The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (68 page)

“Let’s make this quick, shall we?” said Paul, but his tone held an unnerving patience, as if he could quite happily take all day, and Amy knew in this second he was unmovable.

It was funny how, when she compared Paul and Pueblo, (actually, no, it wasn’t funny at all and she tried damn hard not to, usually failing miserably) it became obvious how opposite they were to each other in so many ways.

Pueblo
looked
unmovable, but his shifter, time-bending and time-travelling abilities ensured a pliability that flowed through him. He was all fire and heat, and both of those were molten and changeable, able to burn, but able to move. It made him deliciously unpredictable and adventurous, living life on the very edge, knowing he could jump ship at the last moment if he had to. He was adaptable.

Paul was almost as tall, but much thinner, more trim; the physique of a long distance runner rather than a sprinter, and the analogy made sense – he took his time. He put his mind to focus and got there in the end without anyone knocking him off his path. He was the tortoise to Pueblo’s hare. If Pueblo had this man up by the neck, she’d give it thirty seconds tops before the bruises started appearing. Would he spill the beans more quickly? Maybe. But there’s a chance the information might be a little less accurate – all kinds of things were said when your life lay in the balance and you had no time to think.

Paul was more calculated. And although Amy wasn’t sure exactly what he had in mind, she knew for a fact that if it took hours, he’d outlast his captive and get every final bit of the truth he was looking for. He was staid.

Out of nowhere, the question that Pueblo had asked twice – a question she’d skirted around answering both times – filtered its way into her mind with a force she couldn’t ignore:
Do you love him?
 

She gripped the door behind her for purchase as that dizzy, suffocating feeling rose in her again.

Paul didn’t notice, all his attention on the man who posed a threat to her.
And that’s where your mind should be too,
she scolded herself.

She took a deep breath, trying to find oxygen in the chlorinated room, and straightened her back.

Paul’s words cut through the air. “This, I can do for a very long time, and in case you need the clarification, ‘a very long time’ means until you break. I can literally bore my mind into any part of your anatomy, and I can make it feel pleasant, like this –” the guy gasped, moaned and arched his back, a distinct movement taking place in his Speedos – “or I can make it feel like this.”

A scream of pure agony filled the room, so shrill it made her wince.

Holy hell!
She stared at Paul, half dumbfounded and, curiously, with an urge to slap him over the head and give him a good nagging for being so inhuman.

Guess that’s the wife in you…

The part of her that was the mother protecting her unborn child said nothing and let him continue.

“What’s your name?”

“Chris … Christopher,” came the trembling reply.

“Christopher. Well done – good start. Who’s paying you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Wrong answer.”

“AARRRGH! Fu—
aaaahh
!”

“One more time?”

“N-lf…”

“Pardon?”

“Nor-Norolf.”

“Norolf?”

Christopher whimpered and nodded rather enthusiastically.

Paul dropped him, but after two giant gulps of air, he was slammed against the wall again. “Now, I’m going to be lenient on you for being a good boy, but if those answers don’t come out fast and clearly, that pain you just felt … well, you’re going to be feeling it just a little lower down. Or,” he tilted the corner of his mouth, “would you rather I gave you pleasure again?”

With bulging eyes he shook his head vigorously.

“I didn’t think so. Ready?”

His face crumpled momentarily, a little whining noise sounding behind closed lips, but then he inhaled and nodded.

“How did you meet Norolf?”

“He approached me just outside this complex. He said he was looking for someone he thought lived here.”

“A pregnant woman?”

“Yes.”

“Did Norolf display any powers?”

“No. But he said he was a shaman.”

Shaman?
Amy glanced at Paul, but he was immersed in his task.

“Describe him.”

“Er … blond, maybe late forties … he had an accent.”

“Did he say why he wanted the pregnant woman?”

“No.”

Paul frowned.

“Oooo! No no!” Christopher grabbed the front of his swimming trucks. “Please no – he said nothing, just that I would get five hundred pounds if I tracked her down.” He clamped his knees shut and went a little paler.

“How were you going to tell him what you’ve found?”

