Of Witches and Warlocks: The Demon Kiss (30 page)

I was afraid all right, just not so much for
myself. I couldn’t let him hurt Vance.

“I can see that life with you is going to be
very interesting over the next little while.” He looked amused.

“Not if I can help it,” I mumbled under my
breath, as he laughed at me again, and I found myself wishing I
could punch my fist clear down his throat to stop the sound of
it.

“Portia, my dear,” he began, and I hated the
very sound of my name dripping from his voice. “Every second I
spend with you helps me to see why Vance is so attracted to you.
You’re absolutely precious!” He gave me a little wink for
emphasis.

I made up my mind right then and there to
kill him as soon as I had the chance. I wanted to show him exactly
how precious I could be.

A voice crackled over the cabin speaker.

“Sir, we’ll be beginning our descent
shortly,” an unseen male voice said, and I assumed it was the
pilot’s.

“It’s time to buckle up!” Damien said with a
smile as he reached down to lift his belt, strapping himself into
the seat easily. “Would you like me to help you with yours?” he
taunted, leaning forward slightly as he stretched out his hands
toward me in a helpful manner.

“I’m fine thanks,” I said, sardonically,
considering the fact that his powers were keeping me from being
able to even move an inch, plus I would rather court death than let
him touch me.

“Suit yourself,” he replied with a shrug of
indifference, and he eased back into his chair, still continuing
with his unsettling stare.

I watched out the window, and I could see we
appeared to be approaching a large metropolitan area.

The plane slowly began to get lower in the
air as we traveled along, and I could finally make out the large
runways at the airport we were approaching, which looked to be one
of major size, perhaps an international one.

The closer we got, the better I was able to
make out shapes of buildings in the surrounding area of the
airport. I concentrated on them hard, trying to make out anything
which might give me some sort of clue as to where I was.

Suddenly some of the distinctly shaped
structures caught my attention, and I realized right away that I
recognized them. They were lines of casinos, running side by side
down a long strip of road, as well as more than a few others that
dotted the landscape spreading out around them.

I knew exactly where I was.

“Welcome to Las Vegas!” Damien said, with a
smile.

We were in Nevada.

The small aircraft touched down easily, not
even making a bump, as the wheels came in contact with the solid
ground beneath us. We taxied down the runway until we turned off on
another access road and moved toward a large row of hangars, which
were off on the far side of the massive space.

We passed by several of the large buildings,
all of them closed, before I finally saw one that was standing open
in the middle of the long row. The plane glided into it easily, and
the large hangar doors were closed behind us.

I sat quietly, with Damien, while the engine
was shut down. The pilot made an appearance to visit with Damien
and find out if the flight had been to his satisfaction, while the
attendant brought him a briefcase.

When they were finished speaking with Damien,
the two of them went over to the door, opened it and lowered the
stairs down to the hangar floor.

At this point, a couple of men in dark suits
boarded the plane.

“It’s time to go,” Damien said as he looked
over at me, and suddenly I was released from my magical
holdings.

I had been waiting for the possibility of
this moment, and the instant I felt myself freed I flung my arm out
him, sending several ice shards in a row from my hand, speeding out
toward him.

He quickly waved his hand to the side, and
the weapons were redirected away from him, landing in the chest of
one of the men who had just boarded.

The man looked down with a grunt in surprise
at the grouping of shards protruding from his chest and fell over
dead.

Damien shook his head at me, as if completely
dismayed by my behavior.

“Portia, Portia,” he said in that patronizing
voice of his, “look what you’ve done! You’ve killed poor Michael.
What did he ever do to you?” He made a clicking sound with his
tongue while shaking his finger at me.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” I replied,
standing from the chair that had been my previous prison, to
confront him. “You did.”

“Well, if that’s the way you need to see it
so you can feel better about yourself …,” he said trailing off in
mock horror, as he got to his feet, standing across from me.

It was the first time I had noticed that he
was actually a little taller than Vance was, by at least a couple
of inches, which just served to make him look all the more
imposing.

“Take her,” Damien said, ordering the one man
still standing there next to his dead accomplice.

“Don’t touch me!” I shouted at him as he
approached, raising my hand threateningly at him, and he paused
slightly to look over at Damien with a questioning glance.

“If you’d just come easily and quit provoking
everyone, he wouldn’t have to touch you.” Damien said in
exasperation, as if this were the most apparent thing in the world
for anyone to understand. “You have to know I’m completely prepared
for you. There’s no way I would’ve allowed you from your restraints
otherwise. Now be a good girl and get a move on!” He nodded his
head curtly in the direction of the door.

I looked at him for a minute as I weighed the
situation, wishing I could wipe his smug, self-assured look off his
face, before giving a sigh of defeat and brushing passed him to
exit the plane.

I noticed the waiting black limousine
immediately when I stepped through the doorway. Its windows were
tinted so darkly that there was no hope of anyone seeing me inside,
even if I were to lean up against the glass and pound on it. I
paused, as I looked at the sleek car, knowing now I was just being
transferred, moving from one prison to another.

The driver was standing, smartly uniformed
and ramrod straight, at the door, holding it open, waiting for us
to enter the vehicle.

“Move along,” Damien said from behind me,
prodding me forward with the sound of his voice at my back, and I
continued to make my way down the steps toward the waiting
vehicle.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs just to
be annoying, pretending I didn’t know where to go, as I looked
around with a perplexed gaze.

“Get in the car, Portia,” Damien said
brusquely, not appreciating or even remotely falling for my little
act.

I gave a frustrated sigh and walked over to
the vehicle to climb into it. Under any other circumstance, I
probably would have enjoyed going for a ride in a stretch
limousine. Today, however, was not one of those days.

