Wicked Game (21 page)

             
Hazelle gave him a watery smile, somewhat amused and encouraged by the re-emergence of the old Kaden, the one who'd tried so hard for so long to get into her pants, the one that had cared for her when she was sick, the one that had resisted his own selfish desires for her benefit.

             
“I never said you were,” the old witch said calmly, and then beckoned to her daughter, “Marguerite, bring me my potions chest.”

             
Marguerite didn't look pleased at that prospect but she obeyed, grudgingly, bringing a chest to the old woman. It was small and carved from mahogany, shiny and darkened with age. There was a tarnished brass keyhole. The old witch rummaged through her rags and withdrew a small, intricate gold key tied to a length of red silk ribbon. Inserting it into the lock she gave it a twist and lifted the lid cautiously, careful not to knock any of the small vials arranged inside.

             
“These are my most precious potions...and my most dangerous,” she said ominously as she picked up the tinniest bottle, holding it between forefinger and thumb. It was half filled with a strange, inky looking liquid.

             
“Mother no. She is just a girl, she doesn't know what she is doing...”

Marguerite stepped forwards,
obviously upset. Her pale eyes were wide with fear, unlike that which she had for Kaden. The old witch held up a wizened hand, crippled by arthritis, silencing her daughter.

             
“It is the only way,” the old witch's voice was solemn, the potion sloshing as she held out the bottle to Hazelle, “Take it, child.”

             
“What is it?” Hazelle asked nervously. Apart from the presence of Kaden, in which she had no choice, she considered herself to be done with working magic. Finished. Retired.

             
Nothing good had come of it so far. Only death and heartache. Her intimacy with Kaden didn't count because when the time came that he had to leave she wouldn't be feeling very good at all.

             
“It is the key to your salvation. There is only one way to fight a spirit and that is to enter their world, to challenge them on their plane of existence. This potion will slow your heartbeat and eventually stop it altogether.”

             
“No!” Kaden growled from right behind Hazelle. His shadow loomed over her and the old witch, and she saw him glowering down at the old woman with fury flashing in his onyx eyes, as if he wanted to strike her, to silence her, all pretences of civility and chivalry gone.

             
Hazelle looked back at the old witch. Her face was impassive, her blind eyes betraying nothing. To her credit if she was intimidated she hid it extremely well.

             
“Will I die?” Hazelle asked, her voice constricted by the lump of fear gestating in her throat, almost afraid to hear the answer.

             
The old witch shook her head.

             
“No. Not as long as you have someone there to revive you. I believe your demon would be happy to do the honours.”

             
Kaden growled again, low in his throat, a warning that could not be mistaken. Hazelle wondered for how much longer he could restrain himself, knowing that for Kaden patience was not a virtue.

             
“How long will I have?” Hazelle asked quietly. She had to get the facts straight in her head.

             
“Once your heart stops...mere minutes until death claims you.”

             
“No,” Kaden snarled, pushing Hazelle away from the old witch, standing between them. Hazelle lost her footing and fell, grazing her palms on the stone floor as Kaden wrapped a clawed hand around the witch's throat, not tightly, but enough to warn her of what he was willing to do, if she gave him a reason to.

Marguerite and Johanna raised their hands simultaneously, their palms glowing hot white with energy, magic that was about to be unleashed on Kaden. Kaden was too far gone to care, his black eyes reflecting the dancing firelight, fixed on the old woman as the tips of his talons bit into the tender flesh of her throat, rivets of blood staining her scarves.

              “No my daughters, stand down,” the old witch's voice was clear and commanding,  still calm despite the demon that could be the death of her, “This demon is no fool. He may look human but he is so much more. I would not see any of you harmed.”

             
The old witch's eyes were focused in Hazelle's direction when she said that. She gave a slight incline of her head, enough of a nod to encourage Hazelle.

             
Climbing slowly to her feet Hazelle brushed the dust off her jeans before approaching Kaden, gradually, cautiously, as not to startle him and provoke the beast into lashing out. He was on the edge, a danger to everyone when in such a rage that it threatened to bubble over into chaos. It would go badly for them all, if he lost control. Was this more than simple hatred of witches? Was he reacting like this at the thought of her dying?

             
“Kaden,” she spoke his name as gently as ever, touching his arm lightly. His skin was blisteringly hot beneath her fingers, his demonic powers surging from the source of hell. “Kaden, please let her go.”

             
“You will not die,” he growled without looking at her, his voice distorted, gritting his sharp teeth in a grimace that was like something straight out of a nightmare, “You will
not
die.” 

             
Hazelle gave him a sad smile, lifting her hand to brush a stray lock of hair from the curve of his cheek. He was so heart-achingly beautiful that it almost made her want to weep. If she didn't know any better she would think him an angel, her guardian angel, perfect in every way and always protecting her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

             
“No I will not die...because you will be there to save me.”