“We planned to meet tomorrow at midday down at the Cutty Sark – you know – the ship just across the Greenwich footbridge. I went there as a boy once. My mother took me – I think I was ten. I might have been eight. Things are simple when you’re eight.”

Oh, Christ, he’s babbling…

“You’re kinda just thinking about when you can have ice cream next and needing to pee.”

And right on queue, he let his bladder go.

Amy pulled a face and took a couple of steps back, along with Paul who released him completely.

“Fuck, man,” he squeaked on falling to the ground, “you gave me internal injuries.”

Paul rolled his eyes upwards. “You have no internal injuries; there aren’t even any bruises on you. Pack a bag today and get out of here. You’re not meeting that shaman tomorrow.”

He glanced at him in suspended relief. “You’re letting me go?”

“Did you tell the truth?” he asked sharply.

More vigorous nodding.

“Then get the fuck out. And if I see you here again, you’ll be shitting yourself instead.”

Still covering his crotch, he staggered up, using the wall behind him for support. “I thought you were gonna kill me,” he stated in half-hearted accusation, although fear still had him trembling all over.

Paul ignored him and grabbed Amy’s elbow, leading her out the door.

She stared at him, floored.

Paul looked at her, confused. “What?”

“Jerk,” muttered Christopher, finding his ego once more. “Sadistic bastard. Do you know what it’s like to lie powerless on the floor while your whole life does that flashing thing in front of your eyes?”

His reply preceded the click of the door as it closed. “I do.”

Chapter Eight

It had taken Elena half an hour to gather herself after Karl had left, and in every way she could think of that description was accurate – she felt battered, parts of her scattered. For the life of her, she could not fathom what had just happened.

She had forced herself to enter their bedroom and had proceeded to pack some magical items she’d left behind, the seed of exactly what had just taken place planting roots in her mind. The roots felt like an invasion; some cruel violation she couldn’t get rid of. And they just kept on growing.

Her final stop had been to the garden where she had stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Mary and Gwain’s clothes lying on the grass … and Mary’s necklace. It seemed that her little clean-up of the property had left no stone unturned – any object that had been broken or misused in any way, shape or form had been fixed. Except her.

The two Chinese symbols, which stood for ‘primeval chaos’, glinted in the light of the morning’s cold sun.

Primeval chaos. Yeah – what a mess. That felt about right.

She pocketed the necklace and took the clothes back inside, dumping them on the living room sofa.

Tears threatened every second, but she felt numb more than anything else.

She had then gotten the hell out of there, teleporting herself from the garden straight back to the penthouse, half hoping Karl would be there, and half hoping he wouldn’t be.

He wasn’t.

With still numb legs, she had made her way to the far corner of the leather couch and curled herself up, hugging her knees into her chest, and that’s where she’d been for the last ten minutes.

The front door opened in one sudden movement and Amy and Paul rushed in, him looking annoyed and her looking wet, flustered and a little pale, wrapped up in a towel. Had she not bothered to change before making it all the way back up from the pool?

“Amy, are you okay?” croaked out Elena. “What happened?”

They both looked at her, seeing her for the first time and froze mid-stride with widening eyes.

Oh, right – because my skin is the colour of storm clouds. Great.
She wondered if her eyes were shining that eerie green light too. She wondered if Shanka demons got puffy eyes from crying.

Amy was the first to approach her, still taking in her appearance, but showing no signs of being afraid. “That crazy shaman that attacked me last month knows I’m here … oh, and Paul
tortured
someone.” She threw him a glance.

In exasperation he threw his hands up in the air. “Yes, to keep you safe, I did. So sue me.”

She ignored him. “Elena, what happened?”

She hugged herself in tighter. “Karl and I…” Crap, she didn’t want to go into detail. “We had a really bad fight.”

“What?”
Amy whipped around to Paul. “You know that Chamomile tea you make so well? Now is good.” She sat down heavily next to Elena.

Despite his look of concern for Elena, he frowned at Amy. “We have an appointment in half an hour.”

She glowered at him, and he sighed before retreating into the kitchen.

“Is Karl here?”

Elena shook her head. “He left the house – I asked him to, actually – and I’m not sure where he is right now.”

