Demon Spelled (26 page)

Troz squeezed her. “Take the memories, Lyx.”

Warmth filtered into her from where Lyx’s fingers were positioned. Understanding her purple demon worked some type of hocus-pocus, Sanja melted against Troz and allowed them to have their way.

LYX BURIED INTO
her memories to snag the one he wanted. He looked at Troz. His lover’s lips were in a straight line, and his eyes flashed with fury. It didn’t matter that whatever had transpired between Michael and Sanja occurred before they knew her. What they deemed important was that the archangel had done
something
to their woman. Lyx would get to the bottom of what had transpired.

He circled his fingers on her nape and shot his magic into her. A soft moan surfaced from her as he traipsed through her thoughts for the ones he sought.

When he found the thread of recollection, he latched on and followed it as if he watched a video diary of Sanja’s memories, all of her emotions included…

Puberty hit at twelve. She was finally a woman! Excitement zinged through her as Erica sat in a chair on the front porch waiting for her mom to arrive home so she could deliver the good news. With strict instructions to notify Sybil immediately when Erica got the ‘monthly friend’, she’d tried Sybil’s cell, but it’d gone straight to her voice mail. Figured.

Momma’s probably working a spell of some sort.
When her mom worked an incantation with a client, she became inaccessible. Her mom’s opinion, it was rude to take a call when they’d paid for her time. And Erica knew some hexes required strict focus or things could go really bad, fast.

Antsy, Erica’s foot tapped on the wooden slats. Dense clouds shrouded the moon, and intermittent thunder echoed in the distance with flashes of lightning. The thick humidity coated her in perspiration. On nights like these in south Alabama, one couldn’t get away from the heat. You just suffered from it. Yeah, she could go inside and escape to the air-conditioned house, but she liked the outdoors. Felt at one with the elements.

A crack of lightning zigzagged across the sky, making the hair on her arms stand on end. Thunder boomed, rattling the windowpanes.

Why does a thunderstorm always excite me? Make me feel more alive?

A loud creak jerked her attention to the right. A dark figure materialized from the shadows.

“Sybil lied, I see.” Calm words, but she felt his irritation. The tall male stepped closer until she could just make out his features in the light coming through the windows.

His brown hair was cropped short to his angular features. She couldn’t make out his eye color, but she could
feel
his stare like she could the static in the air. Strangers had never sought out Momma before on her property. There was an incantation of some sort on the land that kept them away. Or so Momma said.

The broad breadth of his shoulders intimidated her. Not just built like a linebacker, but tall like a basketball player. At least seven foot. Maybe taller. She wasn’t real good with estimates.

“She said you were dead,” he went on mildly, but she wasn’t fooled by his placid tone. “But the moment you became a woman, I could smell you. Can’t trust mortals these days. Tragedy since I made a deal with her.”

No idea what he was talking about, Erica leapt to her feet. She’d seen his face. And she’d seen enough horror movies to know that meant he’d feel obligated to kill her.

She bolted for the front door. If she could get inside quick enough and dial 9-1-1—

Erica screamed as his arm went around her waist and lifted her off her feet—and so close to the door’s threshold, too. A hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her screeches. The arm around her mid-section tightened, squeezing her against his colossal frame. Lack of oxygen axed her shrieks.

“Silence,” Michael-Myers-Wanna-Be-Killer growled against her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your daddy.” No way was he her daddy. Her genetic donor had walked out before she was born. Hadn’t he? That’s what her mom told her. “I came to bring you home.”

Putting her elbow into his gut, Erica kicked at his shins. His grasp tightened around her waist,
really
cutting off her ability to breathe. Figuring it was best to save her strength and energy for a better moment to escape, she went limp and focused on dragging in each labored breath.

“You’re going to be my greatest coup.”

“Release her, Michael.”

“Momma!” Erica screamed behind his hand, but it came out muffled. She’d never been so happy to see her parent. In this moment, she’d become a Valkayrie in Erica’s eyes.

Her mother’s hands remained at her sides, stance shoulder width apart, and her brown hair swaying in the breeze that’d picked up to a nice gust.

“Sybil, I’m glad you finally joined us. I thought you said our daughter was dead.”

Momma remained silent, just glared at him.

“I must’ve misunderstood.”

Erica recognized sarcasm when she heard it. She was pretty good at it herself.

“With her pretty face and witch blood, demons will be lining up to have her.”

“Not happening. Not to my baby girl.” Momma moved closer, and Erica wanted to scream at her to
do
something.

“We made a deal, Sybil.”

“I changed my mind.”

What were they talking about? Deals and changing their mind, Michael-Myers-Wanna-Be-Killer made it sound like they’d bartered for Erica’s soul or something nefarious like that. Could be that she’d watched too many horror movies with her best friend Tera.

“Too bad.” He removed his hand from Erica’s mouth. “Our daughter is still coming with me.” He applied a kiss to the top of Erica’s head.

Yuck! She needed to wash his slimy filth from her body.

“The
only
way you’re taking her with you is over my dead body, Michael.”

“How cliché.” Cliché or not, it set him into action. He dropped Erica and clenched her hair in his right hand, keeping her near. “Don’t worry, daughter, you’ll love your new home.” A moment later the sizzle of—was that a lighting sword in his hand?—electricity neared her neck. He pressed the tip to her skin, and where it touched her flesh burned and hissed.

Erica cried out, and he tightened his grip on her hair. She went very still. Any further movement would burn other areas on her body. She gritted her teeth to withhold her cry of perpetual pain. She prayed he’d remove the magical sword from her soon.

