Love Charms (99 page)

So he backed off, disarmed her when she
thought she had him pegged. Little did she know, the very things she accused him
of were what he would have done in normal circumstances. However, there was
nothing normal about his cougar.

Speaking of which, what the fuck happened
before he arrived? He’d not just busted down the door because she didn’t
answer. He could have sworn as he travelled the corridors leading to her suite
that he heard screaming. Female screaming.
Ysabel.
He’d run the rest of
the way and when she wouldn’t answer, he busted in, ready to commit murder,
only he found her looking fetching in her underwear, though pale, with lines of
pain bracketing her mouth and eyes.

Something or someone had hurt her. And
yet, she was alone, the smells in her place belonging only to her and the weird
burning scent which faded as he conversed with her.

She hid something, of that he’d wager,
but what?

He’d find out sooner or later. And if it
hurt her, he’d kick its ass.

First things first, though –
investigating the prison where the souls she’d paid to have tortured resided.

Some would think it was unfair for one
person to be able to sell their soul to the Devil in return for eternal
punishment of others. And to be clear, it wasn’t allowed in all requests. In
order for the exchange to work, the soul asking for vengeance needed just
cause. Remy didn’t have access to Ysabel’s file, buried in his Lord’s private
vault, but if she’d managed to get numerous souls condemned to the worst Hell
had to offer, then they must have fucked up royally.

Knowing they must have hurt her, and bad,
pissed him right off. Never mind he didn’t know her when it happened. Or that
she pretended to dislike him now. He now felt like he had a vested interest in
making sure those who’d done her harm got punished, starting with the being who
aided five of them in escaping.

Why do that? And more importantly, who?
Who possessed that kind of clout and more importantly, wanted to screw with his
witch?

Remy intended to find out. And then he’d
fuck them up.

Chapter
Six

Hell bore many faces, the most common
that of a sprawling metropolis with a scenic background of smoking mountains
and raining ash. But Hell was more than its tenement housing, dilapidated
castles and winding, dusty roads. The pit was growing constantly. Literally. It
kept expanding to greater and greater size despite the wild jungles surrounding
the ever widening nine circles. No matter how many cartographers tried to map
the ever changing landscape, unexplored territory kept cropping up, dangerous
places that few returned from.

But, if one ignored the Pit’s magical
ability to accommodate all the souls, demons and other beings that kept
arriving and multiplying, then you could see just how normal it actually was.

In many ways, Hell resembled the mortal
plane, which would have surely disappointed secular scholars. Housing and
rambling streets littered the nine circles. Buildings of all shapes and sizes,
including stores and theaters, cropped up wherever a spot could accommodate it.
Hell had it all, built by the damned looking to make the Pit feel like home. A
home for those that sinned only a little at any rate.

There was one aspect of the eternally hot
plane that would have delighted those who preached of fire and brimstone; the
prisons.

Hell knew how to punish. Made an art of
it and reveled in it. The screams of agony and pleas for mercy echoed long
before the twining trail leading to the establishment, known simply as Hell’s
Prison, ended. Fear not though – while most souls were destined to live
in the Pit, only the really spectacular ones earned punishment and
imprisonment.

Rapists, serial murderers, corporate
leaders, lawyers – all suffered the eternal agonies for the misdeeds
they’d performed in life. Lucifer, with so many souls to shepherd, saved his
best for the worst.

The rusted, metal gates flanked by guard
towers loomed into view and the agonized shrieks increased in pitch. Remy
glanced at his witch to see her reaction, but she didn’t cringe or shy away.
She marched alongside him, cool and imperious, unafraid and unashamed of what
went on beyond the prison doors. Obviously, she’d visited this vile place
before, but he wondered for what purpose.

The warden, a corpulent demon covered in
black pustules met with them, his yellow, slitted eyes lingering overly long on
Ysabel’s curvy frame. Remy allowed the visual admiration, but if he dared
touch… A possessive streak for the witch surprised him. Jealousy was not
something he’d encountered often, and never for a female. Job promotion or cool
digs, yes, but a woman?

It was probably because she refused him.
He saw her as a challenge and until he got into her pants, he didn’t want
anyone else getting a taste of his prize. Oh yeah, that was a big fat lie. His
boss was probably so proud.

“Remy, Lucifer’s own guard. What brings
you to our fine establishment?” said the warden, recognizing him.

