Hot Magic (35 page)

Bas frowned. “Julie?”

She spoke quickly. “What if Marguerite dies? Will that break the link?” She was gathering information, nothing more. Luc made an odd noise, but she didn’t look at him.

Bas watched her with interest. “You’re going to kill Marguerite?”

Julie finally turned to the woman beside Harry. Marguerite seemed to be in agony. She fidgeted restlessly, her hand thrashing out toward Harry. “She’s in a lot of pain. I bet she would ask me to do it if she could. It would be a mercy, a good thing.” She looked up and met Bas’s steady gaze. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Isn’t Harry’s life worth more than hers?”
 

Harry had given his whole life to the Triad from the time he was a child. No one had ever loved him. Except maybe Bas, and Bas was hardly a warm fuzzy. This brave and good man deserved so much more than to have his soul destroyed because of this woman’s stupidity.
 

“Marguerite is nothing.” The words rasped out of Julie’s throat, surprising her.
 

“You judge her harshly,” Bas commented quietly.

“I could kill her, couldn’t I?” Julie rubbed both hands against her thighs and contemplated the idea. She felt the power in the room, pushing against her skin, hers to shape.

“Think it, and it would be done,” Bas agreed. “No fuss, no muss.”

“Then Harry could get up and walk away from all this, free and whole.”

“Yes,” Bas said quietly.

Julie tried to think it through clearly, but emotion swamped her, confusing her. The only thing she knew for sure was that Harry could not die. She could not let that happen.

Bas said nothing.

Luc’s voice came from above her head. “You can’t judge my sister. You can’t kill her. You don’t have the right.”

She looked up, anger emerging, bright and clean. “She gave up her rights when she allowed Ashakarin into her head, when she allowed herself to become a conduit of evil. What right does she have to kill Harry?”

“If you kill Marguerite, you are no better than she.” Luc met her gaze, unflinching.

“Ha! Is that supposed to make me feel bad? I’m far worse than she.” Julie stood slowly. “I’m the evil she only channels.”

“No. You’re not.” Luc shook his head vehemently but took a step backward.

Julie turned to Bas, who had one hand on Harry’s arm, one on Marguerite’s. His eyes were narrowed and his face intent, as if he could monitor the flow of energy between the two people on the floor. “What should I do, Bas?”

Bas opened his eyes fully, his gaze unfathomable. Very slowly he removed his hands from both Harrison and Marguerite. “Kill her, Julie.”

Chapter Nineteen

“W
hat did you say?” Julie couldn’t believe her ears.

“Kill her,” Bas repeated. “Harrison is weakening. He can’t hold out much longer.”

Julie stared at Bas for a moment, fear for Harry paralyzing her ability to think. She slowly knelt beside Marguerite and placed a hand against her forehead. Marguerite felt warm, damp and very alive.
 

Julie closed her eyes and thought back to one of her lessons with Bas. She visualized herself as sponge. She gasped when the lights in the room actually dimmed as energy soaked through her pores. She’d never even made a light flicker during her lessons. Heat and energy filled her, tingling up her arms. She opened her eyes, and her gaze flew to Bas.

He smiled. “I told you once you started to use and shape power, it would flow to you more easily.”

Marguerite twisted under her hand. With a slight tug, Julie knew she could reach in and pull the life force from the woman. She turned toward Luc. “I’m so sorry.”

“Julie, you can’t do this.” Luc said the words with certainty.

Of course she could. Demons kill. She was half demon. So why was she hesitating? Years of contact with Ashakarin had probably damaged Marguerite past repair. “It would be a kindness to kill her.” She repeated her first argument.
 

“A kindness to kill. A merciful act.” Luc choked out a bitter laugh.
 

“That’s me, a regular Mother Teresa.” Murderer to saint in one neat twist of logic. Maybe she could get a job as a political spin doctor after this was all over.

Her gaze slid to Harry, so still on the floor.
Harry, I can do this. I won’t let you die.
Her hand started shaking, and she closed her eyes again, not wanting to look at Marguerite while she killed her. She took a deep breath then sniffed more deeply. The faint bite of cinnamon scented the air and calmed some of the fear and anxiety swirling in her brain.
 

You always have a choice.

Her eyes flashed open, searched for Bas. He still bent over Harrison. He hadn’t spoken, had he?

“Bas.”
 

His head swung toward her.
 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do it, I can’t kill her.”

“Good.”

“Good?” She stared at him for the space of two heartbeats. “What do you mean? We don’t have time for games, Bas.”

“I don’t play games. Make no mistake Julie. Your choice in this is deadly serious.”

“Well, now that I’m not going to take Marguerite out, we need to come up with a Plan B.” Harry looked paler, as if all the blood had headed somewhere far away from the organs that needed it. Every passing second, tension wound tighter inside her. She had to act quickly.

“I think you can bind with Harrison and join power without having sex,” Bascule said.

Well, why hadn’t he said so sooner? Wait a minute. “Bind together. Is that the blood-mate thing Harrison mentioned?”

“Yes. I can perform the ceremony that will bind you.”

Whoa. Harrison definitely didn’t want to bind with her. He’d been crystal clear on that point. Even in the grip of very strong passion, he’d backed away so that it wouldn’t accidentally happen.

Luc spoke from behind her. “You may give him back his soul, but you’ll take away his reason for existence.”
 

Julie shot him a questioning look.
 

“The Council won’t allow a demon-bound Balance.”

Giving him his life would take away his reason for life.
 

Great choice. But, then again, no choice. She wouldn’t let Ashakarin have him. Besides, he couldn’t really be mad at her for not letting a demon take over his soul, even if meant he was tied to a half-demon, and he lost his beloved job, right?
 

