How to Marry a Warlock in 10 Days (29 page)

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Tristan asked with a grim finality and a disgusted scowl on his face.

“Ye— No.”

“Well, which is it? Do you have grits on your tampon?

Just say it.”

“I can’t,” Dred said. “Can’t I just be a strong and faithful husband? I’ll take care of her until I die.”

“Until she dies, shithead. You’re still not getting the enormity of what I’m telling you.”

“She’s going to die?” Dred asked in a strangled tone.

“Yes.”

“Me for her—” Dred almost cut him off in his hurry to make the trade. The thought of living in a world without Midnight was impossible.

“No, it doesn’t work that way,” Tristan said sadly.

“Then why in the hell did you ask me if I would die for her if there’s nothing I can do?” Dred grabbed hold of Tristan’s collar and it became silver armor under his touch.

Shining armor that glittered like all of the things that Dred Shadowins wasn’t.

Perhaps Tristan would have been a better choice to save her. He could give her all the things she deserved. He could love— No, Tristan
did
love her.

Dred took a breath. “Me for you, then.”

“What?” Tristan almost choked.

“I’ll take your death and you can have my life. Would that save her?” Dred looked away for a moment. “Would
you
save her?”

“Do you know how bad my death sucked?” Tristan looked at him meaningfully.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You are a fucktard. I just don’t know any other way to put it. You love her. Tell her that you love her before she’s gone.”

“I refuse to accept that as my only answer.”

“Dred, sometimes, there’s just nothing else,” Tristan said quietly.

“I met this Devil guy earlier. How do I summon him?”

“You can’t be serious.” Tristan raised his eyes skyward.

“Really? This is what you give me to work with?”

“If Merlin won’t take my life for Middy’s, maybe Caspian will take my soul in exchange.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Surprise, Surprise

“I bet you didn’t see that one coming,” Caspian snorted.

“He’s enterprising, I’ll give him that.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair.

“You’ll get a receding hairline if you keep doing that,” Caspian said helpfully.

“This is so frustrating. Why can’t he say it? If he did, this whole mess could be averted. At least until the lamia catches Middy, but I think we’ve found a loophole, haven’t we?”

“If not, I’m going to do what we talked about. The Pantheon can suck my fat, pointy tail. I know what I went through to get Grace and Dred seems willing to go to the same lengths.”

“Get up there and give the man a contract, if he wants one so badly.” Merlin lit a cigar. “Nimue hates these things. If I can’t smoke in Hell, where can I smoke, really?”

“Actually, um”—Caspian looked around for an escape route, but seeing none, he continued—“Grace hates the smell of that brand.”

“What is the world coming to? Even the Pantheon Halls are no smoking now. You’d think I’d get a little considera-tion since I’m the Bigger Boss. It’s not like I’m in charge of the whole world or anything. Assholes,” Merlin muttered.

“It sets a bad example. I don’t want Sera Ann to smoke.

I’ve sworn I’d shave off her horns if I ever caught her.”

“Aren’t you supposed to encourage smoking, drinking, cursing, and general bad behavior?”

“Aren’t you supposed to work in mysterious ways? So far, you haven’t done jack shit but sit on my couch and bitch.”

“And you find that very mysterious.” Merlin smirked.

“No, it’s not a mystery. You’re waiting on Grace to invite you to stay for dinner. She’s making Shrimp Diablo tonight.”

“I thought that was Shrimp Diavlo?” Merlin looked confused.

“Not in my house.”

“If I’d met her before you did . . .” Merlin let that sentence hang as he peered around the corner to see Grace moving about the kitchen.

“Nimue would still be kicking your ass,” Caspian added cheerfully.

“Are you going to offer that poor, besotted bastard a contract or what?” Merlin asked.

“Let me think about it. It needs to be good. Unbreakable.” Caspian grinned. “Infernal.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Snatch N’ Grab

The morning of Tristan’s funeral dawned bright and sunny. Dred didn’t want to go; it was hard to grieve for a warlock who didn’t seem dead. He hadn’t really liked the man anyway, but they were expected to put in an appearance.

