwards, his eyes fixed on Kyla. He couldn’t ignore the ‘what if’ scenario of this not working that rolled around and around his mind. Surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to take his demi-soul from him before he’d even asked her for her heart?
Lily rolled her eyes. “WHY,” she yelled, then took a deep breath. “Is no one trusting me?”
“I’ll do it.” Dylan’s deep voice came from the open doorway. He strode forwards and held his hand out, moving his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion. “We need to get this done. Give it here.”
Sam let out an audible sigh of relief and moved away from Kyla, handing the knife over to her brother. Balthazar followed him inside the room, taking his place next to Sam.
“You don’t need to do the whole neck,” Lily said. She pointed to where Sam had had the knife. “Go from here to here, that’s more than enough,” she said, dragging her finger under Kyla’s voice box, stopping just over an inch to the right of it. “On my count. Got it?”
Dylan nodded. He took the knife, held it against Kyla’s creamy pale skin and focused on the task in hand. Now was not the time to think of what could happen beyond this. Things like this had to be tackled in stages.
First stage, knife. Second stage, make the cut. Third stage, get the witch out. Fourth stage, heal Kyla. Fifth stage, process what had just happened.
“You get ready to take my knife,” she said, giving Azazel a quick glance. Making eye contact with Dylan, she gave a single nod. “One. Two. Three.”
In unison, Lily and Dylan cut the throats of Kyla and Tony. Sam gasped and closed her eyes, turning her back as she watched her best friend’s life force pour from her throat. Balthazar wrapped her into a tight hug, whispering into her ear not to worry. Azazel sucked in a deep breath, wincing as he kept his eyes glued to Kyla, checking her constantly for signs of life. He could hear her heartbeat, steady and strong.
Lily all but threw her knife at Azazel. Once both of her hands were free, she took the purple cloth and placed one end over Kyla’s gaping wound. Stretching the long fabric towards Tony, she settled the other end over his open throat.
Dylan took hold of one of Kyla’s hands, noticing the cold, clammy feel to her palm straight away. He made brief eye contact with Azazel who pulled his lips into a thin line as her heartbeat slowed.
“Ego praecipio tibi,” Lily said, closing her eyes and hovering each hand over each throat. “Oriri ad lucem. In nominee omnium spirituum. Non habitabis. Tu in lucem cades. Et absolve animam tuam.”
Upon hearing the Latin words, Sam dared to turn around and look at what exactly Lily was doing. Seeing the end of the purple cape turning a dark red as Kyla’s blood soaked it through sent a cold shiver down her spine. It was only when a blue wisp of energy, like a thick fog around twelve inches long, floated through the purple fabric that Sam stilled and ignored the horror currently unfolding.
As Lily repeated her words, Sam’s mouth dropped wide open as she watched the energy glide across the length of the cape before slipping back through the cloth and into Tony’s throat.
“Dylan,” Lily said. “Heal Tony’s wound please. Azazel, you need to heal Kyla. She will take to demon blood better than werewolf blood.”
Dylan dropped Kyla’s hand and moved to Tony, biting into his wrist and tearing a chunk of flesh from it. Pressing the open wound against Tony’s mouth, he used his free hand to open the man’s lips and force his blood in.
Azazel rushed to Kyla, lifting his palm to slit it with the soul knife.
“NOT with that,” Lily yelled. “For goodness sake, boy. Give it here.” Azazel glanced down at the soul knife and back at Lily, confused. Before he could even think another word, she snatched it from his hand. “Unless you want your soul transported somewhere?”
“Not today, thanks,” he replied, grinning.
Tearing into his wrist exactly as Dylan had done, Azazel allowed his blood to flow into Kyla’s mouth, silently wishing with every drop that she would be fine and that this would work, that she would come back like a shiny new penny.
Lily removed the cape, carefully folding it to keep all the blood from dripping everywhere. Not that it would make much difference given the current decoration.
