Magic of Three (12 page)

“What’s so funny?” she whispered into his t-shirt, unable to gather enough energy after his mind-blowing kiss to act insulted.

“I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you, love,” he replied as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. He held her close, rubbing her back as though he couldn’t bear to release her, to take his hands off her. “Tim’ll be hopeless. He’s never been good at resisting temptation. And you’re more than a simple temptation.”

Lisa took a moment to enjoy the contact, snuggling into him and absorbing his strength instead of pulling away. “Then it’ll be up to me to keep the two of you in line,” she teased.

Again his steely chest shook beneath her cheek. “That sounds interesting,” he said between laughs. “What’ll you be wearing? Something lacy and clingy, or are we talking a black leather and whip moment?”

Lisa chuckled, enjoying his quirky humor in spite of herself. “You are a bad, bad man. What am I getting myself into?”

“I believe I’m the one trying to get into something.” She pulled out of his arms, mock disgust on her face. Julian smirked. Lisa grinned back. “But enough innuendos for now. Time to get you ready for work, so you can make sure you have tomorrow evening off.”

Chapter Nine

Mograith stared down at his bitter cold realm, a petulant pout out of place on his sharp, furious blue face. Long, curved, glinting purple nails tapped on the ornate, grotesquely carved silver arms of his gigantic throne. Frozen wind caressed his nude body but couldn’t bring him pleasure or inspire him to take part in the myriad grotesque tortures abounding around him. An emotion he hadn’t felt in centuries filled him to overflowing, something that rivaled the rage of eons.

Jealousy.

His smaller imp-like minions rejoiced in the delight of tormenting fresh, unclaimed humans in the mortal world. They had freedom. Could he bathe in their blood and wallow in their misery? Was he allowed access to the pleasures of the flesh and the pain? Was he bathing in a crimson shower of warm, sparkling blood?

No. He was stuck waiting, watching the warm golden beam of light grow larger with each passing moment. A mere pinprick at first appearance, it now floated above his throne, the size of his fist. But still far from large enough for his massive form to squeeze through.

Tormented souls scraped and crawled closer, their emaciated forms reaching toward the light for imagined salvation, pilgrim supplicants praying for forgiveness and pleading for release. They shivered with newfound hope, their torn flesh and hanging, tattered skin snapping in the fierce wind. They thought the glittering light offered them deliverance, a passage from this hell to paradise and redemption.

Hardly. It signaled a new round in the eternal battle, a chance for his piece of hell to grow in numbers from weak-willed and immoral victims dragged down to his pits. Now if only his minion would do its work and secure his victory.

As if summoned by the thought a small, gnarled figure darted through the glowing opening. Its leather wings flapped through the air, frightening many souls back from the promise of the light. The lesser demon ignored their cringing, scurrying forms and sped toward Mograith, bowing before its king midair.

“Report,” Mograith snapped, gripping the arms of his throne and leaning forward. “What happens in the mortal world?”

His minion kept its head bowed, eyes to the ground and arms crossing his chest as he answered. “The Three have begun to gather.”

Mograith snarled, hands clenching and slamming down on the arms of his throne, denting the ancient silver. It writhed, trembled and reformed beneath his craggy fists. “Damn them,” he snarled, wicked teeth bared and snapping.

The lesser demon dared to peek up for a moment, eyes flickering to the area above Mograith’s left shoulder. “But there is still a chance to stop them, Sire,” it offered, shrill voice quivering.

The Demon Lord tilted his head, wide lips still peeled back in a snarl. “Yes?”

“The Empath and the Visionary are tied to each other,” the small creature began, leathery bat wings fluttering in agitation. “Their relationship is strong, solid. Too much time has passed and they will be impossible to separate. But the Catalyst… She is a different story.”

Mograith pressed his dry palms together, tapping his nails against each other. A glimmer of a plan sparked in the back of his diabolical mind. “She isn’t bound to the other two?”

His minion shook his head, smiling eagerly at its lord, ever ready to please him. “Not yet,” it answered, gaining enough courage from his lord’s obvious pleasure to flit closer. “They have met but she hasn’t established any connections to either of the other two. She is their weakness, the length in the chain that can be broken. We simply need to exploit her precarious station.”

Mograith smiled, an evil, hatred-filled gleam of tearing teeth. “So all we need do is make certain that separation continues.” He chuckled, the grating sound sending tormented souls below scurrying for their hiding places while even the lesser demons bowed their heads in respect. “This makes our job so much easier. If we keep the Three from combining their essences, the keys to unlocking their powers, the Pillar will never form and the portal will open for us.”

“Sire, why not kill the Catalyst before she has the protection of the other two?” his minion questioned, eyes cast down again under the sound of Mograith’s gloating laughter. “It would be simple to snuff out one unguarded human life.”

“That would solve nothing,” Mograith snapped, falling back into his embracing throne to stare contemplatively at the growing light. He could almost taste the sweet honey flavor of victory, but the eons had taught him that it wasn’t wise to underestimate his enemy, no matter how seemingly weak. “With the absence of a Three so close to an opening portal, another Three would be called. And the next Three may not be so weakened. They may pose a greater challenge. Let us take the unbound Three we have and deal with them.”

The smaller demon bowed to its Lord’s decree, body shaking with barely restrained energy, ready to return to frolic in the mortal realm. “What do you suggest?”

Mograith snapped his fingers, two more of his lesser demons appearing, floating in midair beside the first. “We don’t want to kill the woman, but we want to divide her from the others.” His lips curled to one side, revealing a single, dripping, serrated fang. “Do what you do best, my minions. Do what you enjoy. Terrify, confuse, destroy her confidence. Find her greatest weakness and exploit it. You three will rend the ties that bind the Three. Do whatever you feel necessary, short of killing them, to keep them apart. But report to me immediately when you’ve achieved your goal.”

