The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (37 page)

Tears sprang up in her eyes for his sacrifice, and that something deep within her – that something she couldn't name – stirred again, more strongly this time. Really stirred… No, it
surged.
It felt like an awakening, or some kind of physical epiphany, and it travelled outwards, from her core to her surface, consuming her from head to toe, before settling like a blanket around her heart.
What the hell…?
Maybe she was falling into some kind of alpha state from all the pain she was in, but it was at that exact point that she knew it
was
all true – her creation, her birth, her betrayal, everything Satan had told her. Her mind might not remember, but her heart, or soul, or whatever crazy mojo was going on inside her, did.

A bloodcurdling scream brought her out of her trance.

It took her a moment to realise that Gwain was rolling across the floor with her in his arms. When they finally stopped a few feet away, she looked back to see the psycho-God writhing on the ground, his own ceremonial dagger sticking out of his eye. She hadn’t noticed it coming into play – it must have been what he’d made the fresh cut on his wrist with.

“Hey,” said Gwain, hauling her up to sitting. He gently turned her face towards his. “You okay?”

His eyes looked like liquid iron in the flickering torch light, and a memory skirted around the edges of her mind. She knew those grey eyes – she knew them well. Why had she not noticed before?

“
Mary
,” he called out, more urgently.

“I'm fine,” she whispered, but her voice sounded as if it were coming from another dimension. She didn't feel fine; she didn't feel like herself – maybe she was still in her weird sub-zero zone.

He frowned, concern shining in those eyes …
those eyes… They stared at you in shock as you clawed into his face, remember?
 

“I remember falling,” she said, to no one in particular. Was it even her talking? It felt like something inside her wanted out.

Gwain frowned. A storm settled on his features.

“Stay here.” It wasn't a request. “I need to finish this.”

“You're going to kill him?”

“Would that bother you?” His tone was sharp, and she looked at him in surprise. What was
that
supposed to mean?

He seemed to catch himself, and gave his slightly battered and bloody head a shake. “No. Abaddon can't be killed – he’s the only fallen angel that can’t – just delayed for a bit.”

He pulled himself onto his feet and strode towards … what had he called him? Abaddon?

The next thing she knew, Gwain had a sword in his hand, and before she could figure out where in God's name that had come from, he was stabbing flesh and slicing limbs … Gwain was slaughtering Abaddon – chopping him up into little bits as the Hell-God screamed in rage.

And this doesn't kill him?
she thought in bewilderment.

It occurred to her that she should be feeling … something … whilst watching the carnage, but it was yet another insane consequence of her nightmares that she was mostly desensitised to violence. She saw it, felt it, lived it –
suffered it
– almost every time she slept, but gore never seemed to affect her in real life.

Because he made you
, came the voice in her head.
Because you're evil.
 

A startling cold rushed through her body. Her legs began to shake.

No, no, no!
This was shock – she was going into shock! She still had enough of her own mind left to understand what was happening. She
couldn't
go into shock now, they had to get out of here!

With a moan of despair, she fought against the urge to huddle up into a ball against the nearest wall, and concentrated on her breathing.

In and out … in and out … concentrate on the tip of your nose where the air tickles you when you breathe … there's nothing else … just that spot on the tip of your nose … that's where you need to focus … that's where you need to bring yourself back…

She remembered her suspension bondage training from her days down the BDSM club – her only non-dangerous outlet for the pain of her nightmares, not that it had ever worked in relieving them. In the end, she’d only kept going back for the connection with people, and because she felt a little less lonely, and a little less of a misfit when amongst the other club members. Many that went there simply went because they enjoyed the lifestyle, and then there were others like her – okay, maybe not
exactly
like her – that went there for some hidden reason that had less to do with the lifestyle, and more to do with personal demons. She supposed that went double for her.

On a visual scale, she actually liked some of the kink. On a mental scale, she knew what she did and didn’t like doing to others, and having done to her. She just wished she could get turned on over it – over
any
of it.

