Bewitch The Dark - The Devil To Pay Part 20

"Impossible." Though she'd take it.

Because along with the unraveled spells, her life would also come undone. She guarded the book, and in turn it guarded her. Her life belonged to the book. She had taken a vow centuries ago. Her agreement to protect the book had been forged into its pages.

It had been written in her blood. Her heart beat because her blood flowed upon the page. Unlike other witches, she did not require a source once a century; the book held the key to her life.

Now that the book was no longer under her guardianship, the spell could be broken. Her blood would seep from the page were it not cared for properly.

And when the last drop dissipated, so would she.

A city bus rumbled by on the street, spitting up water from the previous rain onto her ankles. Dez stopped on a corner to wait for a green light.

The sky was forgoing twilight for true night, yet the city lights gave everything a gaudy glow. Looking about for the first time, she couldn't spy a landmark-not that she'd recognize one in this city if she stood immediately before it. Neon flashed everywhere and the thump of a distant boom box suggested she shake her booty.

She should catch a cab. And then where? Maybe there was a hotel close by. She didn't have cash. She had nothing. When Ivan had whisked her onto his private jet this morning, she'd been going along for the adventure. And the s.e.x.

Had a little s.e.x reduced her to such a fool?

"I have to face the Gray Council. I must expose my wrongs."

If only to get help. She wasn't sure what the council could do. They'd wanted the Protection spell reversed. Impossible now with the grimoire gone. No longer would they revere her, for what did she have to protect?

Could Ivan's mother offer advice? Dez had recognized Ravin immediately, though she wasn't sure the witch remembered her. It had been the Belle Epoque, in Paris, when she'd known the boisterous slayer of vampires. They'd had a common friend, Dominique San Juste. Dez was sure Ravin had been more than friends with the absinthe-addicted fairy.

"What am I thinking? She's a youngling. A loose cannon. And now she's married to a vampire and her son is the devil's fixer.

What the h.e.l.l happened with that chick?"

Dodging to the right to avoid a man who walked too close on the sidewalk, Dez stumbled and caught herself against the abrasive corner of a brick building.

How soon before her life began to leak away? Surely Himself would go immediately to her life spell and suck her blood from the page? Her death would be easy for the Old Lad.

Of course, she knew he never did things the easy way. Himself enjoyed the play, the macabre manipulation of earthbound souls. A hand grabbed her by the upper arm, and wrenched her backward. Stumbling in her high heels, she was dragged into the darkest depths of a narrow alley.

A thought to scream emerged, but then confidence rose. A couple of mortals set on ha.s.sling her? No problem. She wasn't so freaked by her own indiscretions she could not defend her very life.

She was slammed against the brick wall, and her breath chuffed from her lungs. She momentarily lost her vision and the white light spell that had been on the tip of her tongue.

Three of them stared her down. Not mortal. Their auras were crimson, with specks of ash. Vampires.

Fangs glinted menacingly. Dez's heart ricocheted against her ribs. Did they know she was a witch? There was no way they could know. Or did they usually gang up on innocent mortals in such a manner? h.e.l.l, she'd thought vampires were merely after her kind, but if this is how they acted toward everyone...

"Want a bite?" one of the churlish vamps asked. "You look like you could use a nibble. Don't worry, it'll only hurt for a second.

Me first."

The biggest and strongest of the threesome lunged for her.

Dez bit her lip. It hurt, and she could have let the vampire bite her, but no vampire was going to stab his fang into her neck.

Spitting, her blood landed on the vamp's cheek as he closed on her.

The contact worked fast. Smoke spiraled from his cheek. He slapped a palm to it. "What the h.e.l.l?"

"She's a b.l.o.o.d.y witch!" one of the others cried.

The big one faltered and stepped away. Dez expected the other two to flee in horror, but they did not.

"We know how to take care of witches," one of them hissed.

A gloved hand slapped over her mouth, hard. She could not move her jaw to bite or spit. Another of the vampires shackled her hands behind her back. Her shoulder sc.r.a.ped against the rough brick, and Dez purposefully pressed in deeper, hoping it would cut her flesh and draw out blood.

Meanwhile, the biggest vampire exploded. Her blood had traveled his bloodstream, and the poison-thank the G.o.ddess the Protection spell still worked-had literally eaten him from the inside out.

"Watch the chunks," one of her captors said. "It's got her blood in it. Stop squirming. We're going to burn a witch tonight-"

And then another of them was gone. Flying through the air. Landing on the wall with a dull clunk.

And Ivan stood in his place.

Chapter 16.

I van did not stand strong and tall and fierce, but bent over and clutching his bleeding gut. There was yet an open crease from his chest to belly.

Dez struggled against the one who held her hands. "Let me go!" She tried to spit over her shoulder, but the move was impossible.

"You helping a b.l.o.o.d.y witch?" the one vampire called to Ivan. "Looks like she's already torn you to pieces. Ha! This one's mine, buddy. Stand off."

The vampire Ivan had tossed as if a football, reappeared and attached himself to Ivan's back. He brandished a knife and drew it across Ivan's throat.

Using but the command of his magic, Ivan stretched back his arm and sent the vampire flying. This time, he landed thirty feet up on the wall, and the fall to the ground knocked him out cold.

Clutching his bleeding throat, Ivan stumbled for hold against the wall.

Dez, desperate to end this insane nightmare, kicked out, which landed her feet against Ivan's shoulder. She shoved hard, pushing her attacker into the wall. A few spoken words brought a downpour of rain. And hail. The tiny but bulleting ice bits proved enough of a surprise that her attacker let her go.

Scrambling away, Dez pressed her hand against the brick wall, and dragged it across the rough brick. A vampire grabbed her by the shoulder. She spun about and smacked him across the cheek with her b.l.o.o.d.y palm.

