Anya Bast - Witch Blood

Thomas touched his thigh and winced. His hand came away red, warm and sticky with his blood. The wound had reopened. “He was…homesick,” Thomas replied on a tired sigh. Speaking cost him. All he wanted was to slip into unconsciousness.

“Homesick?”

“He would’ve risked anything to get back here, even death.” Thomas paused to drag some ragged gulps of air into his lungs. “Boyle was killing witches to get home. The only way to stop him was to poison him with copper, but it only did the job three-quarters of the way. We were pulled through the doorway and you finished him off in the field. That’s what happened. Why would we do our best to kill the demon before coming through the portal?”

Silence.

Desperation edged into Thomas’s body, more painful than his wound. Isabelle was alone somewhere with these creatures. What was happening to her?

“So you could weaken him,” the blond demon replied. “Weaken him long enough to come through and then kill him. So you could prove to the Atrika that you are powerful enough to kill their former leader and gain their respect. But something must have happened to prevent you from killing Ashe on this side of the doorway.”

Thomas closed his eyes. The demon didn’t believe him.

“We will get the information from you, believe me, aeamon. We will obtain the truth. From you or from your woman.” He toed the wound on Thomas’s thigh, making him gasp and see stars. “It will not be pleasant… for you or the female .”

“Let Isabelle go. Keep me. She’s an innocent in this.” So was he, but they didn’t want to believe that.

“You have no bargaining chip here. We have you both. We will keep you both.”

Thomas raised his head and snarled, “ Fuck you, demon . If you have any sense of honor, you’ll let her go free.”

The demon stiffened at the word honor and his eyes narrowed. “Do not insult my people,” he growled.

He’d touched a nerve purely by accident. Not one to waste opportunities, Thomas played it up, trying to appeal to him as best he could. He knew nothing about their culture, but he’d use whatever was at hand in his goal to see Isabelle safe. He raised his head a little to hold the demon’s gaze. “In our world, we protect those we care about. It’s a code of honor we have…a code between warriors. Keep me and let the innocent female go. She knows nothing and you have no need of her.”

“ Aeamon, do you know the deal you strike? You will never see your world again.”

He closed his eyes, on the verge of passing out. He nodded, his focus centered in one and only one direction. “Just make sure Isabelle does.”

THE DOOR OPENED AND ISABELLE SWUNG HER WEAPON,only to find her wrist caught painfully. The sculpture was torn from her grasp, dropped to the floor, and shattered. Rue growled low at her and tugged her forward, through the doorway and into the corridor.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, fighting him and allowing her gaze to eat up her surroundings at the same time. Polished dark green floor and smooth black walls. Many doors. Lights embedded in the ceiling. No other demons in sight.

“Home.”

She stilled, in shock at the sudden turn of events. Earlier it had sounded as though they might torture her for information she did not possess. Failing that, they would kill her. “What about Thomas?”

“We have need of him. He stays.” He dragged her forward, down the corridor.

Isabelle exploded into motion, pulling her arm back where he grasped her wrist, punching him with her free hand, kicking and screaming. She flailed against him, hurling every swear word and insult she could think of. Lady, she felt so tiny and insignificant in the face of his bulk. A gnat going toe-to-toe with an elephant.

The demon turned, his eyes glowing red. “The head mage will not return. He has agreed to stay willingly if we set you free. Forget him and count yourself lucky. You will go back to your people and know we have been merciful with you.”

He turned and pulled her once more down the corridor. Against his superior strength, she had no option but to be dragged along.

All she desired was Thomas, to touch him and know he was okay, to fit her face into the curve of his neck and inhale the scent of him.

Isabelle now understood the meaning of the word despair .

Emotion swelled within her, hot and hard. In the center of her chest, her magick pulsed in response, stronger here than it would have on Earth. Impulse made her act, to reach out for the only strength available to her. Tendrils of magick shot from her in all directions, seeking any moisture in her immediate area.

The pipes in the walls, under the floor, above their head in the ceiling all began to bang. The small amount of moisture in the air coalesced on her demand, creating a mist around their heads.

Her captor slowed, staring around him. Water erupted and sprayed down from a light fixture above their heads as it found any tiny crack or throughway to obey her call. To their left a pipe burst, sending liquid running down the wall.

Somewhere in the building she found a large pool of water. Its calm depths purred at her for a moment before she yanked it toward them. Her magick was amazingly strong here. What would have zapped her energy on Earth only made her feel energized on Eudae.

The roar of water approaching down the corridor behind them caused the demon to turn and scowl at her. “I have given your mage my word I would return you,” he yelled at her over the roar of the oncoming rush. “But he remains.”

The wave of water turned the corner at the end of the corridor and rocketed toward them. Isabelle focused all her will on directing it past her, straight at the demon. She would escape him and find Thomas. “If he stays, I stay!”

The demon stared at her grimly, his gaze holding hers. Then, right before the wave hit, he raised his hand and parted the sea. The water rushed past them both, barely wetting them.

Isabelle closed her eyes against the swell of disappointment and grief rising from the center of her. Her knees went weak and she had to catch herself before she collapsed.

Rue reached out, snared her wrist, and dragged her forward.

Her feet slid on the wet floor as she resisted, but nothing could halt her relentless progress until the demon stopped in front of a large carved wood door. A monster with horns cavorted there, chiseled by a demon hand. It looked like a cross between a ram and a huge man. Rue waved his hand and the door opened. He pushed her through.

The circular room had no decorations to speak of and seemed wholly utilitarian. The walls were of polished dark stone and the floor was also stone — dark green, marbled black, and marked with strange symbols in a circular pattern. Cabinets stood along the edges of the room and she wondered what filled them, what purpose they served.

The chamber stank of demon magick.

She could not only smell the demon magick, but feel it along her skin. It pulsed with a subtle light all along her body. Like walking into sunshine without the glow.

Under the stink of demon magick lingered the lighter scent of herbs. Immediately it made her think of earth magick. She glanced more closely at the room and glimpsed bowls set in what seemed to be strategic locations. Very possibly the smell emanated from them in a sort of magickal potpourri of dried plants.

Symbols marked strategic places on the floor at her feet. Cold inched up her spine at how closely it resembled a warlock’s demon circle. In the center, Isabelle could feel the subtle pulse and pull of a doorway.

“ Aptry domini ,” he uttered.

Light shimmered in the gateway, growing brighter.