“I’ll kill her before I allow you to keep her, Sybil.”

“You won’t.” But the subtle squint of her momma’s eyes hinted her mother wasn’t so sure of Michael-Myers-Wanna-Be-Killer’s motives.

“Try me.” At a standoff they glared at one another.

Fear clawed at her levelheadedness. Now wasn’t the time to panic, but if Momma was unsure then Erica
had
to keep her shit together.

Maybe the power of the witch is in me, too
. If it were ever going to show up, now would be the perfect time.

A sudden calm stole over her. Her fingertips tingled as lightning flashed across the horizon. Static buzzed up her spine, hit the base of her skull, and—a bolt of lightning hit the earth near Erica’s feet.

Sybil gasped, and her hand flew to her neck. Erica realized her momma no longer looked at him, but at her.

“Is she doing that?”

Momma’s silence answered his question.

His fingers tightened in her hair, her scalp stinging. Her so-called daddy pointed his hissing sword at Momma. “Cease this instant or I’ll kill Sybil.”

Erica’s stomach dropped. Kill Momma? Nuh-uh! Not her mother, she was all Erica had in this mean world.

Another slash heralded the night sky and struck the soil next to her right foot. She felt the electrical charge circuit her body. In the next moment, Erica combusted.

Michael-Myers-Wanna-Be-Killer grunted when she ignited, and he flew across the lawn. His back struck the Oak tree, and she followed him, throwing balls of—fire?

Oh, God, am I really doing this?

“My God,” Momma said, which pretty much confirmed Erica’s actions.

She’d felt the power and utilized it. Momma had said she had magical clout, but Erica hadn’t believed her. Maybe she’d needed something traumatic to spawn the mojo.

Erica nailed her would-be daddy in the heart and again in the head. “Go away! Die! Die!
Die
!” With each word she plugged him with another fireball, screeching so hard her throat hurt.

Michael vaporized with the final fireball, and she went to her knees, burying her hands in the dirt, charring the lawn in two vertical lines that had remained to the day she was abducted.

Sobs tore from her so hard it felt as if they ripped pieces of her heart from her chest.
Momma lied to me
.
Lied about my daddy, lied about my soul, my life…so much dishonesty.

Then Momma was there, wrapping her arms around Erica, soothing her without words and crooning an ancient lilt of…forgetfulness. She wanted to forget this night. Wanted nothing more than to go back to a world where her biggest worry was Momma discovering she watched HBO past her bedtime. She turned in her parent’s arms and collapsed against her, chugging her mother’s magic like it was water and she was dehydrated.

Lyx wrenched himself from her mind. Goddamn. Michael was a sick son-of-a-bitch to terrorize his daughter like that. He didn’t understand Sybil’s reasoning for draping her in a oblivion-spell either, but that wasn’t his issue.

Sanja was quiet pressed against Troz, but her tears were steady.

She’d relived the moment with him, and he regretted forcing the memory on her.

Concern gouged across Troz’s features, lining his forehead with worry and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He waited for Lyx’s summation of what’d transpired between Sanja and Michael.

Lyx didn’t make him wait long. “She’s an elemental witch.” That power would mix perfectly with their demonic DNA. “Fire witch to be exact. I’ll show you the rest later, but in the meantime, get her to safety.”

Troz nodded and as they vaporized from the room, Lyx turned toward his newest enemy. His claws extended, and his horns shifted from his hair as they arose from his head. Only in times of extreme rage or war did they manifest.

Jakira’s shimmering glob of enchantment, bound Michael’s wrists and ankles in magical chains. A slash of black covered his mouth, gagging him for the duration of Lyx’s inspection into Sanja’s memories. Nice touch.

Under Jakira’s influence while visiting Baal, Michael was subjected to her control and was incapable of escape. As much as Lyx would like to cut him down while bound, the warrior within him wouldn’t tolerate such a merciless killing.

Coolly, he peered at Jakira. “I would give you the memory.”

She nodded and he stepped to her, touched her temple with his finger and shot the events into her head. A few seconds later, she said, “You’re callous, archangel.”

“How did you plan to use her?” Lyx was curious over the answer to that question, but the information wasn’t a necessity. He figured Sybil would give them that information if Michael wouldn’t.

Jakira went to the archangel and scraped the black goo off his mouth, leaving fine lines of oozing scratches above his lip and on his chin. “Answer him.”

“You cannot force that secret from me.” The smug bastard deserved to die.

Jakira stepped away from him. “Do your dirty work, Lyx. Just don’t kill him. Leave him barely alive. The
raptors
will pick his bones clean for several millennia.”

“
Just
barely alive.” At least she granted him the privilege of taking the archangel down. Spilling his blood and knowing the heartless bastard would suffer for eons would somewhat mollify him.

His Queen broke her magic, and the archangel came at him with his sword. The same one he’d used on Sanja. Anger settled in his gut, giving him strength. On the first swing Michael executed, Lyx stepped aside, caught his wrist and slashed his talons across the angel’s chest, gouging deep. The scent of holy blood fumigated the room. From the corner of his eye, Lyx noticed Jakira placing her finger beneath her nose as if she were a delicate flower.

He released his hold on Michael and waited for the other man to pivot. When the godly man faced him, Lyx recognized the doubt in his eyes. The archangel came at him again, his wings flaring just as he reached Lyx. As the angel went into the air, he swung his sword and arched it at the right angle to decapitate Lyx.