In the Company of Witches (43 page)

Feel it? Ancient. This demon is old.

Mikhael nodded. They resumed their course, but now there was no banter, two warriors moving toward a battle they knew was going to be tougher than expected. Derek kept an eye on their six while Mikhael scouted forward, a sweeping sphere of surveillance.

When the tunnel narrowed again, Mikhael brought him up short. Derek felt it at the same moment. A low-level warding just ahead, so close Mikhael could reach out an arm and touch it. A trip wire.

Mikhael directed them both to hug the wall, nodded to Derek. This was precision work, and of the two of them, Derek was better at that. No room for ego here. Somewhere ahead, the woman his wife loved was being harmed, held against her will. They were getting her back. It was obvious there was nothing else as far as Mikhael was concerned. Hell, Derek loved the prickly bitch himself.

Derek focused on the warding, felt the shape of it, the make. Dropping to one knee, he summoned the magic, rolled it into a ball in his hands, and then gently tossed it over the warding mark. It spread out along the surface, a bluish tint. “Go now,” he mouthed, and he and Mikhael stepped through it, like ghosts passing through a wall. A moment later, the magic dissipated, and the trip wire was intact again.

Mikhael made the short gesture that said their opponents were around the curve of the wall, about a hundred yards of ground to cross.

Derek closed his arm on Mikhael’s.
Chameleons
.

Mikhael’s eyes narrowed; then he felt what Derek had. His lips curved in that grim, dangerous way, and he nodded. They would have turned the corner and run right into a wall of chameleon demons, able to blend into the colors and energy of their surroundings until the last moment when their opponents—or victims—charged right into their grasp.

Paint ball?
Derek lifted a brow.

Mikhael nodded, that glint in his gaze.
I go first. Let their leader reach me.

They counted it down to five. Then they were in motion, stealth replaced by savage speed, an infantry charge.

Mikhael moved swift as a panther through the narrow passage, bursting out into a wider area. Stone pillars had the look of cypress trees, trapped in the sludge of a foul-smelling swamp, the air rife with sulfur and toxic fumes. Derek realized immediately they were dealing with twice as many as the Well dweller had warned them about. The lying sack of shit. With a snarl, he cast the paint ball spell, as they’d dubbed it years ago. The orange miasma spun out from his staff, swirled through the air and settled on everything living, everything in motion. Ugly muscle. That part had been true, even more than expected. The demons bearing down on them had been mutilated, their faces a horror of cuts and alterations. They were also slathered in protection like kids in sunscreen, the intent of that magic to keep Derek and Mikhael from impeding their main talent—brutal killing strength.

His staff became a lethal blade, and he threw out a slowing spell to protect Mikhael, no matter what the bastard had said. But the leader was already in full charge toward the Dark Guardian. Or maybe Mikhael had made a beeline for him, the biggest thug of the group, a giant ogre-type creature, with hands designed to crush elephant skulls.

Mikhael leaped right at him, his wings out once again to give him propulsion. Fists clenched, arms locked, he plowed right into the creature. Or rather, right through, because he plunged his hands into the creature’s chest up to the elbows, his feet braced on the demon’s massive torso.

The Dark Guardian’s face was a mask of murderous bloodlust that curdled even Derek’s bones. Mikhael snarled like an ancient demon from the deepest level of the Well. The ogre screamed, tried to dislodge him with powerful fists and rippling arms, but the shift of power in the chamber was a sudden tide of heat. Even those bearing down on Derek came up short, confused, turning toward the struggle between Mikhael and their leader.

Mikhael ripped the heart out of the creature, flipped back off him and landed on his feet in a crouch, holding the oozing, dripping thing in one hand. But he wasn’t done. The dark aura of his magic, now inside the demon’s protection, spread over the creature. The she-demon had allowed for things that would try to sap their strength, but she hadn’t anticipated this. Hell, Derek hadn’t, either. With fascinated horror, he watched the demon’s skull peel back like a grape and then, with an explosion of blood, sputum, and one final agonized shriek, it turned inside out like a purse, falling into a heap of still-quivering, jerking matter.