Although it had been a long while since she'd practised suspension, the shock that was trying to take her over wasn't too different to the suffocating feeling she’d experienced when reaching her limit. She’d always dubbed it the ‘panic barrier’ – her emotions were threatening to disconnect from her body. Here was not a good place for that to happen, so she needed to reintegrate herself in as stable a way as possible. It was a damn shame a safe word couldn't freeze the scene in front of her.

Breathe…

It was working, albeit slowly. Sensation was coming back to her; the ice that had flooded her body felt like it was melting.

She clenched and unclenched her hands, and rocked back and forth on her heels. The world was steady.

Good. Get out of here now, break down later.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned her back on Gwain’s massacre of Abaddon, and strode over to where that orange glow emanated just around the curve in the wall. When she got there, she could see a room beyond the bend. That was where the glow came from, only now, she could see that the glow flickered, making shadows on the opposite wall. Maybe there was a bonfire in the room.

She wasn't far wrong. The entire chamber was one huge inferno, and in the middle of it stood Sophia, her small, perpetually burning body contorted in agony as her mouth lay open in a silent scream. And Mary knew that she
was
screaming. It was just that no one could hear her.

Her eyes widened in terror. She’d seen this room before in her dreams. And she’d felt what its victims go through.

She unbuttoned Gwain’s shirt and shrugged it off, not willing to let her only piece of clothing get burnt to cinders, then moved forward towards the flames.

A hand fell hard on her shoulder. “What are you doing? I told you to stay put!”

“That’s Sophia.”

“Who?”

“She gave me the balloon. The police think she’s dead. Abaddon said she’s a Totilemi demon.”

Gwain pulled her away from the inferno. “We have to leave now. I’ve only bought us a few hours at most.”

“No!” she turned to face him. “I can’t leave her here.”

He tightened his hold on her, but she jostled him off and, ignoring his startled shouts, bolted into the raging fire.

~*~

“Mmmm,” mumbled Amy into his warm, muscular chest. “I can’t decide which part’s best: the sex, or the coming down from it.”

“You know I love lying here with you in my arms, baby, but my man-pride is rooting for the sex.”

She grinned, wiggled down a bit, and ran her tongue between his abs.

Pueblo groaned, but the tone of his voice carried his smile on it. “Does this mean you agree? Does sex win?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “We should try it again, just so I’m sure.”

“Hell, yeah!” He jumped up to sitting, and threw her on her back as she fought a stream of laughter. “Except,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “we’ve got to be at Karl’s in an hour, and I’ve got to stop by the desert first.”

He stood up and reached for his clothes, and her face fell as a moment of panic seized her. Last time he’d been in the desert … wait, no, that had been just a dream … sort of… Although everything that had happened afterwards…

“Hey,” he said gently. “It’s just to pick some stuff up. I’ll be in and out.”

She managed a smile, and hoped it didn’t look too strained. It had been two and a half weeks. Logically, she knew that she couldn’t just take a deep breath and expel all the shit that had happened to her as she exhaled, but she was impatient by nature and starting to feel tired of … well, feeling tired all the time. Seeing her mum again after so many years – it had been healing beyond measure, and also sad, and happy, and a host of other emotions all wrapped up in a gigantic, crushing whirlwind she still hadn’t been released from.

“So, you’re going to meet me at Karl’s then?”

“That okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “What are you picking up? Loin cloths?”

He laughed, and his dark eyes twinkled. “Well, yes, it’s on my list, although,” he added as he stepped into his new Calvin Klein briefs, “these aren’t too bad.” He leaned over the bed and planted a kiss on her lips. “You’ll make a human out of me.”

“You’re already half way there without my help at all.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, I like being human. Give it a chance. You’re not your father.”

His shoulders stiffened as he pulled on his T-shirt, and she wished she hadn’t mentioned his dad.

