devil 05 - the devil you want (21 page)

She gave me the side eye. “I have many skills. Perhaps I’ll share them all with you. Later.”

I stood there and sneezed as the ice queen stepped through the dust, around the corpses, and headed toward the entrance to Nille’s evil dominion. “Come on. They’ll know we’re here now.”

I stood there with my mouth hanging open in complete awe. Slayer had told me she was scary. But this…I hadn’t even seen her power working.

As she disappeared into the darkness of the cave I shook it off and ran after her, determined to find out how she’d broken the necks of not one but two ’goyles from ten feet away without even breaking a sweat.

We found Nille in his office, sitting behind his big, pretty desk, evidently doing something that didn’t require paper or writing materials, or a televisual…or anything that I could see.

Apparently he ran his court through telepathic messages and sign language.

He looked up as we walked in, his pretty face a study in surprise.

I couldn’t help feeling he looked a little too surprised, given that Crisanne had just dispatched his guard ’goyles without any concern for the screeching that had ensued.

He sat tall and elegant in his chair, dressed in perfectly pleated slacks and a button-up white shirt. He looked like a business man. His thick mane of hair was cut short, the color lighter than I remembered it.

“Did you frost your hair?”

Nille’s light-blue gaze swept over me as if I wasn’t important enough to address and landed on Crisanne.

“Lovely Crisanne. What is the meaning of this?”

She stepped forward. “We’ve come to get the Puka King and his consort.”

Nille stared at her for a beat and then laughed. “You overstep yourself, Tweener. I don’t care how sweet your flesh, I won’t allow insubordination from anyone.”

From the sexy Slayer to a would-be devil king. Mx. Crisanne had certainly stepped down in the world.

“This isn’t insubordination, Nille. I’m seizing your court for my own.”

My eyes widened in surprise. Bent frunkin’ gargoyle toes. What was the bitch up to now?

Nille’s pretty blues narrowed in anger and he lifted a hand toward Crisanne, power throbbing in his fingertips. Before he could send that power into her, Crisanne’s hand shot out and her fingers squeezed into a fist.

Nille started to choke and his power slipped away. He stood up and stumbled away from his desk, obviously hoping to get to his guards.

I just stood there, thinking she didn’t need me to kill the prince. Which made me wonder why I was even there.

Nille fell to the ground, clutching his throat and twitching.

I watched in shock as he died. It wasn’t possible was it? Prince Nille was the most powerful being I’d ever gone up against. And Crisanne had killed him with the simple clutching of a fist.

What the Hades was going on?

Crisanne walked over and stood above him as he died, her fist tightening until her knuckles were white.

Something wasn’t right.

I walked over and looked down. The creature on the floor was bug eyed and tinged with blue, his long fingers scraping helplessly at his throat, leaving behind raw flesh from the hopeless effort.

As I stared at him something flickered and for a moment I saw a wide, craggy red face. Then the thing that looked like Nille gasped its last breath and fell silent. I pulled my power forward as the victim began to change form, becoming a lower-level devil with red, scaly skin and horns.

Crisanne reached out and clamped a hand on my wrist. My power fizzled out like flames under a fire extinguisher. I jerked out of her grasp and was immediately surrounded by royal guards. Their massive red-scaled hands grasped my arms and dragged me up against wide chests covered in armor.

Crisanne smiled at me and my bowels turned to liquid. “Welcome to my web, Astra Q. Phelps. At last I can put the legend of Phelps the Powerful Tweener behind me and begin creating my own legendary tales.”

I fought to move my arms so I could get to my daemon marks and call Dialle and Slayer.

Crisanne simply laughed. “Are you looking for these?” She touched the daemon hickey on my throat with a finger and power speared through me, sending agony knifing through my body. Her power ripped at my organs and bubbled my skin.

My brain expanded to the point where I thought it would explode. Anguish pounded against my head like a series of concussion rounds. My body writhed violently, held upright only by the massive red paws of the guards, and blood ran in streams from my ears, eyes and nose. My eardrums shattered under the immense power. My joints ripped.