“You guys never fight. What was it about?”

“You know, I’m not even sure. I think he’s starting to resent that I am the way I am – a demon.”

“That’s the most crazy thing I’ve heard today, and I’ve heard some crazy shit today.”

“I wondered if … I wondered if he was maybe possessed.”

Amy looked at her, incredulously. “Because you had one fight?”

“No he… Fuck.” She dropped her voice. “He sort of attacked me.”

“WHAT?”

“Shhhhhh!”

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. “He …
hit
you?”

“No, no, no… He kinda … forced himself on me  – I needed to throw him off.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know if it was my fault.”

“No.”

“The succubus, she’s been really needy lately – that’s why I look like this. I never seem to feel satiated at the moment. I must have given off a … vibe or something. I’ve affected men this way before.”

“Isn’t Karl immune to your vibes?”

“More than anyone else, but not completely.”

“But he can give you what you need without it killing him, right? Because he’s an angel?”

She nodded. “And because we’re soul-bonded.”

“Right. It’s not you, Elena. Have you tried a revealing spell to check for demonic possession?”

“Yeah, I did that before I left the house. I used some of his skin that I caught under my nails when I was trying to get him off. I didn’t realise … I’m not even sure where I hurt him.”

“He hurt
you
,” snapped Amy. “You shouldn’t be worrying about where you hurt him.” And then she paused. “I still don’t believe it though; I just can’t picture him—”

“Neither could I. This is Karl.
Karl.
He would
never
do this. The things he said to me … Amy, he was so cold. Karl’s not cold.” The wall of pain rose in her, chasing away the numbness. It was fucking agony – almost as bad as the time she thought she’d killed him. And maybe that’s what kept her going: it wasn’t as bad as it could get.

No. It wasn’t.

She straightened up and looked Amy in the eye, determination swelling within her, trying to reach the top of that wall to dominate the pain. “Something’s wrong and I need to find out what it is.”

Paul brought the tea over and Elena took it, the heat of the mug a little too hot, but welcomed as a distraction from the emotional torment.

“Well, if it’s not possession, what else could it be?” Amy placed a hand on her knee and spoke gently. “Are you really, really sure he’s not just … you know, taking everything very badly? He’s had a lot to deal with, and a lot to take on board in every respect – mentally, emotionally, financially…”

She trailed off as Elena shook her head. “It’s not that. I can’t explain it, but it’s not. He had this look about him, as if … I don’t know.”

It’s like I’m me, but not me.

She shivered at the memory of his words.

“Yes, but…” Amy hesitated. “Look, I’m not excusing how he behaved – it was completely out of order – but have you two
ever
argued before? Aside from his actions, was this a ‘normal’ argument that unnerved you because you’re not used to arguing?”

“Aside from his actions?” she asked, annoyed. “Do you think I’m making a big deal of this?”

“No, not at all – I said it was inexcusable, but I’m just trying to get some perspective here. You’re talking to someone who’s argued with every single boyfriend she’s ever had.”

Paul grunted.

She pinned him with a stare.

Elena watched the exchange and doubt seeped in. Was it just a normal argument that got out of hand? Shit. She’d wondered that earlier, hadn’t she? And here she was trying to make it about something supernatural. Fuck. She was a witch – that’s what she did. And the ‘most powerful witch in the world’ knew squat about normalcy. “I … I’m not sure. He just … really wasn’t himself…” She let the sentence trail off, now more confused than ever.

Amy gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her knee. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Finish your tea, take a shower and start the day over. By the time Karl comes home, this won’t seem so big and then you can both talk about it properly.”

“Maybe talk to your mother about it too,” suggested Paul. “She might be able to offer you some insight.”

Elena nodded, although the thought of explaining it all again, out loud, made her feel nauseous. Maybe they were right. Now back home, and feeling a bit calmer, she could see how her emotions might have gotten the better of her. Karl, uncharacteristically, had behaved like an idiot, but everyone in the thick of an argument came off like a bit of an idiot, didn’t they? He wouldn’t be the first. And neither would it be the first time she’d overreacted.
Way to go, Elena. You push him to open up and the moment he does, you can’t take it.