             
He looked at her then, as if hearing the sense in her words as she tried to reason with him, to soothe him. He glanced back at the old witch, at his hand, her blood glistening on his claws. Hazelle thought for a moment that he would ignore her and kill the witch anyway. To her relief he released the old woman, flexing his fingers, shooting a warning glare at Marguerite and Johanna, should they think to try anything. Hazelle knew they wouldn't be stupid enough.

Kaden grasped Hazelle's arm above the elbow, not roughly, enough for her to know he wasn't playing any games,
at least not anymore.

             
“You were the one who told me we would deal with this together,” he said sinisterly, squeezing her arm, “You can't go back on your word now. I won't let you. Magic was how you got into this mess, magic that they gave you knowing that it would go wrong. You can't trust them.”

             
“And I can trust you?” she snapped back, cynical, wrenching her arm from his grasp and glaring up at him.

             
He gazed down into her hostile eyes, unblinking, and she didn't need a spell to know what he was thinking.

             
“Yes. Yes you can, Hazelle.”

             
Something throbbed in Hazelle's heart. Once again she saw herself reflected in his eyes, the way he saw her, the one drop of golden light, the only bright and vibrant thing in the sea of darkness that was his soul, except this time she didn't look so weak, so vulnerable. There was a strength and steely determination in her that he had overlooked before but couldn't dismiss now.

             
“Promise me. Promise me we will do this my way. I can help you Hazelle,” he spoke passionately and then seized her hands, holding them carefully so his claws didn't cut her. “Let me help you.”

             
She glanced back at the bleeding witch, the potion bottle still in her hand, waiting for Hazelle to take it. When she looked back at Kaden she nodded.

             
“Okay...we will try it your way, but please could you just wait outside for a few minutes?”             

             
“Outside the store. I don't want him sullying my merchandise,” Marguerite added icily.

             
Kaden's lip curled up as he shot an aggressive glare at Marguerite. She didn't look daunted by him now, rather she was resolved to have him away from her family as quickly as possible. She didn't seem very keen at the thought of Hazelle staying.

“
Witches,” Kaden grumbled under his breath, yet he released Hazelle's hands and stormed out of the storeroom, the bead curtain swinging violently in his wake. She heard the distressed tinkle of the little bell as it was wrenched from the wall and then the slam of the front door.

             
Hazelle deflated, relieved that he hadn't caused more of a scene and shed more blood, reassured that she had some semblance of control over Kaden. He'd been impossible before and she had seen in his previous employment that he didn't take orders from any of his mistresses, from any of his victims. Things were changing, for them both, and they still had to find some middle ground, somewhere between heaven and hell where they could coexist in peace.

             
“I did promise we would deal with this together,” Hazelle admitted. She got the impression that aligning yourself with a demon was frowned upon in the Wiccan community.

             
“There is only enough potion for one heart,” the old witch informed her, “Kaden will be able to find another way in.”

             
“How?”

             
“Come closer to me, child.”

             
Hazelle did as she was told, kneeling beside her, trusting the witches much more than Kaden did. The old woman pressed her wrinkled hand to Hazelle's heart, palm first, and stared at her silently, her face expressionless, emotionless, her white eyes glowing in the firelight. Hazelle looked back, bemused, until it dawned on her. She felt her heart skip a beat when she glanced at the beaded curtain, still swaying from Kaden's over dramatic exit. She looked back at the old witch, shaking her head adamantly.

             
“No.”

             
The old witch smiled at her and nodded. “Yes.”

             
Hazelle stood up, shaking her head. It was impossible. It was more than that. It was unnatural. “We are going to do this Kaden's way.”

             
The old witch held out the potion bottle again, her smile fading, her face solemn and serious.

             
“Take this...for when Kaden's way fails.”

             
Hazelle scrutinised the bottle, the contents calling to her curiosity, to her survival instincts, that deep, primordial need to live. She had faith, both in Kaden and the witches, even though they clashed. One was determined to save her life, the other was likely to end it.

             
Hazelle reached out and took the bottle.

Chapter Thirteen

“So, what's your grand master plan?” Hazelle asked sarcastically as they got into the car. She'd hidden the potion bottle in her jacket pocket, not wanting to cause an argument, not wanting to give him a reason not to trust her.

             
He glowered at her, unamused. What, so he was allowed to taunt her but she wasn't allowed to tease him? How was
that
fair?

             
“This isn't a game, Hazelle. This is serious.”

             
She remembered well when it had been a game to him, one she still didn't know the rules for.

             
She pointed to the cut on her lip, the only physical evidence of the spirit attack she had endured last night. “Oh believe me, I know that.”