All he could think about was what Tristan had told him, that Midnight was going to die and that Dred was helpless to save her.

Dred watched Middy dress for the funeral. He took in the way she smoothed her stockings up her long legs, the ease with which she fastened her own pearls behind her slender neck. The way her breasts looked when she leaned over to check her stockings for runs before she slipped into her heels. He watched her fingers move with an elegant precision over the buttons on her black dress.

When she charmed her hair, he liked how there were a few errant curls that just refused to do her bidding and she fussed with it for only a few minutes before she sighed and applied her makeup charm. She was low maintenance that way.

He even liked seeing her grooming charms next to his on the sink. They were neat and tidy, and rather than dominat-ing the counter, they complemented his. It gave him a sense of security to see those things next to his own. He’d never let witches leave things at his penthouse before. Sure, he’d find an occasional pair of panties, or a bra, or a thigh high.

Sometimes, the cleaning witches would leave a pile of buttons on the counter to return to whatever witch he’d ripped them from, but that was it. Or the discarded toothbrushing charm in the trash. He had a whole drawer full of those one-use charms.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder and her eyes softened. He could see how much she loved him. He could see how much more she’d made of him than what he was, and in that moment, he would have done anything for her if only to keep her light shining on him.

Midnight smiled and something curious twisted his insides.

He smiled back because he knew what he had to do. “Go ahead down to the broom and I’ll be along in a minute.”

“We could teleport,” she said shyly. “I’ve gotten to where I kind of like it.”

“That will save us some time.”

How had he gotten so dependent on this witch in such a short time? How had her little habits become intrinsic to his well-being?

“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

“I have to finish up this spell before we go. It’ll only take a minute.”

Dred waited until she’d gone and then set about making the circle to summon Caspian. The guy didn’t seem as bad as his rap sheet; he only hoped that he didn’t make a whole to-do about the summoning. He didn’t want Middy to know what he was up to.

He worried for a minute that maybe his britches were a size too big, thinking that the Devil had nothing better to do than be bothered with him, but he’d shown up before.

“What’s new, pussycat?” Caspian asked as he stepped from the closet. “No smart-ass remarks about the closet either.”

“Actually, I was just going to see if you’d take my call,” Dred said diplomatically and motioned to the circle.

“You’re a very enterprising young warlock to think of such. Pretty ballsy, too.” Caspian straightened his jacket.

“Grace and I were just out to see
Faust
. I never get tired of that production.”

“
Faust
is a good one,” Dred said as he debated how to open.

“Interesting themes, which brings me to the point of my visit.” Caspian smiled. “I brought a sample contract. Look it over. Let me know what you think and we’ll talk again soon.”

“How about we hash it out now? What do you want for Midnight’s life?”

“That’s a tough one. I mean, how long do you want her to live? What quality of life? These are details you need to think about. I hesitate to remind you, but I am the Devil.”

“Whatever her life would have been if I hadn’t interfered in it. If I hadn’t asked her to help me with this mission.”

“What if she never would have realized her potential without meeting you? What if she would have been miserable and lonely for all of her days? Would you wish
that
on her? How do you know that this isn’t the pinnacle of her soul’s journey? Who are you to fuck with The Great Wheel?” Caspian asked seriously.

Dred shrugged. “I’m a selfish bastard and I’ll give anything to know that she’s safe. She can reach her pinnacle or whatever in another life where I don’t have to live without her.”

“I understand where you’re coming from. So, the question is, what will you trade? Will you live in the body of a leper on your next turn around The Wheel? An AIDS patient? A woman in the Burning Times? Will you die for her? Or the ultimate sacrifice, serve me in Hell for all eternity?”

Dred knew from the many companies he’d bought and absorbed into Shadowins Holdings that it was always wise to get details and have lawyers dissect the contract with a fine-toothed comb, but he didn’t care about that right now.

Perhaps not the smartest move in the world when dealing with the Devil, but he had his reasons.

“Any of it, all of it. It doesn’t matter. I want her to be happy, healthy, and safe. Whatever that entails.”

“Hmm, that’s going to be a problem. She’s not going to be happy without you,” Caspian said.

