Wicked Game (19 page)

She had summoned him for sex, hadn’t she? She'd been depressed, lonely and bitter on the day she had decided to take her destiny into her own hands. Why else would anyone be desperate enough to raise a sex demon? It made sense, in a diabolic, depraved, unholy sort of way, but in all of her research she couldn’t find anything on a demon that lingered in the human realm after the deed was done, remaining to haunt his human victim. She trawled through pages and pages of information, reading copies of ancient books cover to cover that had been scanned online from libraries and private collections across the globe. She even posed a question on a message board devoted to the occult but received no answer, no help, no salvation what so ever.

At last her mother began to notice that something was wrong between her and Kaden.
The intervention came at breakfast a week later, when Kaden was already long gone.

“
Have you and Kaden had a fight?”

Hazelle shrugged and slumped on a stool, still sleepy after being up half the night on the internet, reading until her eyes blurred and
her head ached.

“
Not exactly,” she muttered, not knowing how much she could disclose to her mom without arousing suspicions, pissing off Kaden, or making mom think she was unhinged.

“
Oh.”

“
He had some bad news and he…he’s not taking it very well,” Hazelle said honestly, keeping it as vague as she could. Her mom was a natural born gossip; the less Hazelle gave her than the less she could tell David.

“
I see. It’s just…I noticed he comes back late at night. Every night. And I wonder if the thought had occurred to you that he might be seeing other women,” Mom said softly, as if trying to break it to her gently.

Hazelle blushed. The thought had crossed her mind on more than one occasion, and with it came a jealousy like she had never known before. She knew he had been with other women, countless other women, and he would be with other women after her but she didn’t like to dwell on it.

Hazelle gave her mother a long, hard look.

“
What makes you think me and him have…?”

Mom rolled her eyes.

“I’m not blind, Hazelle. He’s a very attractive man and I’ve seen the way he looks at you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes. And I’ve seen the way you look back at him, too,” her mother hinted.

Hazelle flushed again, cheeks burning
hot enough to roast marshmallows off them, flustered.

“
I don’t know what you mean…he…I…”

“
You like him. There is no point in denying it; its written all over your face. And he likes you. Though I don’t know what he’s playing at, in avoiding you,” Mom said reprovingly, with a frown, “Guilty conscience, if you ask me.”

Luckily Hazelle wasn’t asking her and even more fortunately mom had to leave early for work. Hazelle waved her goodbye from the front door and went upstairs to get dressed. It was her day off work, the sun was shining outside, the first blooms of spring were growing in the garden and she was sick of being stuck inside the house like a friendless loner. She checked her email, had a wash, brushed her teeth and slipped on a dress patterned with flowers, pretty and girlish, a little warm for summer but ideal for a calm spring day.

Shoved in the bottom of her wardrobe was the ruined negligee. She wasn’t sure why she’d kept it, as a token of an amazing night or as a reminder of Kaden when he was finally gone. She scrunched it up in her hand, bringing it to her nose, inhaling. It smelt musky, like spices intertwined with sex, the way their bodies had been when she’d been wearing it.

She smelt something else too, a hint of decay, a
trace of blood. Glancing down she saw marks she had missed before, little red splashes amongst the sea of pale pink silk. Whether it was Kaden’s blood or her own she didn’t know. She flung the negligee back into the wardrobe and slammed the door shut, leaning against it, panting, sweat stinging in her armpits savagely as she shook with terror.

There really was no escape from him. Death was only the beginning. She had changed the rules by killing
Chris, but they were still playing the same old game.

She splashed her face with cool water, studying her reflection in the mirror as water dripped from her
cheeks. She was so pale, exhausted, not sleeping well without Kaden by her side, keeping the worst of the nightmares at bay. Chris had free rein over her dreams and it was starting to take its toll.