Surprised, Remy looked harder at the
demon, then smiled. “Crax, you old bugger. So this is where you ended up?” He
almost didn’t recognize Crax, the emaciated youth he once knew now enormous in
size.

“After the academy,” where all demons,
full, half or quarter went when still in their teens, “my Lord assigned me to
the prison, but it’s only recently I earned my promotion.”

“Congrats on running the place. Nice
gig,” Remy congratulated. Personally, more than a few hours in this place and
he’d probably go mad and end up drooling in a corner. It took a tough stomach
and mind to work in a place like this.

His old school chum puffed up his chest.
“Thank you. But since you didn’t know I was here, something else obviously
brought you.”

“I’m here on behalf of our Lord. I am
investigating the escape of five of your prisoners.” And there went Crax’s
jovial smile, which, for the uninitiated was more frightening than the scowl he
currently sported.

“Those bloody fuckers. We got one of them
back last night. He’s getting reacquainted with the rack as we speak.”

“Did you question him on how he escaped?”
Ysabel asked before Remy could.

Crax’s yellow gaze took her in before he
answered. “I asked. He won’t answer. Some kind of spell is stopping him. I’ve
called in the Lord’s witch to take a look since my resident magikers can tell
me nothing.”

“Might we have a turn? My lady friend and
I have an interest in the case and have our Lord’s permission to investigate.”

“Be my guest.”

Crax led them through a warren of
hallways, some of the archways branching off, showing scenes of fire and
torture, others whipping, some skinning, and one strange one involving
tickling.

The warden saw Remy ogling and chuckled.
“That there psycho thinks that laughter is a sin. Killed the neighbor’s kids
because they kept giggling in their yards. So, we spend all day making him
laugh. You should hear the chap sobbing in his cell at night as he beats his
head on the wall.”

Yeah, like he said, Lucifer excelled at
what he did.

Entering a part of the building that
seemed awfully quiet compared to the rest of their journey, Remy frowned. “Do
you have silence dampening spells on this section?”

Crax shook his head. “I told you that
Pedro fellow wasn’t talking. And I mean at all. Not a scream or peep no matter
what we do. It’s freaking the boys out.”

It freaked him out, never mind the
others, and flicking a quick glance at Ysabel, he saw the troubled line on her
forehead.

They entered a chamber, well lit with
fluorescent lights which made the scene shine in all its gory details. Suffice
it to say, it was nasty, even by his standards, and bloody, hence the drains in
the floor.

Ysabel stepped daintily over the red
rivulets inching their way down into Hell’s plumbing until she stood in front
of a large rack. Splayed, spread eagle and raw, like meat skinned for a spit,
was their friend from the night before, Pedro, and he didn’t look like a happy
resident of the Pit which suited Remy just fine. Scumbags deserved punishment.

Despite the lack of noise, only a blind
idiot wouldn’t notice that Pedro suffered. His eyes bulged. His mouth hung open
in a silent scream, but nothing, not even the hiss of air could be heard. It
wasn’t right. Even mutes made noise.

Remy watched as his witch eyed the man up
and down, then sketched some symbols in the air. He caught a hint of magic, the
ozone scent and electrifying tingle giving her attempts away. The scene didn’t
change and it remained quiet enough to keep even a baby demon sleeping.

After a few moments, she turned,
appearing pensive. “Whatever has him bound is strong. And subtle. I can’t even
see the threads to the spell preventing him from speaking.”

“Which means he definitely had some kind
of outside aid in escaping.”

“Impossible,” sputtered Crax. “We monitor
visitors closely. Frisk them more thoroughly than their lovers.”

“You can’t see magic though,” she advised
dryly.

Crax scowled at her observation.

“We’ll need copies of the visitor logs,”
Remy ordered. “And I want to see their cells. Maybe their mysterious benefactor
left a clue.”

“Of course. Follow me.”

Ysabel strode after Crax, and Remy
dropped back, more to admire her ass than anything else. Round, with enough
cushion for the pushing, he couldn’t wait to –

“It looks even better bent over,” she
tossed over her shoulder. “Not that you’ll ever see that. I save that for my
special friends.” She laughed, a husky sound that went straight to his cock and
stroked him. Then the minx added a little extra wiggle to her walk. Like he
said before, his Lord knew how to torture, even his favored soldiers.

They visited five solitary cells –
stone walls, no window, seamless rock for the floor, thick metal bars for a
door – bare of everything, even a blanket.