“That’s just the potion. It’ll wear off soon enough after I’m gone,” Dred said.

“Tristan was right.” Caspian sighed like an actress in a fit of pique. “You are a fucktard. Do you understand that you’re selling your soul for this woman? If you haven’t realized by now that you love her . . .”

Dred didn’t want to say it, but he had a feeling that the deal wouldn’t happen without his admission. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

Caspian flashed a toothy grin. “I know it sucks when you first figure it out. It’s like finding out that your favorite candy is made out of dog shit. I’ve been there. Anyway, sign here.” He produced a very large parchment that unrolled a few feet before landing in a mess on Dred’s shoes. “You can read it if you want.”

“I don’t care about the rest of it.” Dred took the sharp-ened quill and touched it to his finger and marked his blood on the parchment. “So, it’s done.”

“It’s done.” Caspian grinned and disappeared in a tower of flame.

Dred waited for something to happen. He waited to feel something different. There was nothing. He was fairly sure that the Devil would keep his end of the deal. He knew that was probably naïve on his part, but it was all that was left for him to believe.

He did notice the faint aroma of sulfur that clung to his clothes. Dred changed quickly and met Middy in the kitchen.

“Who were you talking to?”

“The Devil.”

“Caspian was here? What did he want?”

Dred decided to answer honestly. It was a new trend.

“To offer me a job.”

“Did you take it? What are the benefits like?” Middy asked, obviously operating under the impression that he was joking.

“Spousal coverage is great, so I’d say the benefits are pretty good. I signed the contract. Not sure when I start though.”

She laughed.

There was a light inside him that hadn’t been there before. Something warm and out of place. He realized it was Middy. It wasn’t the Devil calling him a fucktard that made him ready to admit she was inside of him. It had been the clear sound of her laughter.

He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and kissed her hard and she melted against him. Her body was pliant in his embrace, her lips opened beneath his, and just when he would have explored the contours of her mouth, he pulled back.

“I love you, Midnight.”

“Dred, you don’t have to say that. I already promised I’d stay.” She gave him a half-smile that was somehow more devastating than what her tears would have been.

“It’s okay, Dred. Really. It’s okay,” she reiterated and put her hand on his arm before she pressed herself against him to teleport.

He was at a loss for words and Middy didn’t seem inclined to want them anyway. Dred hadn’t realized how strong she was. It was another thing about her that he admired. Dred hoped that after he was gone, she’d remember that he’d said the words and she’d know that they were true.

Dred closed his eyes and they teleported.

They arrived at the funeral and were immediately led to the front of the staging area where ushers guided them to their seats. They paused at the funeral pyre where Tristan’s body was laid out for viewing before the flames would take him.

His body had been washed by the women of his family and ancient sigils had been magickally pressed into his skin.

They were to mark his safe journey to the Summer Land where death and sadness would never touch him again.

Dred wondered what his family would say if they knew Tristan had spoken to him. Seeing his dead body, Dred wondered if perhaps the stress of this mission had been a little much and he’d sold his soul on the word of a figment of his imagination.

Then he remembered the first dream. Everything that he’d learned then had been true. Midnight moved closer against him and twined her fingers with his, so he gave Belledare a last look and proceeded to their seats.

Photographers from
Magickal Mayhem
were snapping furiously and Middy kept turning her face into his coat. He shot a fireball at the magickal boundary. Though it didn’t hurt them, it would blind their cameras for the next hour.

Barista sat down next to Dred. “Darling boy, will you help me find Roderick? He’s wandered off in the crowd, I think. I’m simply lost without him.”

Dred didn’t want to leave Midnight. He had a sinking feeling in his gut, but Middy smiled up at him and told him to go.

“I’m sure he’s around, Aunt Barista. He’ll find you,” Dred said by way of dismissal.

“I know you don’t want to be apart from your lovely wife for even a minute, but please, Dred.”

He looked at Middy and she waved him off. Dred didn’t see any way to get out of this. He was comforted by the fact that the Trifecta were his eyes in the sky and Middy would be perfectly safe.