Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 (25 page)

“Section you’re visiting?”

A fraction of the tension uncoiled from Sam, but he kept his hand hovering over Lucy. “Sector six.” Situations like this, a lie was easier than bringing added attention to himself by openly trekking into the restricted zone.

“Weapons?”

There was no point in lying. He’d never make it through the scanner. Leaving Lucy behind would be an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. He’d have to manually sneak Aster’s soul back to the gate—in other words, convince the spirit to use its own two feet and walk. Providing he managed that much, Sam would then have to knock out the guard, grab Lucy and chamber Aster’s soul so he could transport him back to the earth realm. All without getting his own ass shot at by any of the hundreds of guards manning this fucking rock.

Piece of cake.

Grunting, he freed Lucy from her holster and tossed her onto the tray. The guard buzzed him through. Sam eyed the massive reinforced metal doors as they slowly yawned open. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.
Here goes nothing.

Her stomach jittery with nerves, Marabella nibbled her thumbnail and rose from the couch. “I barely feel him.”

Cass gave her a soothing pat on the arm. “Try not to worry about it. Stress will only weaken the link.”

She really wished Cass had mentioned that sooner. “Is there something I should be doing?” She hated this waiting-around stuff that made her feel as useful as a one-legged sloth.

“It’s all pretty much up to Sam now. Once he has Aster, he’ll lock into the link and ride it home.” Cass attempted a smile of reassurance. “Everything will be fine. In the meantime, just focus on keeping your energy strong.”

She easily read between the lines. Cass didn’t want her to freak out and break the link. Yeah, no problem. She sucked in a calming breath. A distraction would go a long way in getting her nerves under control.

“Is it okay if I work downstairs for a while?” She sort of felt like an idiot for asking, but she was basically still in training with this familiar-link stuff. She didn’t want to do anything to screw things up.

“Sure. Give me a sec and I’ll be right down.” Cass headed in the direction of the guest bath.

After checking to make sure she hadn’t left the coffeepot on in the kitchen, Marabella ventured downstairs and unlocked the door leading into Bella’s Boutique. Flipping lights on along the way, she ventured toward the front entrance. A scuffing noise sounded behind her. Cass. “That was fast.”

Marabella started to pivot just as a hand slammed over her mouth. Those same hands dug into her with brutal force and yanked her against a thick belly. Terror clawed its way up her esophagus. The staccato tap of approaching footsteps filled her ears, competing with the dull rush of her pounding heartbeat. She struggled against her captor, fear and panic jockeying for the foremost sensation within her.

Self-preservation broke through her fog of terror, and she called upon every ounce of her magic. It manifested in a dazzling burst of light. A sharp, painful prick jabbed into her arm, and she yelped, the sound smothered by the palm clamped over her mouth. A strange wooziness swept over her, and the brilliant light surrounding her receded.

“You’re an extremely difficult woman to get alone, my dear.” A dark-haired woman with cold eyes and an even chillier smile stepped into view. She capped the syringe in her hands before slipping it into the pocket of her black suit jacket.

The hands gripping Marabella lifted her before upending her over her captor’s shoulder. She opened her mouth, attempting to produce enough noise to alert Cass, but nothing came out. Her head feeling impossibly heavy, she closed her eyes. She struggled to fix the image of Sam in her brain. Their already-weakened link sputtered and dimmed. A moment later, unconsciousness claimed her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sam bypassed the alley filled with raucous hellhounds engaged in a rowdy game of poker. A howl of triumph bayed from one of the cigar-chewing players, followed by the loud chorus of groans from his comrades. Sam took note of the street number so he’d remember not to pass this way on his return trip. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was the wicked snap of a hellhound’s teeth chomping at his ass. Even out of their hound form, those badass motherfuckers weren’t something you wanted to tangle with.

Keeping well out of the steam-powered floodlight’s phosphorescent glow, he made his way to the outskirts of sector nine. Avoiding the heavily armed checkpoint, he waited for the passing patrol to move farther down the lane before scaling the perimeter wall and dropping to the other side. His avenue of entry might have been an inconvenient ball breaker, but it was more prudent than going through security and being under their radar.

