Christine Warren - Huntress

Warren, with a presence of mind that both impressed and astounded me, grabbed the Craven Cross and jerked it off my neck. Brandishing it before him, he placed himself between me and the demon.

“Be gone, demon!” he shouted.

Michael hissed and staggered backward. I wasn’t sure if it was the vampire or the demon that objected to the cross. A cross, or just about any religious object, will repel a vampire if it’s wielded by a true believer and the vampire means the human harm. I wasn’t certain about demons, but it seemed likely such methods would work on them as well. Otherwise, what was the point of exorcisms?

“I will have you, witch,” the demon said. “But first I must fulfill the terms of my bargain. I promised him I would bring you unimaginable pain.” He held out his arms and glanced down at his body before smiling at me. “I think this will do.”

Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched him turn and walk away. Warren was talking to me, but I didn’t hear what he was saying. The demon stopped at the smoldering corpse and kicked it, rolling it over and over until the flames were extinguished. He reached down into what was once the man’s chest and gingerly pulled out a gold chain. A round pendant with some sort of stone set in its center hung from the chain, glittering in the moonlight. Slipping the artifact into his pocket, he calmly disappeared into the shadows.

“Cin!” Warren said snapping my attention back to him. “We followed you in your carriage. We waited, thinking you might need a ride home.”

I blinked at him barely understanding his words. “Pull the sword out, Warren,” I said numbly. “And help me home.”

My cloak managed to hide the gaping hole and the blood stains on my dress as I walked into the house on Upper Brook Street. Ginny followed behind me, and Warren had graciously offered to see to the carriage and the horses, since we’d sent Will the footman home hours ago. Devlin and Justine emerged from one of the parlors, and it occurred to me then, for the first time, that I would have to tell them what had happened.

Devlin inhaled sharply, his vampire senses easily detecting the scent of blood. His gaze roamed over my face and then dropped to my hands. I tried to hide the red stains in the folds of my cloak, but Devlin crossed the room and took my hands in his.

“Cin,” he said softly. “Where is Michael?”

I looked up into his dark eyes and I realized I didn’t have to be strong anymore. I’d had to hold myself together in front of the demon, and then with Warren and Ginny so that they could remove the sword and get me home. But now that I was here with Devlin and Justine … the tears started falling and, with a wrenching sob, my knees buckled. I would have hit the floor if Devlin hadn’t caught me and swung me into his arms.

I’d lost him. Michael had thrown himself in front of a demon, knowing it would take over his body, in order to save me. And I had been powerless to stop it. I clutched Devlin’s shirt in my fists and cried so hard I thought I might break. I should have run when he’d told me to.

“ Mon amour ,” I heard Justine say, “take her up to her room. I will clean her up, but you must find blood for her.”

Cradled against Devlin’s massive chest, I felt like a child being carried to bed by her father. He set me down on the mattress and then vanished as Justine and Ginny fussed over me. I let them do as they willed, the whole time thinking over and over of what I could have done differently to save him.

My cloak came off first, followed by my gown and underthings. In a daze I stood, I sat, I lifted my arms when they told me to, but I wasn’t really there. My body was in the house, but my mind was still out on that field. Justine cleaned the blood off my face, hands, and chest before sliding my nightgown on over my head. Sitting down beside me, she grasped my shoulders and gave me a little shake. Woodenly, I turned to her.

“Cin, chérie , tell me what happened,” she said.

I shook my head, the words coming out in a broken whisper I barely recognized. “He saw the Ripper. I told him not to follow him, but he wouldn’t listen. It was a trap. My magic didn’t work against him. I panicked. I set the demon on fire. I thought we’d have enough time to get away, but we didn’t. Michael … forced the demon to take him instead of me.”

“How did you get wounded?” she asked.

I looked up into her brilliant blue eyes. “Michael did it,” I said.

“You mean the Ripper?”

“Yes,” I answered, forcing myself to remember that. “And please don’t call him the Ripper anymore, not when he’s wearing Michael’s body.”

“Of course, chérie ,” she whispered. “What did he say to you?”

“That he knew I’d come. That he wanted to hurt me,” I replied.

Remembering Michael’s face, his voice saying those things to me, made the tears start again.

“Justine,” Devlin said softly from the doorway. “Leave her be for now. Let her rest. I’ll go find someone to feed her. Fresh blood will help the wound heal.”

“She can take my blood,” Ginny said.

I shook my head. I’d almost forgotten she was there. She sat down next to me and pushed my hair back over my shoulder.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I remember my mother feeding you once when you needed blood. I’m not afraid.”

She held her wrist out to me and I looked up at her, too weak and weary to argue. She nodded to me.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Take it.”

My eyes locked on hers and it took every bit of energy I had left to bespell her so that she wouldn’t feel the pain. When I knew she was under, I raised her wrist to my lips and bit. Her sweet, coppery blood washed down my throat and the pain in my chest lessened as it filled me. Before I was ready to stop, Justine intervened and pulled Ginny’s wrist from my mouth.

“That’s enough for now,” she said and ushered Ginny toward Devlin. He put one arm around her and guided her from the room.

As Justine tucked me into bed, I grabbed her hand.

“Will you stay with me?” I asked. “Just for a little while.”

“Of course, mon amie ,” she replied.

She walked around the bed and pulled back the covers. I turned on my side and she slid her body against mine, wrapping her arms around me.

“Do not fret,” she whispered. “We will get him back.”

Softly, she sang to me until I fell asleep. Thankfully, I didn’t dream.

I slept until noon, when the chiming of a clock somewhere in the house woke me. Rolling over, I expected to see Michael’s pale, perfect body stretched out beside me. But the bed was empty, and my heart clenched in pain as I remembered why. We will get him back , Justine had said. Yes, by the gods, we would.

I threw back the covers and stalked from the room. Vaguely, I remembered the books Devlin and Justine had gathered together in the library last night. I carried them into the parlor and shut the door behind me. The room was cold and dark, all the windows in the house having been shuttered and the curtains drawn so that we could move about freely in the daytime. There were logs in the fireplace, though, and I held my hand out toward them. A moment later a fire erupted, roaring nicely in the grate and allowing enough light and warmth for me to spread the books out on the rug in front of it.

For hours I flipped through page after page until, in the last book, I found what I was looking for. “Binding” the script at the top of the page read. And the rest of it looked like a blurry watercolor. Most of these books had traveled with me for many years before I’d bought this house and, at some point in all that time, this grimoire had sustained significant water damage. I remembered the invocation and part of the herbs needed, but the rest of it was lost.