Half an hour later she had composed herself enough to leave the house. She roamed the mall, browsing clothes and shoes without any real inclination to buy anything, avoiding the store where they had purchased Kaden’s underwear from. She bought coffee and a donut from a street vendor and sat in the park, wishing she had some company. Sometimes she thought she felt someone spying on her, the back of her neck prickling with self-awareness, but when she turned her head and scanned the park and street suspiciously she saw only people minding their own business, young couples walking hand in hand, mothers with
strollers and squealing toddlers, old women scolding their baffled husbands. Human life played out before her; every day people living their ordinary lives with no inkling, no notion of what lingered in shadow, what hunted them at night, what hungered for their bodies, blood and souls. She was now part of a select few, like the old witch, like Marguerite and Johanna, who knew the truth, who knew of the creatures that stalked the earth, determined to consume it.

She returned home, depressed and with a little less cash in her pocket, though she hadn’t bought anything extravagant. She had thought about buying a new negligee as a surprise for Kaden but had dismissed the idea. Kaden hadn’t shown the slightest b
it of interest in wooing her since that night, the night that was supposed to be his last with her, the night that everything she had believed in, everything she had taken for granted had been stripped away from her. Kaden wasn’t an all knowing, all powerful being who could do as he pleased. He was governed by the laws of life and the universe, warped as they were. It seemed he too was muddling through life, like the rest of them, trying to find the right path. Even demons made mistakes.

She fixed herself a light dinner, salad with a bit of chicken and cheese, forcing herself to eat it through the misery. Mom had left a note, she wouldn’t be home for a few days.
David had suggested taking an impromptu break to San Francisco, Mom leaving her with some advice about standing up for herself and not letting herself be bullied this time. If only she knew that this time it was no human that intimidated her, it was a demon, and quite possibly a violent, vicious, restless spirit seeking revenge on her, wanting to hurt her more than any human could.

After her pitiful meal she retired to the lounge, lying on the couch and flicking idly through channels until she settled on a nature documentary about monkeys. Unable to concentrate she stretched out, her head sinking into the cushion
s, her eyelids drooping until she succumbed to sleep.

When she opened her eyes again it was dark, night having fully settled, the programme long finished and the TV crackling with static, the glow dancing on her face. Frowning, she sat up and glanced at the clock. It was long past midnight. Was Kaden home? She thought he would have the common courtesy to wake her so she could go to bed, which was much comfier than the couch. Then again, maybe not. He liked making women ache with the need for him, though usually in all the good ways and very rarely in any of the bad
ones.

She yawned, switched the TV off and was about to leave the room when
it flickered back on, static roaring in her ears, getting louder and louder, and through it she thought she could hear a voice.

“
Hazelle…Hazelle…”

She yanked the plug from the wall socket and the TV was dark once again. She knew she was awake, that she wasn’t dreaming it, which meant she had to be imagining it. Stress was getting the better of her and causing her to hallucinate, to hear things that weren’t there, that
couldn't
be there.

Satisfied, she glared at the offending TV before turning away but something stopped her dead in her tracks, the fizzle of static, the crackle of a voice mocking her.

“Hazelle…Hazelle…hate…have…Hazelle…”

Horrified, Hazelle fled from the room. All the lights in the house were off. She tried one, flicking it desperately, to no avail. She tried the ones in the kitchen but none of them would work. Adrenaline pounded through her as she lunged at the doorknob, twisting it with all her might.
Even though she knew the back door wasn’t locked it wouldn’t budge. She tried to open the window. The handle was stiff, stuck fast.

She was trapped.

It was like the house was against her, like it was possessed. She ran up the stairs at top speed, hoping she could find something in the spell book, something to protect her, something to exorcise whatever was playing with her. She didn’t get that far.

Something shoved her, hard, and she fell up the stairs, bashing her knee. She knew she hadn’t tripped over her own feet, she was clumsy but she felt the bruise of hands on her back. Whatever invisible entity had pushed her she could feel its lingering presence like a fist in her gut and she doubled over in agony,
racked with guilt and remorse, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She forced herself to crawl up the last of the stairs, sobbing, struggling to breathe, something chuckling darkly in her ear, something she couldn’t possibly have imagined in her worst dreams. It was so cold, it froze the tears on her cheeks and they fell from her face, raining down like diamonds, shattering upon impact.