The shadowed warrens providing some obscurity from the ever-vigilant cameras and guards, he skulked along the rows of resident housing. Thank the devil no direct camera surveillance was trained on the entrances in this section. The high-ranking level of the sequestered souls in sector nine guaranteed them luxuries most of the other residents of the Death Wards were unable to obtain—privacy being foremost.

He located Aster Batticus’s address on one of the signposts and strode toward the surprisingly modest cottage situated at the end of the lane. Apparently Aster wasn’t one of those pretentious assholes who liked to live the highlife in his afterlife. Sam eyed the exterior, debating which point of entry would be the easiest to break into.

Before he settled on a choice, the front door swung open and a stooped figure hobbled onto the porch. Wizened, ancient eyes peered at Sam. “You planning to stand there all damn day or come inside?”

Before Sam could untie his tongue, the warlock rapped his long staff on the porch floor. “I’m dead and could probably
still
move faster than you.” Aster suddenly vanished from the porch and reappeared directly in front of Sam. “Makes me wonder how you managed to make it past security with that slow brain of yours.”

Sam had been insulted by plenty of souls in his life, but he’d never met one quite as cantankerous as Aster. Time to put the ornery son of a bitch in his place. “Listen, old man, you’re coming with me if you like it or not. Whether I make the trip pleasant for you depends on precisely how much you piss me off. I advise you to keep it to a minimum.”

Aster cocked his head to the side as he apparently mulled Sam’s threat. Finally he shrugged. “What the hell? Not like I’ve got anything better to do. Especially since the only thing on the telly these days is reruns of
Days of Our Death
. Don’t know why I even popped for cable. Damn waste of money.” He glared at Sam like he was somehow personally responsible for the Death Wards lousy choice in television programming. “All right, let’s do this.”

“We’re going to have to hoof it. My gun’s locked in security.”

“
Walk
? You’ve got to be shitting me. Do you have any idea how that’s going to affect my gout?” Aster snorted. “Security. What kind of damn soul collector are you anyway? A crappy one, that’s what. In my day, I probably coulda busted out a thousand souls at one time, minimum. Blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back while walking uphill in a blizzard. Without any shoes on. Because we didn’t even
have
shoes back in those days.”

Sam’s head began to throb. This was going to be the longest fucking walk of his life.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Her wrists chafing from the ropes binding them, Marabella gathered every ounce of her strength to lift her head and peer around at her surroundings. A stark white wall sat opposite her chair. She gasped when she noticed Cass’s slumped figure tied onto a chair identical to hers.

“Don’t worry, she’s not dead. But apparently she has a lower tolerance for chloral hydrate than you do.”

Marabella jerked her gaze in the direction of the snide female voice. The dark-haired woman from earlier sat perched on the edge of a desk, her legs crossed in a businesslike pose. Pricilla, she presumed.

“Did you enjoy your nap?”

Marabella ignored the question. “Let me go.”

“I’m afraid not. You’re entirely too valuable. Not to mention the key to my plan.” Pricilla uncrossed her legs and stood. She waved to the pile of syringes resting on the desk.

Marabella stared at the needles and swallowed the lump of dread forming in her throat. “What are you planning to do? Drug me again?”

“No. There’s nothing in these vials. Yet. But soon they’ll be filled with your blood. Exactly enough of it for each member of the council I plan to weaken and ultimately destroy.” Pricilla picked up the largest of the syringes and stroked its barrel lovingly. “But this one is reserved special for Marcus. An extra helping of your blood…not even an immortal demon will be able to fight off its corruptive powers.”

“W-why would you think my blood will corrupt him? Or any of them?”

“A demon’s seal is impenetrable, yet you somehow managed to break Samael’s. I saw the evidence of that with my own eyes. Now I intend to use it to my advantage.”

Self-preservation once again broke through her panic. “But…Sam’s seal wasn’t broken through my blood.”

“I know. You fucked him. You human whores—always so eager to spread your legs for a big cock.” Cold disdain flashed in Pricilla’s black eyes. “Obviously I can’t have you fuck Marcus and every member of the council, so your blood will just have to do.”

“It won’t work.”