Of course he could.
 

“Do it, Bas. Bond us together.”
 

Bas took her left hand and before she had time to wince, he sliced a deep cut across her palm by moving his finger above it. He did the same to Harry’s hand. Then he joined them, palm to palm. Julie swallowed hard and curved her fingers through Harry’s, holding him tightly, mixing their blood. She tried to will her life force into him. Please, please, she prayed. Help him. Help me help him.

Bas cupped his hands around their clasped ones and began chanting in a language she didn’t understand. Latin, maybe. But since the words “veni, vidi, vici” comprised the sum total of her Latin—and they weren’t mentioned in the binding ceremony, thank you, God—she couldn’t be sure.
 

“It’s done.” Bas released their hands.
 

Julie kept her fingers entwined with Harry’s. “I don’t think it worked. I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel warm and tingly and connected to Harrison?”

Bas gently tugged at her hand until she released Harry. He ran a finger over her cut and then Harry’s, closing the skin.
 

“Bas,” Julie said urgently. “You need to do it again. The blood bonding didn’t take. I don’t feel Harry. I’m not joined with him. I can’t help him fight.”

“Julie. Be still. He shields himself against Ashakarin. To break through those defenses will weaken him. You have to ask him to let you in.”

“He’s unconscious.” She pointed out the obvious.
 

“Ask him,” Bas repeated quietly.

Right. She turned to Harry and put a hand on either side of his face, feeling the rough scrape of whiskers against the palms of her hands. She shut out the sound of Marguerite, still moaning. She shut out Bas and Luc, whose worry sat like a brick on her shoulders.

“Harry.” She spoke the words in a whisper. “Let me in, love.” She paused, felt nothing. “I know you’re used to fighting alone, but you don’t have to anymore. I’m here.”
 

Still nothing. She needed to get closer. She gently straddled his waist, one leg on either side of his ribs, and sat on his stomach. “Harry, we’re bonded now. We’re family. Let me help you.”

A mental door slowly creaked open, and she caught a glimpse of him, felt the edges of the terrible battle raging inside him. How had Harry survived this long?
 

A thread of energy Harry couldn’t spare focused on her for a moment. “Go! Ashakarin will have you.”

“If you let me in, we can stop him together.” She willed him to trust her, to open to her.
 

The door began closing much too quickly. She searched desperately for a way to convince him to let her help. “Harry, if we defeat Ashakarin, we can have sex.”

Maybe he was going to do it anyway. Maybe he didn’t have enough energy left to close his mind to her. Maybe he was a typical guy.
 

Whatever the reason, Harry’s mind opened to her in a rush that pushed her flat against his chest. She screamed as energy cascaded through her, overwhelmed her, drowned her.
 

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Then abruptly, the whirlwind stopped and everything stilled. She cautiously opened her eyes.
 

Julie thought for a moment that she’d landed in that movie with Robin Williams, the one where he follows his wife through the afterlife to pull her out of Hell. The scenery seemed to shift and blur, and everything was just a shade too intense to be real. A grassy field stretched as far as the eye could see. Peaceful, in a bizarre sort of way that totally freaked her out. She slowly turned a circle, trying to get her bearings, trying to find Harry,
 

Suddenly, the pastoral landscape dissolved into a huge Coliseum. Tiers of crowded seats sprouted and rose around her on all sides. The grass beneath her feet flattened and turned into packed sand. The roar of screaming voices filled the air, along with a sense of rising excitement and anticipation. The hair on her bare arms prickled, and she turned, as if tugged by a string, toward her right.

Harry stood twenty feet from her, bare legs spread in a firm stance, body tense and coiled. She’d never seen him like this—elemental, dangerous, fierce. Stripped of his polish and elegance. Stripped, period. He wore a skimpy loincloth secured only by a few clever tucks of cloth.
 

When she dragged her eyes away from that interesting bit of clothing, she noticed the very big sword gripped in his hands. He looked sort of like Russell Crowe in
Gladiator
, only more naked. His hair captured the sun and his golden eyes were narrowed, intent. Facing him stood a giant of a man dressed in a plain black tunic, holding an even bigger sword. Ashakarin.
 

The demon had red hair. She squinted her eyes. And freckles across his nose. He looked more like an overgrown leprechaun than the heart of darkness. If anything, this whole experience had taught her the fallacy of stereotypes. Evil didn’t have a particular face. In fact, it could be looking back at you in the mirror.
 

Ashakarin shifted his feet. He was going to skewer Harry.

“No fair!” She yelled out her first thought. “The swords should be equal size.”

Harry didn’t spare her a glance, his attention focused on the demon in front of him.
 

A familiar female voice answered from behind her. “You know size doesn’t matter. It’s all about how you wield the weapon.”

“Mom.” Julie twisted around. “How did you get here?”

Her mother looked so normal, dressed in a pink T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, pink toenails peeking out from her favorite Birkenstocks. “I’m not here. Not really. Except that I’m your mom, so I’m always a part of you in some way or another. You just decided to separate me out for this little scenario that’s playing out in your head.”

“You mean this whole fight in the Coliseum isn’t really happening?” Her attention focused again on the two opponents warily circling each other.

“Oh, the battle is very real, but you’re interpreting it in a way you can handle. Someone less addicted to movies and more into sports might view this as a boxing match, or someone more into strategy might see it as a chess competition or something.”

“A chess competition?” She should have come up with that one.

Swords clashed. Julie gripped her mother’s arm as Ashakarin brought down his massive sword, forcing Harry to parry his attack. Harry absorbed the shock of the hit then danced backward out of reach. But not quite far enough. Ashakarin lunged and nicked his bicep, drawing blood.