The three demons bowed in unison, arms folded and wings spread. Without another word they spun on their leathery wings. Golden light flickered and flashed as they flew through the portal and into their vile futures.

Chapter Ten

Music throbbed through Tim’s veins, pushing him farther from reality and deeper into emotion-coated dance. He twisted and contorted as though his body had a mind of its own. Women screamed, stomped and chanted, but all from a distance. The fog of the smoke machine burned his heaving lungs but he paid little attention. His mind floated in a lust-filled haze. So much desire. So much angst. All the sexual energy rose and fell over him with each step he performed.

Pleasure Palace boomed, completely packed, energy level skyrocketing. The doormen were turning women away, having reached the maximum capacity an hour ago. Tim lived for nights like this, ones that sent him flying. During his street days, he never succumbed to the siren’s lure of escape through drugs that killed or destroyed the lives of so many of his friends. This was a true high, one beyond anyone else’s comprehension. His own personal mind trip. Nothing on earth could surpass this feeling, this pure state of emotional bliss.

For him the club was an emotional roller coaster. Emotions fed into him, powering his dance. He sent them flowing back into the crowd, twofold. The women’s voracious desire spiked higher in response, arrowing back to him, creating a cycle of avid, scorching lust whirling out of control with Tim spinning wild in the eye of the hurricane.

If only Julian could experience this electrifying storm, he’d understand Tim completely. He had a clue, the smallest hint of how Tim felt surrounded by such strong pulsing emotions, buffeted like a leaf in a tornado. But Julian couldn’t realize the pure, ecstatic bliss if he didn’t experience it, hadn’t had it fill his veins and color his soul.

Maybe when Lisa and her powers joined the mix Julian could taste it. She was the Catalyst, the one who could thrust them both to the next level of power. She would become their connection, the knot tying them together, binding them even as she set them free. Even Julian couldn’t say exactly what she would bring to the blend. He spoke of pillars of light, extremes of sensation, sharing on the highest level. Of creating enough energy to mend a tear in the veil between dimensions.

But what did that mean? Tim couldn’t wrap his mind around the mystical abstracts. He understood the power of emotion. He understood the currents that ran rampant through the human psyche.

He understood the pulsing heartbeat of desire, the sweet, cloying taste of lust. The thought of Lisa joining them in their personal passion sent his own soaring higher, flying through the stratosphere.

How much more would she bring to him? What new plateau would he explore?

Holding Lisa’s image in his mind along with Julian’s, both wrapped and writhing in a passionate embrace as they waited for him to join them, Tim threw himself into his dance. Sweat covered his bare chest, rivulets pouring down to mark his white g-string. His hair flew around his face. The stage vibrated beneath his feet with the pounding of the speakers and the impact of his frantic movements. Women pressed forward, money clenched and waiting in their fists.

He fell to his knees, sliding on his kneepads until he reached the edge of the stage. Hands flew forward, caressing his slick abs and shoving money into his g-string. Each physical brush sent another stab of blinding emotion coursing through him. When it became too much for him to handle he jumped to his feet to the sound of disappointed moans.

But he didn’t go far, just far enough to catch his mental breath. He turned his back to his audience, spreading his legs. Bending forward, he put his hands on the floor, his head hanging between his knees. Women screamed. One propped herself far enough up on the edge of the stage to reach forward and slap his ass.

Shrieks filled the air as he smiled and winked at the woman. She fanned several bills, waving them in front of her face. She curled her finger at him, daring him to come for it.

Tim braced himself. With a quick push he thrust his feet into the air, standing on his hands. He stayed there for a moment before letting his feet fall back. He flipped up from his bridge then turned back to the woman.

Her eyes widened as he strutted forward, taking the bills from her hand. He reached forward and tucked them in her neckline, his fingers barely brushing her skin. Bending over slowly, he pushed his face in her cleavage, taking the bills with his teeth. Her soft floral scent filled his nose as her companions yelled and whistled.

With that last move the music started winding down. He took the woman’s hand, placing a short kiss on her knuckles before stepping back. He did two perfect backflips, ending back at center stage. More female screams and whistles filled the air. With a flourish and another wink he bowed and headed off stage.

On the stairs he passed three men dressed as cowboys, complete with black hats, scarves covering their mouths and long, black dusters. He nodded to one, a friend from the old days whom he’d recently helped get work at the Pleasure Palace, before making his way to the back bar. He needed a quick drink before working the floor. Passing out from dehydration in a woman’s lap wasn’t good for business—a definite buzz kill.

At the bar, several women in line raked their eyes across his barely clothed form. Didn’t look like it’d take long for him to find someone wanting a lap dance. Not on a night like this. He’d keep his emotional buzz going strong until closing time, no downtime stretching out, no monotony. Hopefully Julian wouldn’t be locked in his office when he got home and would be ready for more fun and games.

But the closer he got to the bar, the more the happy vibe seemed to thin and break, finally disappearing all together. A total energy void. Positive and negative colliding, canceling each other out. Tim looked around for the source of the emotional dead space.

A well-dressed man and woman stood together at the head of the line. Not an unusual sight. Couples did come in together, especially this late. Most wandered up from the female stripper area downstairs and didn’t stay long. They tended to be lookers, not paying customers up here. Men didn’t buy as many lap dances for their women upstairs in the male stripper section as they did downstairs. Most preferred to see their women rubbing themselves across another woman, not another man. Kinda greedy, Tim always thought, but to each his own.