             
They drove back the house in silence; the tension between them so thick Kaden's claws couldn't have cut it. They'd retracted again, she saw, and she'd realised before that they only made an appearance when he was angry, horny...or scared. Because that's what she'd sensed in him when the old witch had offered her the potion that would temporarily kill her. At the time she had mistaken the fear flashing in his eyes for fury but from the way his arm had trembled when he'd grabbed the witch's throat, the way his eyes kept darting from Hazelle's face down to her heart...

             
Hazelle had understood what the old witch was insinuating, what she'd meant when she'd touched her heart and spoke of Kaden. That wasn't only impossible and unnatural, it was ludicrous to think that a demon, especially a depraved sex demon, could ever feel anything for a human. She scowled at the thought, trying to dismiss it from her mind, but it always came clawing back into her heart.

             
She and Kaden spent the afternoon at complete odds to the morning, in opposite ends of the kitchen, pretending to ignore each other. Hazelle busied herself with cleaning, needing some distraction, anything, scrubbing counters and polishing cupboard doors, avoiding the breakfast bar where Kaden was sat stiffly on a stool, looking out of the window at the sunlit garden, his face emotionless. If she didn't know any different she might have thought him a living statue.

The sun was starting to set, the night creeping in, and Hazelle could avoid the subject no longer.

              “He will come for me tonight, won't he?”

             
Kaden didn't look at her. “Yes.”

             
“What are we going to do?” Hazelle asked him hopelessly, “He's a ghost, you can't hurt him, you can't even touch him. I tried to last night. I couldn't and he almost killed me.”

             
“You are of the mortal world. I am not. I can hurt him.” Kaden spoke simply, as if her life wasn't on the line, as if there was no chance of a mistake, as if she might not die tonight. She wished she could share in his confidence but her pessimism wouldn't allow it.

             
“How can you be so sure?”

             
“Because I have been contemplating this problem all afternoon, and I believe I have come up with a solution to your problem...and to mine.”

             
“Oh,” she said softly, realising he was talking about his being stranded there, even after their copious fornication.

             
“I think I was summoned here for another purpose...perhaps to protect you.”

             
Hazelle wasn't convinced.

             
“I don't know...” she murmured, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, “Chris wasn't bothering me when I summoned you.”

             
But Kaden was already resolved on it.

             
“This must be it. What else could it be? You need help against a supernatural stalker and I am the only one who can fight him for you. It makes sense,” he insisted vehemently.

             
“Does it?” she asked in a high voice, trying not to sound like she disbelieved him. It was a good theory but, somehow, she knew it wasn't the right one. She thought about her heart again and what the old witch had tried to tell her about Kaden.

             
He looked at her then.

             
“Do you have a better idea?” he asked harshly.

             
She shook her head.

             
“No,” she admitted quietly, dropping her gaze so that he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.

             
Kaden was up from the stool before she could blink, his arms around her, holding her to him like he would never let her go. His flesh was warm and firm, his muscles rippling beneath the thin material of his shirt, infused with a supernatural strength and agility that no human could contest, though a spirit may be able to. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, the scent of his spicy skin now a comfort to her. She would be devastated should she have to let him go tonight, should his theory prove true and render her powerless to make him stay.

             
“I will capture Chris and drag him back to hell with me. You will be safe...and alive.”

             
“And you will be gone,” she sighed sadly, her voice muffled against his shirt.

             
He stood back and looked down at her, his hand reaching up to brush her cheek ever so gently, tracing the line of her jaw with a feather-light touch that made her tingle.               “And you care?”

“
Yes...I care.”

             
Kaden captured her lips with his, kissing her sweetly and shortly. She clung to him, wanting more, wanting it all, but the night was closing in and they were running out of time. She sucked his bottom lip, savouring the taste of him, trying to memorise the feel of him, his skin on hers, her hands in his silky hair, his quivering member inside of her. Nobody would ever be able to compare to him, no mortal man was in the same league, no human man was capable of such feats of pleasure and gratification.

             
It wasn't just the sex and intimacy she would miss. She would miss the company, being able to talk to someone night or day, having someone cook for her and chat about their day with her, someone who wasn't her mom. Regardless of how she'd wanted to rid herself of him at first he had become part of her life, an integral part, and she knew the wound he would leave would be bloody and raw, a hole in her heart that would never completely heal.

             
An hour later the sun had fully set and Hazelle had been around the house, switching the lights off, checking the windows, locking the doors, Kaden remaining closer than her own shadow. He didn't let her out of his sights for a single second. She didn't know when Chris would make his move, only that he would, and she had to be ready for it. It was midnight before she felt any flutter of energy, a flicker of evil that sent a shudder down her spine. Kaden must have sensed it too for he tensed next to her on the couch, his eyes focused on a dark corner of the lounge moonlight refused to illuminate.

             
“What is it? Can you see him?” Hazelle asked in a hushed voice. She could feel something, only a hint of what she'd felt the night before, but she couldn't see any smoke or a shadowy figure.