Damien followed me in, along with the other
suited man, while the driver closed the door and hurried back
around to the front of the vehicle.

I scooted to the opposite seat that ran down
the side of the limousine, so I wasn’t sitting next to either of
them, earning myself an irritated glance from Damien in the
process. I gave him a little half sneer in return, just to goad him
a little bit more, knowing it wasn’t the wisest course of action
but unable to keep myself from doing so.

“Is everything ready?” Damien asked, turning
to the man sitting next to him, once the car was in motion.

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, nodding his head
once. “Things are just as you requested.”

“Good,” Damien said, and his gaze returned
back to me then, the self-satisfactory look moving back into
place.

“So where, pray tell, are we off to now?” I
asked, trying not to sound too curious but feeling it was important
to try and gain as much information as I could about where he might
be taking me.

“Why, to my place, of course,” he responded,
and the limo moved out of the hangar, driving into the bright
desert sunshine outside.

“Just how many ‘places’ do you have exactly?”
I asked, thinking back to the big spacious house he had recently
occupied in Mexico.

“Several,” he replied, casually. “I like to
have the comforts of home when I travel.”

This comment confirmed what I already had
decided. He must have huge monetary resources. The fact that
Vance’s trust fund had been so large when his mom had run with him
had suggested that Damien had a lot of money. He could probably buy
anyone or anything he wanted.

That certainly wasn’t going to help any of
the odds against Vance and me at all. Lots of people could be
persuaded to turn a blind eye toward things for the right amount of
cash. Money could definitely talk.

I closed my eyes, trying to relax, as I
searched my mind for any mental connection to Vance. I didn’t
really think I would find one, but I needed to look for him as I
was feeling completely alone and vulnerable at the moment. There
was nothing, of course, just as I had expected.

The car moved out onto the surface streets,
and I noticed we were beginning to make our way over toward the
strip of hotels and casinos Las Vegas was so famous for.

At this point the suited man moved over to
sit next to me. I leaned away from him cautiously as he popped open
the briefcase I had seen Damien carry off the plane with him.

“I’m sorry, Portia, but it’s time to go back
to sleep now,” Damien said, and I looked back at him for a moment
in confusion, just before turning back to see the large hypodermic
needle in the hand of the man next to me.

I didn’t have time to react as I felt the
sting in my neck again and all went dark once more.

When I awoke, at what appeared to be several
hours later, it was to find myself lying comfortably on an
extremely luxurious bed, the likes of which I had never lain on in
my entire life.

I shifted against the soft fabrics as I
looked around and tried to get my fuzzy brain to connect with its
surroundings.

There was a large wooden canopy overhead with
sheer curtain panels that hung down the sides. A beautiful imported
silk duvet covered the bed, which was loaded with massive amounts
of throw pillows of all sizes and varieties.

Sitting up slowly, I examined the Edwardian
styled room with its rich custom-made furnishings. Everything was
in a soothing pallet, decorated in shades of cream and gold.

My gaze ran over the fancy lamp at the
bedside as I turned to look at the nightstand.

No phone. Not that I was really surprised
about that.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I
crawled down onto the floor, so I could look under the end table,
searching for a phone connection. Even the actual phone jack had
been removed, leaving a bare spot in the wall where it had
previously been.

Damien was thorough at least, I thought.

Getting up from the floor, I looked around
the room, my eyes resting on a closed door on the other side of the
bed. I moved over to the door and opened it, revealing a huge
walk-in closet that contained many articles of clothing. Upon
closer perusal of things, I discovered everything in here was my
exact size.

While I found it a little creepy that all
these items had been placed here for my use, I figured it was
probably a good thing since it meant Damien must be planning on
keeping me around for a while, versus the possible alternative.

I walked out of the closet and over to
another door, not far from the one I had just left. This one led to
a large bathroom, complete with a giant whirlpool tub.

The vanity had been fully stocked also. There
was a complete cosmetic line in the shades appropriate for my skin
tone as well as lotions, deodorants, shampoos, and all other hair
care products a girl could possibly need. It could have almost been
exciting to see all this stuff if one didn’t know one was
vacationing with one’s own personal Satan in the middle of
Hell.

Leaving the bathroom, I walked over to the
large picture window against the far wall and pulled the shades
back so I could look out.

I wasn’t familiar enough with the strip to
know exactly which hotel we were in, but I could easily tell we
must be in the penthouse suite of the tower of a resort, as I was
standing at the highest possible point of the building.

The strip glittered like a many faceted jewel
below me, as it was now dark and all the exterior lights were on. I
could see cars and people moving about on the street below, though
I doubted I would be able to get anyone’s attention from this
staggering height.

There was, however, a large balcony outside a
set of double French doors that led to it. Perhaps I might be able
to get someone to notice me from out there. I went to the doors and
tried to open them, but I couldn’t get out. The doors were firmly
secured, completely unmovable, almost as if they had been welded
shut.

I tried magically forcing the lock, but it
didn’t budge an inch. I gave up after a few moments. It wasn’t
actually realistic to think I would be getting any help from that
direction anyway. Even if I did get someone’s attention, Damien
would hear me and whisk me away before anyone would be able to find
me.

I turned back to the room then and rummaged
through drawers in the desk, dressers, and nightstands, looking for
anything that could help me out or be used as a weapon of some
sort, in case I needed it.

I even went over and rubbed my hands over the
marble fireplace mantel to see if I could find any good places to
hide something if the need were to arise.

Of course, the fireplace was gas, so that
ruled out a chimney as a possible means of escape.

I was just getting up off my hands and knees
when I heard a slight rattling sound at the door to my room. I
whipped around quickly, bracing myself to react to whatever might
be coming through it.