Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 (27 page)

“Don’t you know women need to hear that kind of stuff? They’re verbal. Much more so than us men.” Aster gave a decisive nod. “Yep, dang females can yap on and on and on.”

Sam sent the warlock an ironic look that sailed right over the spirit’s head.

Aster leaned on his staff and stroked his beard. “They also like to be wooed and romanced. Did you do any of that?”

Sam mentally tracked to the forgotten flowers left in the cab. “No.”

“So not only are you a crappy soul collector, you’re also a crappy boyfriend.”

Much as it chapped Sam’s ass, he silently acknowledged that Aster had nailed it on the head with that one.

He’d failed Marabella. Big time. Frankly, he deserved to have his sorry, miserable ass ripped apart by those hellhounds outside.

His tormented thoughts spun back to Marabella’s telepathic communications with him earlier. She’d said something about Pricilla and blood. His gut cramped at the implications of what that could mean. He knew the viciousness Pricilla was capable of. No telling what she’d do to Marabella.

A hot wave of fury replaced the dismalness that’d gripped him. If as much as one drop of Marabella’s blood was spilled at the hands of Pricilla, even death wouldn’t keep him from tearing Pricilla limb from limb.

Without warning, a fierce bullet of energy sizzled across his skin, jolting him. The shock of sensation rocketed him to his feet just as the door handle across from him began rattling frantically. One of the damn hellhounds had shifted and was trying to bypass the lock. Talk about bad fucking timing.

Aiming Lucy at the shaking door, Sam focused on the stirrings of energy zinging in and out of focus throughout his body. Hope and desperation pumped adrenaline through his veins, making his grip on Lucy dangerously unsteady. He fixed the image of Marabella within his mind like a beautiful oasis calling to him. Static buzzed in his brain before a blip of sound broke through the scrambled signal.
“Sam!”

His knees nearly buckled in relief. “Bella, baby, I’m coming for you.”

The transmission fizzled, along with the electrical charge snapping through him. His anguished roar echoed in the room. Refusing to let defeat beat him into the ground, he reached out with everything inside him to grab the unraveling threads of their bonded link. Marabella’s impassioned words ghosted through his mind.
You have a voice, whether you believe it or not. And you have the right to use it.

The gatehouse door burst open, and a sea of fur and snarling fangs descended upon him. Surprisingly, Aster leapt into the fray and conked one of the hellhounds in the head with his staff. The crazy old warlock got out a gleeful chortle before the hound’s comrade chomped onto the end of Aster’s cloak and whipped him through the doorway. Aster yelled some disparaging comment about flea-bitten hounds before the door slammed shut on him, snuffing the remainder of his insult.

Left to defend himself on his own, Sam fired at the horde of beasts, taking one out while another leapt at his throat with a victorious howl. Death might win this round, but not without him having the last words. “I love you, Bella.”

Brilliant streams of light filled his soul and splintered throughout him, suspending the room in a dazzling glare. A blur of motion surrounded him, spinning the gatehouse and everything inside it like a centrifuge. Out of the chaos a tunnel appeared, and shimmering chains rippled toward him. He snatched the end of one before it could disappear. The tunnel sucked him in, and suddenly he was flying through teleport space. A tiny square of light appeared before him, growing infinitely larger as the chain attached to it towed him in. The tunnel narrowed, shooting him into the vast opening of light. He landed running, instinctively knowing where his blurred environment was taking him.

The accelerated landscape locked into static shape. Ahead of him stood Pricilla’s mansion. He barreled in its direction, narrowly missing a passing car. Ignoring the vehicle’s angry horn blast, he raced up the drive, the Palladium window on the left side of the porch fixed in his sights. He vaulted over the rail and tucked his arms in front of his face. Crashing through the glass, he did a duck and roll, landing on his haunches.

Startled shouts shot from Pricilla’s goons. Their confusion awarding him the edge, he fired off Lucy, putting a bullet through the first two thugs before the other two even knew what was happening. The third goon grabbed for his gun a second too late. Unfortunately, the fourth had better luck. A bullet whizzed into Sam’s shoulder, knocking him back.

He staggered against the wall, woozy from his sprint and his additional loss of blood. His opponent realigned his shot. Before the thug managed to squeeze the trigger, Sam slammed a bullet between the goon’s eyes. He hurtled over the fallen demon and raced down the hall. “Bella!”