             
Kaden didn't answer. He stood, slowly and subtly, with the effortless grace of a predator stalking its prey, his nails growing into thick, shiny black talons that she knew could wreak so much havoc on human flesh. Though their foe wasn't human any longer she hoped they could distract Chris, keep him occupied long enough for Kaden to drag him into hell where he belonged, where they both belonged.

             
Menacing laughter echoed around the room and it didn't come from Kaden. It was high-pitched, distant and disturbing. Hazelle strained to see but couldn't pinpoint the source, her eyes unable to pierce the veil between life and death, making her more vulnerable. Kaden stood before her, guarding her as the shadows on the walls converged, gathering into the rough shape of a human figure around Chris's height. Only Chris wasn't human any more, she wasn't sure what he was, she didn't know the limitations of his new powers. What she did know was that he was evil and wanted to hurt her. Kaden thought he was evil...and he wanted to save her.

             
“You want to pick on someone,” Kaden growled quietly, “Pick on me.”

             
“Hazelle...have...Hazelle...”

             
It was the same distorted, broken, crackling voice she had heard last night when she'd thought it was coming from the TV. It was like a bad cellphone reception, the signal weakened by the walls between worlds.

“
You will not have Hazelle. She belongs to me.”

Something twisted sweetly in Hazelle's stomach at those words.

              The laughter came again, louder this time, closer, resonating through Hazelle, quickening her heart and making her legs ache with the need to run, to flee from the threat of death and find sanctuary with the living. She knew he would follow her, till the end of her life, and most likely into the next one. Instead of running she scrunched up into the cushions, trying to make herself as small as possible, wishing she could disappear and reappear somewhere else, like Kaden could. He could abandon her right now, forsake her, give her to the evil creature that craved her from beyond the grave.

             
He didn't.

             
“This ends now,” Kaden said firmly, flexing his claws, their sharp edges gleaming in the moonlight with promises of violence, “You're coming with me.”

             
Kaden lunged at the shadow, slashing fiercely. His claws rippled through smoke, doing no damage. Chris chuckled and Hazelle couldn't just sit there, trembling, watching the fight for her life. She was on her feet, running up the stairs, wanting to put as much distance as she could between her and Chris, protector or no. She fell into her bedroom, grabbed a fistful of chalk and the spell book before shutting herself in the bathroom, locking the door, knowing it would keep neither entity out. From below she could hear ferocious growls and mocking laughter and knew the battle for her soul still raged, though she couldn't tell who was winning. She drew a shaky pentagram on the linoleum floor, joining the points of the star to form a circle, a pentacle for extra protection. She sat in the middle, legs crossed, flicking hysterically through the spell book, searching for something, anything, a spell, a charm, a hex that would detain Chris and keep Kaden in her life for a little longer.

             
Closing her eyes she covered her ears, humming to try and block out the sounds from below. They stopped eventually but the silence was even more unnerving so she wrapped her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth.

             
I'm going to die...I'm going to die...I'm going to die...

             
A knock on the door made her jump. Could spirits knock on a door? Did they even need to? She didn't hear the disdainful laughter or smell the stench of decaying flesh that accompanied Chris. She smelt...she smelt...spices...sex...
Kaden...

             
She was on her feet, unlocking the door and yanking it open, desperate to be in his arms again. Kaden was stood there, so close, his fangs and claws gone, his human disguise slipping back into place as the darkness receded in his eyes. She studied him for a moment then threw her arms around him, never so happy to see him in her life.

“
I thought you were gone. Either dead or just...just gone. What happened? Where's Chris? What did you do to him?”

             
Kaden wasn't hugging her back. She looked up at him, bewildered. His face was expressionless, blank, his eyes empty and emotionless. She frowned at him, releasing him and waving her hand in front of his face. There was no reaction so she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him full on the lips, hoping it would be enough to rouse him from his strange trance. He responded to that, gripping the tops of her arms and pinning her against him as he ravaged her mouth, his hands roaming all over her body, stroking her breasts, caressing her hips, lingering in the sweet spot between her thighs. She ached there, longing to feel his mouth between her legs, for him to probe her, taste her there with his tongue and other appendages.

             
“Kaden...” she gasped breathlessly, trying to stay focussed even though everything was a blissful blur, “Kaden...what about Chris?”

             
Kaden picked her up by the ass as if she weighed nothing, lifting her as she wrapped her legs around him. He kissed her all the while as he carried her from the bathroom to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and throwing her down on the bed. She didn't complain, instead she willingly tugged down her pyjama bottoms, wishing that she owned another negligee, pleased she was wearing the French knickers he had for bought her. He tore them off with his teeth. She tensed in anticipation of his tongue between her silky folds but he teased her first, planting small, light, tickling kisses on the inside of her thighs, licking her legs, his teeth scraping sensuously against her most sensitive skin, making her shiver.