“There’s nothing here,” Remy growled as
he paced the last one. Not even a misplaced scent.

“No magic,” she mused running her fingers
over the stone blocks. “No carved messages. Nothing. How did they escape
again?”

Crax shrugged. “We’ve yet to figure that
one out. One moment, they was all in their cells crying for the abyss, the next
time we checked, they was gone. The doors still locked, not a single alarm
tripped.”

“What about the video footage?”

A glob of spittle hit the floor and
sizzled before Crax answered. “Fucking wiped. The whole lot of them. And before
you ask, no, we have no idea how the fuck it happened. Bloody imps most likely,
though. The pesky buggers get into everything.”

“So let me get this straight,” Ysabel
asked. “You lost five prisoners, have no idea how or when, have no video
footage due to some malfunction, and you can’t even make one chained up soul
talk?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds
bad.”

Ysabel stepped up to the warden and
although she remained shorter than him by almost a foot, she seemed to grow
somehow in presence. “What’s bad is if you let any more prisoners escape, the
Devil won’t have to fire you because I’ll come down here myself, carve your
body parts off one at a time and feed them to the hounds. Incompetence is
unacceptable and I will not tolerate it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Remy laughed as Crax reeled back from
her, a dazed look on his face. He was still chuckling as they exited the rusted
gates.

“What is so damned funny?” she asked
through gritted teeth.

“You. I mean, you couldn’t even hold your
own against Pedro last night and yet you’re threatening the warden of Hell’s
Prison. That takes balls.”

He received no warning, just a flick of
her hand and he went flying, his impromptu airborne status halted by a crag of
rock. And not a smooth one. Ouch.

Ysabel stalked toward him, hips
undulating, power weaving around her frame lifting her curls in a wild dance.
Stuck like a bug, her magic binding him in place, he enjoyed the view of his
witch having a tantrum. Talk about hot.

“First off, demon, let’s get one thing
straight. I. Am. Not. Weak. What you saw last night was another fucking
subclause of Lucifer’s that makes me of the same strength physically and
magically as when I died, but only when on the mortal plane in the presence of
the souls I damned. Any other time, I am not to be messed with.”

“If you’re so bad ass, how come I never
heard of you?”

“I prefer to stay out of the spotlight,
unlike some sorceress’s I know,” she said with a smile as she came to stop in
front of him. “But I do have a nickname.”

“Hot on a stick?”

“No.”

“Spanks with magic?”

“Most definitely not.”

“I know, you must be the famous BJ
Swallows.”

“I am going to hurt you.”

“I was right?”

“No. And your made up names are just
pissing me off.”

“Made up? I’ll have you know those
monikers are just a few of the more famous witch ones I know. Of course, I
don’t know if their magical abilities extend beyond the pole they dance on, but
still, they’re very well known in my circles.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Are you going to tell what your name is
then? ‘Cause I’m gonna wager it isn’t Magical Pie.”

He really needed to learn how to keep
certain thoughts to himself, an easy thing to promise with the iron grip she
had on his balls. Not exactly how he pictured their first time touching.

She twisted. He winced. “Let this be a
reminder not to fuck with me. And just so you know, while my nickname is the
Blood Witch, my true title is Satan’s Assistant.”

She was the one who had all the damned
souls trembling? Hot damn. “I
have
heard of you.”

“Good, then you know what I can do. And
might I add it hurts.” She leaned up on tiptoe as she said it, her lips so
close to his.

But Ysabel wasn’t the only one with
surprises. And truly, she’d pushed the boundaries of temptation too far. He
snapped her magic binding and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her flush
against his chest. “Did I mention, apart from ability with fire, I can unravel
several forms of magic?” Then he kissed her, and by all the coals in the
furnace of Hell, he’d never burned hotter.

* * *

How did I go from putting him in his
place to having his tongue in my mouth?

An interesting question for sure, but not
as intriguing as the fire he ignited. While Ysabel on a few occasions –
usually drunk –let other men kiss her –before she decked them with
magic –nothing compared to Remy’s embrace. Not even Francisco’s kiss.

How he could suck her lower lip and make
her feel it between her legs was a mystery – one she enjoyed. How he
could curl his tongue around hers and wring a pleasurable shudder from her body
made no sense. His hands cupped her bottom, squeezing her cheeks, pressing her
against his firm body. A body excited to feel hers, judging by the hard bulge
nudging her belly.