Muffled shouts came from the vicinity of Pricilla’s office. He kicked the door in and swung Lucy in front of him. Cass was trussed up in one chair and Marabella in another. His trigger finger wobbled as he took in the knife Pricilla had wedged to Marabella’s throat.

Hunkering closer to Marabella’s chair, Pricilla flashed a menacing smile. “Imagine that. You did come for her.” She dug the blade deeper, making Marabella wince. “Guess now we’ll see firsthand whose ass you’ll save. Hers…or yours.”

Marabella stared at Sam, her heart bursting with a strange combination of joy and terror. She shoved her panic to the farthest recesses of her mind. Sam was here. Alive. The horrible defeat that’d been her existence for the past several hours vanished into the ether.

Her attention drifted to the bright red stain spreading across the sleeve of his T-shirt. Just like that, her anxiety returned full force.

“You’re hurt.” She winced when the blade’s tip dug a fraction deeper into her skin.

His face unnaturally pale, Sam shifted his focus from the knife and looked into her eyes. The depth of emotion in his dark irises stole her breath.
“I love you, Bella.”

She blinked back tears.
“I know I told you there wasn’t any need to say it back, but I’m glad you did.”

His gaze never wavered from hers.
“I plan to say it a lot more. Every damn day in fact. So hang in there, and trust that I’m going to get us through this.”

Thank goddess for their telepathic link, because nodding was out of the question with the knife currently jammed against her throat.
“I know you will.”

Sam’s attention lifted toward Pricilla. “I’m giving you two seconds to remove that fucking knife.”

An icy laugh trickled from Pricilla. “In case you didn’t notice, your
whore
stands a better chance of taking that bullet than me.”

“Don’t count on it.” Deadly vengeance glinting in his eyes, Sam cocked his gun.

The knife remained pinned in place. “I believe this is where our negotiations come in. I offered you a choice—Marabella’s life, or yours.”

“Unless you’ve got an invisible gun pointed at my head, I fail to see your logic with that one, bitch.”

“Let me enlighten you then. You’re the property of the council. Being bound to this witch means nothing to them. You know that. But I’m giving you a way out.” Pricilla’s knife slipped dangerously close to Marabella’s jugular. “Her blood holds the key that will pave the road to your happiness, Samael. One press of a plunger. That’s all it’ll take to sever your indenture to Marcus and the rest of the council. Kill me, and you will never be free.”

From the corner of her eye, Marabella noticed Cass struggling against her bindings. “Don’t listen to her. She’s planning their assassination as a means to start a war between the reapers and demons. We’ll
all
be dead if she gets her way.”

“I’m offering you your
freedom
, Samael. The one thing you’ve desired for an eternity. The loss of a few reapers is insignificant in comparison.” Pricilla eased the knife away enough that Marabella no longer felt its cold bite. “I will even sweeten the deal for you and let this one live. Think of it—your freedom
and
your whore.”

A muscle tic twitched near Sam’s left eye.

“So which will it be? The lives of those who will control you forever? Or mine?”

“Hell, that’s not even a choice.” The sudden bang and plume of smoke funneling from the revolver’s muzzle preceded a loud thump behind the chair Marabella was strapped in. Uncontrollable tremors racking her, she stared at Sam. The lethalness in his expression softened as he tossed his gun down and rushed toward her. He used the knife Pricilla had dropped to cut the ropes loose. His hands trembling, he cupped Marabella’s face. She swore tears glistened in his eyes as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers. His shaky exhale feathered over her lips. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“Uh, guys, not to ruin this beautiful moment, but I’m still tied up here.”

Sam moved away from her long enough to free Cass and subsequently endure his cousin’s tackle hug. A pained yelp broke from Sam, returning Marabella’s attention to his wound.

She urged Cass aside and stared in horror at the bloodstained hole in Sam’s shirt. “You’ve been shot.”

“I’ll be fine.” The sudden wobble in Sam’s knees belied his declaration.

Snatching his wrist, Marabella tugged him onto the nearest chair and tore his shirt at the shoulder seam before carefully examining the small, oozing wound. The good news was the bullet didn’t look like it’d hit any vital organs. A quick check verified a point of exit just above Sam’s shoulder blade. Stomach pitching, she pressed her fingers against both wounds to staunch the flow of blood and yelled at Cass to call for an ambulance.