“I know. But it takes time to wipe the slate clean when others have laid three hundred years of their own fucked up garbage on it.”

“Yeah.” She knew. Did she ever.

Tell him
, whispered the voice in her head.
Tell him what’s been bothering you the past week.
 

She gave her subconscious a mental ‘shush’ and bit her tongue for good measure. She wasn’t ready. And now wasn’t the time anyway.

“Okay, I’m all set.” He took a last look at her, and his eyes glazed over. “Damn, girl, you look so sexy sitting there all naked with your hair ruffled up.”

Heat flushed through her, and she smiled a genuine smile this time. How did he do that – be so playful and serious at the same time?

“You going to teleport to Karl’s or catch the tram?”

“Tram,” she replied. “It’s a cold night, but clear – crisp. I like the nights like this.”

He nodded, then leaned in for a final kiss.

Before he could pull away, she grabbed his face and brought him down to sitting on the edge of the bed, deepening the kiss, revelling in the flavour of it.

She grinned. “That’s better – that’s a proper goodbye kiss.”

“I’m not complaining, but this isn’t ‘goodbye’, this is ‘see you in an hour’. Amy…” He hesitated. Pulling back, he searched her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you don’t want me to pop back home—”

“I’m fine! Really … I’m just more tired than I’d like to admit, but if you’re going to keep dragging me into bed at every given opportunity, then that’s hardly surprising, is it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “
Dragging
you?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Kicking and screaming,” she nodded.

“I see. Baby, if you’d
like
me to drag you kicking and screaming, you only need to ask.”

Oh, my…

And with a devilish grin, he whispered, “See you later,” and disappeared in front of her eyes.

She let out a little giggle. Was it only four weeks ago he’d looked at her with that same grin, perched at the end of this very same bed? He’d dematerialised then too, right before…

Her laugh died in her throat as Etienne’s hard-lined face flashed in her mind’s eye. It quickly morphed into Paul’s soft, kind features, and a whole new torrent of confused emotion rushed through her.

She leapt off the bed before she could examine them further, and threw on her clothes, forcing herself to think about the tram timetable instead so she could calculate when she would arrive at Karl’s.

You should have told him
, came that annoying voice again.

“Oi!” she said out loud to the empty room as she fumbled for her gloves through her underwear drawer. “Didn’t I tell you to shush?”

Damn, she could have sworn she’d chucked her gloves in here after the last time she’d worn them.

“And I
will
tell him, when I’m good and ready … and when I’ve removed all breakable objects from anywhere near his vicinity,” she mumbled.

Her hand hit a small, satin pouch, right at the back of the drawer.

She froze. She’d forgotten that’s where she’d put it.

With a shaking hand she lifted it out. It was still loosely knotted at the top, just the way she’d left it.

Will you let him know before, or after you tell him you love him?

Love.

Amy sighed. Yes, she did love Pueblo. She’d come to realise it over the last few days. Maybe their bond accentuated the fact, but a blood bond could not change a person, and there were elements of Pueblo, and how she responded to him, that had nothing to do with their union. It was in his dedication to her; in the fact that he went out of his way to ensure she got her space, even though she damn well knew all he wanted to do was envelop her in a bear hug. It was in the way he’d never once told her he loved her, even though it was as clear as day in every action he took. He’d given her everything she’d asked for and more, and little by little, her heart had yielded to him just as her body had from the beginning.

She tugged the knot at the top of the pouch. It came undone far too easily.

Yes, she loved Pueblo, but how could she tell him when … it just wasn’t that simple.

She tipped the pouch upside down over her palm. Elizabeth May’s wedding band fell heavily into her hand.

Two things from 1956 had come back through the wormhole with her: the dress she’d been wearing, and her wedding ring, which she’d also been wearing. The dress, she had given to charity. The ring…

No. It wasn’t simple at all.

Chapter Four

Reaching Sophia was easy. The flames were inconsequential to her.