“
Hazelle…here…”

Hazelle flipped over onto her back, her eyes scrutinising the dark corridor behind her as she retreated, sensing evil all around her, something far worse than the sin Kaden exuded.

Kaden
. She wanted him. She needed him.

Now.

“Hazelle…”

“
Leave me alone!” she cried, her voice trembling. She tried to be brave, tried not to show weakness, but she couldn’t even see what she was fighting against, what tormented her, hungered for her, wanted to have her.

A cloud of swirling smoke came up the stairs, hovering in the air, and by the time it reached the top i
t had concentrated into the shape of a man about Chris’s height. There were no distinguishable facial features, but there was no denying that it was him come to claim his revenge. His hatred for her resonated around them, so thick and foul she could have cut it with a knife, though she knew no knife would slice his spirit flesh.

“
Hazelle…hurt…,”
he wheezed and then he attacked.

She shrieked as he tried to suffocate her, black smoke rushing down her throat and smothering her, blinding her, sapping her strength away. She coughed, gagging, her eyes streaming as she struggled to breath. The black smoke tasted rancid, acidic, the way his kisses had in the dream. She lashed out at him and he retaliated, slapping her, splitting her lip. She was dying…

The image of the pentagram came to her mind, one surrounded by a sacred circle, shimmering with her blood and Kaden’s like the one downstairs in the basement. She latched on to it, embraced it, trying to push it out and direct it towards the creature that had once been Chris, the one that assaulted her now. It was working; the spirit was recoiling from her faith in such a symbol, in her belief that it would protect her, save her now when she needed saving the most. She pictured Kaden, furious as he had been on the night they had both bled on the pentagram, his claws and teeth razor sharp, his eyes blazing fully black and reflecting the candlelight. She envisioned him stood before her like that now, defending her honour, defending her from death. She coughed up the last of the black smoke as
it
screeched, an inhuman sound echoing around her, and then dispersed, leaving nothing but wisps of shadow and soul.

Chapter Twelve

It was Kaden who found her at dawn, huddled in the corner, trembling.

             
She jerked the first time he touched her, flinching away from his fingers.

             
“Its just me,” he said, his voice soft, seeking to soothe her, “I won't hurt you.”

             
“He was here,” she whispered harshly, her throat so dry it ached,“He was
here
.”

             
Kaden frowned, perplexed. He couldn't understand. How could he? She didn't even understand it herself.

             
He is dead. He is dead and he was here...

             
“He? He who?”

             
Hazelle came to her senses then and realised he wouldn't know who she was talking about, who was haunting her from beyond the grave, who had infiltrated her last night, trying to destroy her from within. Feeble, insipid grey light filtered through the blinds and in the distance she heard a rumble of thunder. A storm was coming, but she already felt like it was here. Kaden's hair was windswept and still dry, his hands dirty, his clothes dusty. Where had he been? Where did he go?

             
She looked away, biting her lip.

             
“I have...I have something to tell you,” she confessed quietly, knowing that she couldn't keep what she knew a secret any longer, knowing she should never have kept it a secret in the first place.

             
The rules of this game had changed. She'd changed them with her curse and now her sanity, her very life, everything depended on the truth. Somehow she'd escaped this time, barely, by some miracle, but there was no guarantee she would survive the next encounter with the ghoul that had once been her boyfriend.

             
Kaden didn't question her as she stood, her legs stiff and protesting from being locked in the same defensive position for hours. She limped to her bedroom, Kaden following in her wake, his face formidable as he loomed over her like a portentous, menacing shadow, though not one she feared in the same way as she had the shadow last night. He closed the door quietly behind them and turned to face her.

             
“Its okay. Mom has gone away for a few days with David. We are al-...we can speak freely.”

To say that they were alone would have been a lie. She doubted daylight would chase Chris away.
He could be anywhere, at any time, still in the house she suspected.

             
“Hazelle...you're bleeding,” Kaden's voice was deep and ominous as he approached her, reaching out to touch her lips. She eluded his fingers, knowing that if he touched her now, so tenderly, as if he cared for her, then she would start crying and might not be able to stop.