Her face losing all color, Cass shot from the room.

Sam grunted. “You can’t call 9-1-1, baby. We’ve got a house full of dead demons. That’s bound to raise questions.”

“I don’t care. There’s no way I’m letting you bleed to death.”

A ghost of a smile played at Sam’s lips. “That’s my Bella—always making a habit of trying to save my life.” His eyes closed, and he slumped forward, knocking into her with a heavy thud.

“Sam!” Fear sticking in her throat, she attempted to shake him back into consciousness, but he remained lifeless.

Oh goddess. He couldn’t die on her. The very real possibility of that happening sprung a helpless sob from her. Hugging Sam tight to her, she screamed at Cass to hurry.

In the end, Sam got his wish about not involving the human authorities. Instead, a group of reapers that Cass referred to as the Death Doctors showed up and carried Sam to one of the bedrooms on the second floor of Pricilla’s mansion. Desperately trying not to dwell on the
Death
part of their title, Marabella rushed up the stairs after them.

When they reached the room they intended to use, one of the lab-coat-garbed reapers turned to face Marabella. “You’ll have to wait outside.”

“No. I want to be with him.”

Without saying another word, the young reaper pressed two fingers to Marabella’s shoulder. An odd dizziness descended on her, and she fell to her knees, unable to move. Helpless, she watched the reaper shut the door. A distinct click announced he’d locked her out. The strange paralysis seizing her limbs broke, and she slumped forward, sobs racking her body.

Cass appeared a moment later. Joining Marabella on the floor, she wrapped her arms around her. “He’ll be all right.”

“H-he has to be. I can’t lose him.” Her eyes waterlogged, she stared at the door.

And waited.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sam surveyed the vast wasteland stretched before him. A few gnarled trees broke the endless vista, but that was about it.

“Well shit. Ain’t this about as ironic as death gets.” The amused drawl came from behind Sam. He pivoted and locked gazes with the individual across from him. The man wore a long brown leather duster and spurred boots. He looked vaguely familiar. The stranger whisked off his cowboy hat and smacked it against his leg. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Should I?”

The man removed his cigar and tossed it to the parched earth. “Billings, Montana. 1963. Ring any bells?”

It was the year he’d been reassigned to Nettie. Within the first week of his indenture to her, she’d dispatched him to harvest well over a hundred souls. Billings had been one of the cities on the list. “I stole your soul, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” The man sent a wad of spit toward the ground. “I begged you to spare my wife and child. You did.”

A cramp twisted through Sam’s innards as the suppressed memory of that particular hunt ambushed him. The punishment Nettie meted out for his disobedience had been nothing compared to the guilt that’d gripped him when he’d witnessed the wife and child’s unspeakable grief while they’d stood over this man’s grave. That had been the one and only time Sam had paid his respects to the fallen victims of his profession. After that, he’d begun building his defensive wall and hardening his heart.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you here to settle the score between us?” Not that he would blame the guy. He’d do the same thing if he were in this man’s shoes.

“Nope. I’m here to help you.”

Sam frowned. “With what?”

“Freeing yourself from Death.”

Awareness finally kicking in, Sam reevaluated his surroundings. “I’m dead, aren’t I? And this is Hell.”

The man shook his head. “It’s somewhere in between. Kind of a waiting room to the greater beyond.”

Sam pondered the man’s earlier confession. “Why would you want to help me escape Death? Especially after what I did to you?”

“Because you spared my family.” The man scratched his jaw. “One good turn deserves another.”

Sam grunted. “There’s not one damn good thing about me.” No, that wasn’t entirely true. He had Marabella’s love.
She
was the ray of goodness that resided in his heart.

He recalled the tears in her eyes before she’d dispatched him to the Death Wards. Remembered her heartfelt plea. “
Hurry back to me, Sam.
”

He stared at the stranger standing in front of him. This man hadn’t made it back to his family. Sam had seen the grief and misery that’d caused. The pain in his belly intensified as he imagined putting Marabella through that. He didn’t like the notion of her in tears over him. Just like he didn’t want to think of never seeing her again.