Pricilla stepped forward and wrenched Marabella’s chin up. “You better pray it does. It’s my rightful destiny to kill Marcus and his precious council. If you screw that up for me, the pain you’ll suffer will make you beg me for death.”

Fear threatened to overtake Marabella, but she beat it back. “Sam will never let you get away with this. H-he’ll come for me.”

Pricilla’s icy laugh lashed across Marabella’s face. “You foolish girl. Do you think he gives a damn about you? He’d save his own ass before protecting yours. And since I ensured he’d be kept busy keeping that ass of his from being shot at in the Death Wards, he won’t be going anywhere soon, believe me.”

She gaped at Pricilla. “H-how…?”

Smugness danced across Pricilla’s cold, perfect features. “You think I didn’t know your plans to ship him to the Death Wards? Who do you think planted the seed of that particular idea into your tiny brains in the first place?”

Her mind raced to Cass and Sam’s conversation regarding Pricilla’s attempts to broker a deal with the reapers. “You really had no intention of hiring a reaper to go after Aster, did you? It was a decoy.”

“I have no need of Aster now. Acquiring your blood is far easier and less time-consuming than convincing Aster to break Marcus’s immortality spell.” The cunningness in Pricilla’s smile amped up several notches. “It’s a simple matter, getting people to do exactly what you want. Particularly when those in question are so predictable. I knew if I made enough of a show of sniffing around, Samael and his cousins would find a way to rebrand him so they could defeat me.” She gave a scornful snort. “Like that’s remotely possible. But here’s where the brilliance of my plan really comes in—to rebrand him, they needed a witch. Presumably
you
. In essence, I killed two birds with one stone. I set into motion Samael being apprehended on the Death Wards, and his cousin led me straight to you.”

Pricilla clucked her tongue when Marabella remained silent. “Fortunately, there aren’t that many occult shops in the state of Georgia. Otherwise my stash of spies would have been spread rather thin.”

So that was how Pricilla was able to find her. Someone must have followed Nikki when she’d left Charmed Moon yesterday.

Pricilla’s fingers dug deeper into Marabella’s skin. “You’re going to save me a lot of extra work in the end. It almost makes up for being deprived the pleasure of torturing and killing Samael firsthand.”

A spike of fear and anger speared through Marabella. Her already low regard for Pricilla plummeted by several notches. In the eyes of most, any demon was inherently evil and despicable, but thanks to Sam, she knew that wasn’t always the case. There were probably plenty more like him in the demon realm who still retained some degree of conscience that made them redeemable. Pricilla wasn’t one of them. If she did manage to kill Marcus and the council, no doubt her reign would be a vicious plague upon the earth. Marabella intended to do everything in her power to keep that from happening. But she couldn’t do it on her own. Superpowers or not, she needed reinforcements.

She needed Sam.

“Do you ever stop bitching?” Sam slid an irritated glance in Aster’s direction and for the millionth time, resisted the urge to strangle the spirit. It was getting damn hard to remind himself of the importance of keeping the warlock’s soul in one piece.

“What do you expect? You picked the longest possible route.”

He’d already explained to Aster the reasoning for it—that they bloody well couldn’t stroll through the middle of the Death Wards and not raise an alarm—but Aster remained stubbornly obtuse. Sam was beginning to think the warlock just liked to complain. A lot.

With a great deal more bitching on Aster’s part, they managed to scale the perimeter wall and leave sector nine behind. From here on out, they’d have to be on high alert and out of reach of the heightened surveillance. He said as much to Aster and received a long diatribe regarding his dubious abilities as a soul collector. He debated shoving Aster’s staff into an available electrical socket and over-amping the warlock’s magnetic field enough to knock him out for a while, but that might be more trouble than it was worth.

“Your hair is too long,” Aster muttered. “You look like a damn hippy.”

Then again…

A shiver of sensation shuttled across Sam’s nerve synapses, putting a skidding halt on his disgruntled musings. Finally, a transmission signal.

“Sam, I need you. Pricilla. Blood…”

The faint ripple of Marabella’s voice in his head startled him as much as her cryptic words. He hadn’t been expecting a telepathic link yet. Those took longer to develop. “Bella?”