             
It couldn't be often that the sight of blood disturbed him. He'd shed more than enough of it in his time, but she walked to the mirror, still cracked, and saw that he was right. Her chin was stained with dry blood and her bottom lip was crimson with a fresh flow because she'd been worrying it. She touched her lip with quivering fingers, cringing at the sting.

             
“Did you have an accident?” Kaden asked, sounding unconvinced as he said it.

             
She shook her head and gave a shaky, dazed laugh, even though there was nothing remotely funny about this. “No. This was no accident.”

             
She opened her spare drawer, filled with all the odds and ends she couldn't categorise, and pulled out a photograph. It was Chris, taken when he'd still been the gentleman she'd believed him to be. He was sat casually on a bench in the sunlight, dressed in jeans and a Korn T-shirt, a quirky, almost charming smile on his face. She held the picture out to Kaden. He took it from her without comment.

             
“That is Chris. That
was
Chris,” she corrected herself. Chris had been nothing like that when he'd died. He was an ugly misshapen shadow of the man she hoped he was, the man she hoped he could be, and he was even less like that now. Death had not been kind to him, though even as a disembodied spirit he could still make her bleed.

             
“The funeral we went to? This is the guy?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Was he an old boyfriend?” Kaden asked, still not looking at her. He stroked his thumb over the picture, his face inscrutable, which usually didn't bode well.

             
Was he surprised? Angry? Envious? If he was he had no reason to be. She had never truly loved Chris, never craved his intimate touch, never wanted him to touch her more. Kaden was a demon but he was more of a man than Chris would ever be to her, dead or alive. He was kinder, more caring, more humane than the monster Chris had become, the monster she had turned him into.

“
Technically, yes, he was,” she admitted shyly, “Though you know that we didn't...we never...”

             
Hazelle fumbled over her words, finding this difficult to explain, not really knowing where to begin. She took a deep breath. This was going to be harder than she had thought. She didn't know quite how he would react, though she was willing to bet all her life savings that it wouldn't be pretty, that his fury would bring out the beast in him, that she would see his teeth and claws again before this talk was through. She could have done with them last night, though if a knife couldn't leave a mark on restless spirit flesh she doubted they would have much affect either.

             
“What has he got to do with the blood on your face?” Kaden asked, looking at her now, narrowing his eyes as the black in them began to swell with suspicion. She saw the distrust in them, the darkness. She knew demons didn't like to be lied to and found it slightly amusing, yet very sad, that it should be the demon distrusting the human.

             
“I've been having dreams. Not about you,” she added quickly, when he opened his mouth, “About Chris. About his spirit haunting me, trying to kill me in my sleep, promising revenge on me in reality. I just thought they were dreams from a guilty conscience, or that I was going mad, but then last night he came to me, or whatever is left of him did, and he almost succeeded in killing me.”

             
“Hazelle are you...?” Kaden lunged, grasping her wrist and drawing her purposely towards him. Gently.

             
She didn't resist. He examined her face with keen eyes for any other injury.

             
“I'm okay,” she insisted, touched by his concern for her, “I managed to fend him off. But I know he will be back, most likely tonight. He wants me dead and in the ground, like him.”

“
But why...what did you do Hazelle? Why would anyone want you dead?”

             
He couldn't understand why someone would want to kill her, a human of little consequence, at least in his eyes. The doubt was back in them, and she knew he was right not to trust her. She had deceived him, lied to him, hid important things from him and placed herself in mortal danger, and more, by doing all of that. If she died before the terms of their contract were fulfilled what would happen to him? Would he automatically return to hell or would he be stranded on earth, roaming and lonely forever, never to be summoned by a woman again, fucking them wherever he found them?

             
She'd been foolish, so selfish not to realise how her choices affected other people, other demons, how her mistakes could change the destinies of others. She was a coward, an idiot, and now she was going to pay the price with her death. There was no way she could fight Chris, he wasn't human anymore, wasn't even part of this world. He had transcended, transformed, evolved into the evil spirit that wanted nothing more than to throttle her to death with her own sins.