Less than ten seconds passed before the wounds on both stopped bleeding. Another ten seconds passed before the gaping holes were gone, no trace of anything having ever happened to either of them.
Tony came back to life, his eyes possessing a rabid wild stare as he stared around him. After a couple of seconds, a high-pitched shriek left him.
“You old bitch,” he shouted. “I’ll kill you for this. I’m not done, Lily. I will be back.”
Lily gave Malcolm a brief look.
“Take her,” Malcolm said, handing Kyla over to Azazel.
Azazel took her, gladly, keeping her close to his chest. Dylan narrowed his eyes, spikes of jealousy coursing through him at a rate of knots.
“Not the time, boys,” Malcolm said, moving to Lily’s side in two steps.
Lifting one of his giant hands, he tapped Tony in the middle of his forehead. “You still in there, fucker?”
Lily rolled her eyes and stepped away, going to Azazel to check on Kyla. She pressed the back of her hand to Kyla’s forehead. “How is her heartbeat?”
“Still weak,” Azazel said.
“She drained herself doing what she did to her mother,” Lily replied, casting an eye over the devastation that was her daughter’s body. “I shouldn’t have let her out of my house until she had learned some real magic.” Lily shook her head, tears clouding over his vision. “I had no idea she would come here and do this. Not this quickly.”
Azazel pressed his lips together, trying to think of an appropriate response. “She’s been very haunted by what happened for a long time. I think she just wanted it over with. As soon as she had the means to do it, she grabbed the opportunity with both hands.”
“Are you listening, Tony?” Malcolm said, slapping the man’s face. “I hope you’re seeing me, you sick little bastard. I might even take a special return trip to Hell just to tear you apart for the next century.”
The corner of Lily’s mouth quirked up into a half smile. “He will do that,” she said, glancing up at Azazel.
Azazel nodded and grinned. “I know he will.”
Malcolm thumped his right hand against Tony’s chest, his palm flat against him, his fingers splayed out. “I hope you feel every second of this, you miserable oxygen thief.”
Digging his fingers into Tony’s chest, he forced his way through the skin, grabbing at his ribs, crushing them as he clenched his hand into a fist.
Pulling his hand back out, he threw the handful of tissue and bone across the room before going back into the bloody hole and punching his way through the sternum, accessing Tony’s heart. In the blink of an eye, he ripped it out, pressed it to his lips, and bit a chunk out of it before then spitting it in Tony’s face.
“You’re mine now,” he said, pointing his index finger at Tony right as the light of life left the man’s eyes.
Throwing the heart across the room, Malcolm wiped his hands on his trousers, rubbed his mouth clean on the bottom of his jumper, and then turned around to Lily and Kyla.
“Is she awake yet?”
Lily shook her head.
Dylan moved over to Kyla, Malcolm’s presence making him feel somewhat restrained towards Azazel. Standing at her head, Dylan began stroking her hair softly, in a calming rhythm, as if he were comforting a young child.
After a couple of minutes, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his eyes closing as his lips lingered against the coolness of her skin.
Azazel watched Dylan, the tenderness in his touch hard to miss. A shred of guilt clenched at his heart as he realised just what Kyla meant to this man. There would be a lot worse fates for Kyla than being with a man like Dylan, hell, a werewolf like Dylan. Azazel knew the man would fight for her until his last breath, he could see it in him. After all, it was exactly how he’d felt about Cassia.
Suspecting what he did about his and Kyla’s ties, Azazel didn’t know how to process this. How would he have felt had some random guy come along and professed to Cassia that she was his demi-soul and needed to be with him?
Kyla’s fingers twitched, pulling him from his thoughts. When she let out a soft moan, her lips parting as she stirred in his arms, Azazel couldn’t help but wish that when she woke, his name would be the first on her lips, even if that would push a dagger of pain into Dylan’s gut.
Dylan leaned down and kissed her forehead again. “It’s ok,” he whispered. “We’re all here. You can come back to us now.”
Kyla opened her eyes, blinking several times. Then she said, “Azazel?”