The rain washed away her blood.

The vampire, not sure if he'd been blooded by a witch, stood there for a moment, waiting.

Which gave Ivan enough time to barrel into his chest and land the two of them on the ground.

Dez stepped back and began to recite an ash spell-difficult to render, but the results would prove spectacular. If the vampire were beyond his mortal lifetime, he would be reduced to ash. If not, nothing would happen. Which was why she'd didn't bother to focus the spell. It would hit all three vampires, Ivan included.

Slapping her palms together over her head focusing her energies, Dez dove into herself and swept into the soft violet energy that came easily with the frenzy of the moment. It electrified her extremities and gushed toward her fingers. Spreading out her palms, she released the spell.

The vampire pummeling Ivan in the open chest dispersed to ash. But the vampire lying on the ground remained.

"Let's get out of here." She knelt over Ivan. He was badly beaten, bloodied to a mash. His throat yet bled, but the cut was smaller than the original ear-to-ear slash. "Hurry, before the other comes to."

"An ash spell?" he wondered, as she helped him to stand. The two scampered out onto the main street where hail plummeted the tarmac. "You could have killed me."

"You're too young. I knew you'd be fine. Ouch, the hail is getting bigger."

And though he was grievously hurt, Ivan coved her into his embrace and bowed his head over hers to protect her from the pummeling hail.

And Dez began to cry because, yes, she really did love this vampire who was also a witch, and who seemed to care for her beyond the wicked coercion that forced him to seduce.

And that was why she had to leave him again. She wasn't good for him. And if Himself had his way, she might be dead before sunrise.

Pushing away, Dez began to run. Bulleted in the face and shoulders by pebbles of hail, she endured, for to return to Ivan's gentle embrace was too much. She didn't deserve him.

No longer must she follow her heart.

Ivan dragged himself inside his apartment. Soaking wet, he collapsed on the marble landing. Exhausted and literally wrung through a diabolic wringer, his body fell backward, splaying out in the foyer. The shadow at the back of his neck didn't pulse, or if it did, he was beyond noticing pain.

"Dez." Her name on his tongue sweetened the ache. Momentarily.

She'd run from him. Again.

Was she angry because she'd given up the grimoire to save him? She shouldn't have done it. He would have gladly sacrificed his life to keep the book out of Himself's hands.

And to keep Dez safe.

Years of battling witches had given vampires expertise in avoiding spat blood or long fingernails drawn across flesh. Dez would have been no match to the threesome had he not shown.

And that thought raised new worries. She was still out there alone. Nothing would prevent her from encountering more vamps.

They were hungry for witch blood.

What if the Protection spell had been reversed when Dez had been attacked? She would have had no means to hold them off until he got to her side.

Ivan wanted to believe that eventually the vampires would back off when they realized the witches were no longer a threat. But there would be initial casualties.

Dez could have been one of those casualties.

Shoving his fingers through his hair, he then dropped his arms, and they fell slack. His body healed rapidly. He needed to remain still to allow it to happen.

"Maybe it is a stupid idea. The Protection spell should remain intact. It's the only fighting chance the witches have."

And a guarantee the war would never end.

No matter what decision was made regarding the spell, he had to get back the Grande Grimoire. If Himself found a way to reverse any of the spells, then calamity would ensue.

And what if he reversed his parents' love spell?

"No, he wouldn't give up his precious fixer."

Or so he hoped.

Dragging himself up to stand, Ivan clutched his aching chest. It had completely healed, but he still felt as if his organs had been rearranged and stuffed back without care. As they had been. His throat had healed from the knife slash. That had hurt like a b.i.t.c.h.

Flexing a fist, he pumped the muscles until his veins bulged. He could crush a few skulls if need be. But the only skull he wanted in hand was the hideous distorted cranium stretched over with black flesh. Himself.

"You rang?"

Ivan smirked. He knew if he thought about his master, he'd come. And how to stay away after all that had happened?

"You're looking rather peachy," Himself tossed out. "That inner-organ colonic I performed on you seems to have left you renewed and ready to face the day once more." Ivan turned and went down on one knee. Coercion was not required this time. He wanted to show his fealty, to put himself in the position of the slave. The only way he could gain any ground was to do it from the very pit and claw his way up through the detritus.

"Master."

"And still devoted. Such a dear."

Brimstone invaded Ivan's pores as Himself stalked the floor behind him. The sc.r.a.pe of hooves on marble p.r.i.c.kled across his scalp. "I appreciate the opening to s.n.a.t.c.h the grimoire, but such a plan was not as you'd intended, was it? You weren't going to grab the thing for me."

"I-".

"You've become enamored of the witch!" The heat of Himself's breath burned across Ivan's neck. The shadow dug in deep, p.r.i.c.kling about his spinal column with barbed needles.

"Was she worth it? Does sacrificing the entire witch nation to my whim satisfy you less than the f.u.c.k you had with her?"

"I wasn't thinking about the task. It wasn't evening at the time," Ivan offered.

"Liar."

Flailed across the chest, Ivan took the lash with a grunt yet not a flinch. The icy cut burned into his skin, but then healed as quickly. Himself did like to strip flesh and watch his victims squirm.

"You love her."

"It's none of your concern," Ivan hissed. "You have the book. The task is complete."

Himself flicked at the air with his talons. The clicking sounded like a death beetle scrambling across porcelain.

"What are you going to do with it?" Ivan dared to ask. He remained kneeling, but now he looked up to meet the malicious glow in Himself's red stare. "The grimoire."

"Nothing." Himself strode across the room. He paused by the wall and leaned a multijointed elbow against it in repose. "Not a d.a.m.ned thing. Ha ha!"

"I don't understand. You can unravel every spell in that book. Create chaos. Calamity. Destruction."