A moment of silence reigned in the large chamber, the only sound the rasping, snorting breath of creatures with long fangs and wide nostrils. Then two dozen denizens of the Underworld were scattering, scrambling back toward the dubious protection of those cypress pillars as Mikhael straightened and moved forward. He strode knee deep through the gore of the thing he’d just demolished, looking neither left nor right.

Apparently it was a big mistake to attack a Dark Guardian and let him live.
And
take his girl.

As Derek filed away that important tidbit of information, he fell in behind him. He knew what a Dark Guardian did, what their capabilities were. But it was the first time he’d seen it exercised in quite that way. Then he thought about what he might do if someone took Ruby, and he was right on Mikhael’s heels, moving almost shoulder to shoulder with him.

They went through another narrow passage, then wider areas, but the message had been passed. As they descended farther, the heat intensifying, nothing else bothered them. For now. She’d have something more powerful waiting for them. They couldn’t lead merely with the dangerous vengeance he felt pulsing off Mikhael right now. When a male was in a rage like this, he needed someone to cover his back. Not just physically.

So when they slowed, taking account of the terrain, both of them sensing their prey waiting in the nest of chambers just ahead, Derek touched Mikhael’s shoulder.

Mikhael shrugged him off.
I can feel her.
Raina. She’s close. They’re all close.

Derek risked the whisper. “Is she worth it?”

Mikhael, his mind in a blood haze from the latest kill and focused on the next, most important one, stumbled over the unlikely question, the strange familiarity of it. He turned his gaze to Derek.

The Light Guardian had a grim curl to the corner of his mouth, something expectant in his eyes. When Mikhael figured it out, he stared at him. Derek couldn’t be yanking his chain at a time like this. He’d lost his fucking mind.

“You’re quoting
Prince of Thieves
to me?” he said, disbelieving. “Kevin Costner?”

“Raina got us hooked on movies.” Derek kept the whisper, as well as that same, steady expression.

Mikhael rubbed a hand over his face, rolled his shoulders. Derek always kept his wits about him. He remembered that, along with a lot of other things about him. He got it, then. He understood. And though his blood was pumping hot, his darkness up close and personal on the surface of his skin, he gave Derek the answer he was seeking.

“You remember the stillness lesson? Each time we moved, even from merely breathing, we were electrocuted?”

Derek nodded, his blue eyes darkening.

“You said I was focusing too much on what would happen if I moved, and not so much on being still. You were electrocuted fourteen times communicating that through body signals. I did not forget that. Or the lesson. My rage won’t cloud me from my goal.”

His gaze locked with Derek’s. “And to answer your question, she’s not only worth dying for; she’s worth living a thousand lifetimes.”

“All right, then.” Derek bared his teeth in a grin, shifted the staff to his left hand. He charged it so that the ripples of power brushed Mikhael’s skin. “Just so I’m not risking my life for your latest piece of ass.”

“I’ll be sure my
last
piece of ass knows you made that comment. She liked my wings, sorcerer. Couldn’t take her eyes off of them.”

“Dream on, Dark Guardian.”

R
AINA COULDN’T THINK PAST HER HUNGER
. E
RICA
hadn’t used the iron again, but she’d used that spike spell, fire spells, things that didn’t mark her but hurt as if they were puncturing, scorching, breaking. After each session, she was hungrier. Under this kind of body trauma, the stronger succubus blood kicked in to help the human side endure, to survive. The phase demon knew it.

Erica’s latest trick was to break her fingers. It even looked like the fingers were bending and cracking, and though Raina knew it was an illusion spell, it didn’t matter. The pain was real. The only good thing was it made her human blood useful, driving her to a faint.

As terrible as all this had been, nothing had been as bad as feeling that spark that was Mikhael wink out in her consciousness. It had been brief, a stutter only, and then he’d been back, but for one short moment he’d actually felt…gone. She hadn’t expected her reaction to that, an overwhelming desire to scream out his name, throw herself against the bars and go after Erica, no matter the consequences.

Now, swimming in the blackness, she tried to stay there, to stay away from all the fear and pain, fighting the pull back to consciousness. But it was useless.

She’d been moved. She was in another cage, with Isaac, and it was only big enough for there to be a couple feet between them. He smelled…delicious. She was stronger, far stronger than Isaac. He was her kind, but he had the sexual energy she craved.