I screamed so loud and so long that my voice gave out, finally emitting only strangled shrieks. After what felt like an eternity, the guards released my arms and I slammed to the floor. I lay there more dead than alive, bleeding from nearly every orifice in my battered body.

Worse than the pain was the emptiness. My magic had been ripped away from me. Torn from the hidey hole where I kept it. Plucked from the mark Dialle had given me as proof of our mating.

I tried to move. Tried to get my hands beneath me so I could sit upright. I was determined not to lie on the floor at her feet. Prostrate before her. But my muscles were spongy and weak. I couldn’t even open my eyes to glare.

Her laughter should have given me the strength to fight back. But all it did was make me want to cry with frustration.

Unfortunately for me, I soon had something much worse to cry about.

She reached down and grabbed my hand. “Just one more mark to rid you of, greedy, greedy Astra. You probably won’t survive this one. Most have only one binding mark to dispatch. Unfortunately for you there are two men who care about you enough to want to protect you.”

When she touched the mark Slayer had given me, I was beyond screaming, though I’m pretty sure she put even more into destroying that mark than she had the first. If I’d have been able to think through the all-encompassing agony, I’d have realized she had some ego wrapped up in that one.

Slayer had rejected her. But he’d marked me for protection.

My skin was splitting apart, my blood pouring freely onto the garish red carpet from the horrible wounds. And numbness claimed my body from the waist down. Probably due to the cracking and wrenching of my spine as her power ripped through it.

Near the end, despite the battering she’d given me, my bloodied, broken fingers reached for her across that carpet, tearing the blood-coated fibers in an effort to get to her.

My body was broken and mashed like a bidgie bug under a giant’s foot. But my traitorous mind wouldn’t shut down…wouldn’t give me relief.

And as my sanity slipped away under the searing pain, my devil reared up in impotent rage, spurring a blind and focused need to kill. To take revenge.

Unfortunately, my body wasn’t up to the task.

Crisanne eventually grew bored trying to kill me and stepped back, barking out orders for the guards to take me away.

Agony seared as they wrenched me, none too gently, from the floor and my mouth came open, my throat working in a silent scream. But as they dragged me toward my next Hell, my vision finally started to darken to charcoal gray around the edges. The light shrank to a pinprick at the center of my vision. And the world finally disappeared behind a wall of blessed oblivion.

* * * * *

I woke up in a locked room that was situated deep in the bowels of the earth. I knew that because I’d been in the room once before, when I’d been destined for a power-sapping ceremony that was meant to give Prince Nille all the power his tiny black heart could desire. The room was warded against magic, which would have been a problem if I still had any. As it was, the ward was a bit redundant. I could feel the total lack of power in my body like a huge black pit under my skin. Every cell of my essence had been emptied of it. My head felt muzzy and my muscles quivered, useless and weak without the sustenance of my power.

The silence pounded against my bleeding ears.

I tried to sit up but couldn’t. Nothing worked. My muscles, my bones, my coordination were all broken. The internal beating Crisanne had given me had done me completely in. I was like a rag doll without fabric stiffener.

After two attempts I gave up, allowing myself to lie on the torn and stained silk covering the bed and just embrace the pain that pounded against me like laser-rock music set on reverb.

There was nothing left to do but take stock of my surroundings. The room had only one door and no windows. The walls were rock, covered in faded burgundy damask draperies. The huge four-poster bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. It dominated the center of the space and was covered in once-beautiful silk that was now coated in dust and other more disgusting things. The cushions that had once been strewn around on the floor were gone, apparently moved to other rooms over the months since I’d last been there. The carpet had been a rich golden color when I last saw it. Now it was matted and clogged with mud and old blood.

The white silk that had been draped over the bed’s canopy when I’d been there before now hung in tatters around the iron frame. The room had been an elegant sexual playground before. Its current state of decay perfectly represented the fall of Nille’s evil hopes and ambitions.