             
“Because...because...because I cast a spell on him!” she cried, and then dropped her gaze, murmuring, “Almost the same one as I cast on you.”

             
Silence. It stretched on and on, seemingly forever as her heart beat harder and harder and all she could feel was the painful pounding in her chest, anticipating Kaden's reaction to her confession.

             
“Almost?” his voice came as a quiet, barely audible growl.

             
She nodded, tears in her eyes, unable to look into his as she bit her lip so hard it bled again. She'd done enough crying and bleeding recently but there was no denying that Kaden frightened her on a deeper, darker level, much the way Chris had, much more than she liked to admit.

             
“You cast a killer curse on me?” he said scathingly, his voice raw with unrestrained anger, “You tried to kill me?”

             
“No!” Hazelle said quickly, horrified that he could think such a thing of her. But she had to admit the evidence was damning.

             
She looked up to see he had his back to her, his shoulder's hunched, muscles rippling with raw power.

             
She tried to explain.

             
“I didn't know that it would kill him. I wanted to erase his memories of me so he would stop stalking me.”

             
“And what about me? Which memories of mine were you trying to erase? Did you try to make me forget you too?”

             
“No, of course not. I told you before I wanted to see...to see what you truly felt, to see if you actually could feel. I didn't know if I could trust you or believe a single word you said. I didn't tamper with your memories Kaden, I wouldn't do that to you. I promise.”

             
As she spoke she approached him, her hands rising, palms faced outwards, partly to show him that she meant no harm but mostly for self defence, afraid he might attack at any moment. She had to calm him down, to make him see sense, to beg for his forgiveness. His hands had been tight fists before and then she saw them unfurl, his black claws growing and shining with the threat of bloodshed.

             
“Why didn't you just ask me? How could you not see, how I didn't force you, how I tried to respect your wishes...how I cared for you when you were sick?” he said thickly, and she could hear the beast contained inside him pushing through, making his voice guttural as it roared for release, for revenge.

             
“That's what I saw in your mind, how you see me differently from other women, different from how I see myself,” she said in a small, misty voice, still awed by that, trying to encourage the lush golden light she had seen in his mind when he'd spoken her name, the goodness she knew was hidden away inside him aching to grow.

             
He tensed when she touched his arm, ever so lightly. Uncertain she was doing the right thing she tensed too, unsure of what her next move should be, or if he would even give her a chance to make one. She could hear him growling faintly, deep in his chest, the vibrations rumbling in his chest and flowing through to her arm, making her heart beat faster. Whether it was a warning to keep her distance or because of his anger she didn't know. All she knew was that when he whirled around, grasped her shoulders roughly and covered her mouth with his she thought she was going to die.

He kissed her desperately, as if he would never kiss her again, his tongue dancing with hers, caressing it, claiming her. She clung to him,
kissing back fiercely with a lust for him that made her tingle from her lips to the tips of her toes. He was an assault on all the senses, his flawless face, his bewitching voice, the feel of his silky skin beneath her hands, his delicious scent surrounding her, the sweet taste of his lips as he devoured hers. All her doubts, all of her fears were banished by his ardent kisses, by the closeness of their hearts, by the blistering heat of his passionate touch.

             
“Does this mean you forgive me?” she gasped, breathless, her lips brushing his when she spoke. His answering kiss convinced her that he did.

             
She felt strangely safe in his arms, protected as she tamed the beast in him with her tongue, bending him to her will, to her light. She realised then that the golden radiance she had seen in his mind wasn't because of her. It
was
her. She had braved the darkness in his soul and infused it with light that made him challenge his own desires, his twisted morals, his very reason for existing. She was inside him the way he had been inside of her, it was what she did to him, how he felt about her, what he would do to have her.

             
And have her he did. Many times. Many ways. She spent the morning moaning with blinding pleasure, writhing in delicious delight, caring little for the rain that pelted the windows and the storm that raged outside, lightning illuminating his obsidian eyes before he buried his face between her legs. Thunder rattled everything in the house, dislodging shards of broken mirror, sending them crashing to the ground as the world exploded around her in a symphony of colour and light.