“There you are,” Erica crooned. “He’s a tasty morsel, isn’t he? All he needs is ketchup.”

Isaac stared at her with resigned eyes. He knew. He knew this was it.
No.
This bitch wasn’t going to dictate to her. Raina groped at the steel collar around her throat. When she’d first woken and discovered it on her, she’d struggled with it, panicked. It had burned her hands, burned her throat if she fought against it too hard. Now she locked her hands on it, shoved it hard against her windpipe.

“What are you doing? Stop!”

She would burn through her neck, kill herself before Erica made her commit such an unforgivable crime. Always on her own terms. Always.

“No, no, no!” Erica couldn’t phase in the cage with them. To stop Raina, she had to become corporeal, within reach, and then Raina would tear her skinny ass up.

Come on, make my day. Fuck, this hurts. Oh, God, it hurts. Mikhael…

She might have wailed his name even as she gritted her teeth and kept the steel in place. Until strong hands were on hers, pulling her fingers off it. Not Erica’s hands. Isaac’s.

“No.”
He was crying.
“Stop.”

She fell back, panting, and as she did, he brought his wrist to his mouth, tore open the vein.

Sexual energy was what drew a succubus, but sexual energy coursed through the blood, so a bloodletting increased its potency tenfold, turning a ravenous creature into an absolutely out-of-control one. She was on him in a heartbeat. No time for a howl of protest from her conscience, no time for anything but sating that hunger.

He was already naked, so closing her hand over his sex, pouring her energy into him to arouse him, to bring him to a climax, was as easy as breathing. She wasn’t taking no for an answer, in the full glory of her power as a succubus, but beyond that, he was helping her, holding on to her waist, his face buried into her midriff as he shuddered and bucked. She brought his wrist to her mouth, drank deep of the blood as she did the same with his sexual energy. His cock spurted, his fangs scraping her in reflex as she fed on that power that could sap a mortal female, take her life. He had done it, over and over again. Now she fed herself on that, grew glutted and strong…and horrified.

She shoved away, backed into the corner of the small cell, breathing hard. But Isaac followed, dragging himself to her. His fingers curled around her thigh, holding on. Raina looked down into his face as he rolled his head to look at her, so sad and tired.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I owe you.”

“No.” She shook her head, tried to figure out how to fix it. “Feed from me the same way. Take some of it back.”

“Don’t think it works that way. She was…right. You can do it. You can drain our kind, as well as humans. Makes you more powerful.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his gaze suddenly fierce. “More powerful than her, in time. You’ll take her then.”

She gathered him to her, held his head in her lap. He nuzzled her like a cub, then let out a little sigh. He died, just like that. It was always quick, that kind of death. No time for long speeches or tears. But she didn’t have tears to shed over him.

She’d killed him. She’d done what Erica wanted.

All of it came back, every act of cruelty done to her, to her kind. She knew how Isaac felt, but of course she’d always known how he felt. In this moment, however, the bitter resentment stirred, took over, became a hatred that could make her despise everyone who wasn’t succubus or incubus, even Derek, Ruby, Ramona…She was tired of being used, tired of monsters like Erica trying to take advantage of abilities that weren’t theirs. She was…enraged.

Erica wanted her off balance, wanted the horror of what she’d done to overcome her. The truth didn’t have to be faked, did it?

She hunched her shoulders over the boy. She couldn’t cry, but she could sob, keen, hold and rock him. Erica glided forward, tsking.

“He was nothing. No more than a bottom dweller. It’s your conscience bothering you, not a true caring for him. You’ll soon lose that. Then we’ll really have some fun together.”

“You’re a monster,” Raina hissed, her voice shaking. She had her hand clasped on one of the bars for support, the other on Isaac. Erica wouldn’t be able to help herself. She had to touch, and if she had to touch, she had to be real. Raina, flexing her fingers on the bars, imagined it as a Bruce Lee come-hither even as she shook, as if needing the support from something, anything. “I’ll never serve you. I’ll die before I do that again.”

“I might not find one as noble as Isaac, true. But if I find less scrupulous sex demons, you’ll favor your own life over theirs. Particularly if I suggest to them they might try feeding on you. You’ll fight for your own life. I know it. You’ve always been a fighter. Poor baby.”