I lay there for what felt like hours, trying to summon enough magic to at least call for help. But it was hopeless. I was empty. I tried not to think about what the loss of my magic would mean for the future. It didn’t matter anyway. I could feel my body dying a little more with each passing moment. Without magic to heal myself, I was just another badly damaged husk of cells that was too far gone to heal.

With a jolt of understanding that in my arrogance as a creature with mad powers I had never thought I’d experience, I realized I was well and truly helpless. I was no longer special in any way. I had nothing more than a weakened collection of bones and muscles with which to save myself.

I’d been reduced to nothing…a mere human.

Everything I’d built my life on was gone. My job, my love life, my family and friends, all counted on my magic. I’d taken pride in my ability to keep people safe. I’d made a living from that ability. I’d been chosen by Dialle, the devil I wanted more than life itself, because of my powers.

That was all gone.

Not to mention the fact that Dialle’s Royal Court would suffer for my loss…until he replaced me with someone at least as powerful.

Realization hit me between the eyes.

Crisanne!

She’d never been after Nille. Nille had probably never even been involved.

It was Dialle. She wanted Dialle. Why would she work so hard at maneuvering Nille into a position of power when she could grab Dialle with a single swipe, just by getting rid of me?

And I had nothing left with which to fight her.

With that thought I lost the tiny bit of hope I’d been savoring at the very bottom of my weakened, lonely heart.

Dialle would take her. Because he’d have to.

And I would be alone. Unloved. And unemployed. If I even lived to experience those horrible outcomes.

I was well and truly frunked.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to die. With little hope and nothing to look forward to, it didn’t take long for my weakened body to succumb to lethargy and fall into restless sleep.

* * * * *

The sound of wings pounding the air disturbed my pain-drenched sleep. A soft breeze sent my hair flying around my face and the sweet sound of an angelic choir surrounded me. I tossed and turned, sensing turmoil beyond the thin veil of my rest. Gentle hands touched my forehead and strong arms wrapped me in warmth. I was aware of a shift in my surroundings.

I came partially awake, though I was drenched in fever. Voices spun through my mind. They were far away and faint, but came to me with varying degrees of intensity.

Deep, worried voices, high-pitched frantic voices, and a single calm, soothing tone that overrode all the others.

Along with the voices came the hands. Unlike the devil guards these hands were gentle, careful with my battered form. But despite their gentleness, pain blossomed through me like an ancient nuclear bomb, ripping at my insides and pulling against the bloody fissures in my broken limbs.

I cried out, screaming to be left alone. But the hands still pulled at me, twisted me and rolled me to and fro.

There was no rest from the pain. It formed the core of my awareness, serving as a focal point for my helpless rage.

Soon I flailed out at them, but the hands pinned my feeble attempts down and still moved over me. I fought to close them out and ignore the voices, which had gained a pleading tone.

I was gone. Beyond help and past hope. I just wanted to die.

Finally the shadows of unconsciousness folded fully over me again and the hands and voices went away.

I sighed in relief.

That was when the dreams started. Nightmares really.

The first one had my aunt Myra and my sister Darma in it, the pairing alone a nightmare that most couldn’t endure. They floated in the air a few feet away and glared at me, disapproval painting the air between us in vibrant hues.

Myra cocked her head.
You look like hell. You might want to put some lipstick on or brush your hair before Dialle gets here.

I panicked.
No! I don’t want to see him!

Too bad. He wants to see you.

I shook my head.
Just let me die. I’m worthless now.

Darma put her hands on her hips and made a disgusted noise with her lips.
Astra, stop being such a baby and fight.

I’m not being a baby. I have no magic. I can’t heal myself.

I can heal you. If you’ll let me.
Darma’s words hardly matched her tone, which would have been more suitable if she’d said, I’m going to beat the bat-snot out of you.

I tried ignoring them, hoping they’d go away.

Astra, this can be fixed.

I looked at my aunt and saw the sadness in her eyes that belied her words.
Just go away, Auntie, and leave me alone.