The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (69 page)

“Amy, we really have to go. The appointment—”

“Is at eleven, I know, I know.” She stood abruptly, but leant down to give Elena a quick, tight hug. “You’ll figure this out.”

She offered her a small smile. “Thanks.”

Amy nodded, threw Paul a look that Elena didn’t know what he’d done to deserve, and then stormed into her bedroom.

Her grandfather stood there for a second, looking completely irritated, and then exhaled and followed her.

Christ.

Her succubus gave off the equivalent of a stomach growl, her sacral centre positively aching with a whole load of lustful energy that had nowhere to go … just in case she hadn’t got the hint her demon was hungry. Wonderful.

Ignoring the pangs, her mind wandered back to the mess that was Karl. The mess she somehow had to fix. He’d been there for her her entire life, a steady source of support and healing.

Steady.

That’s what she had to be. He was going through the wringer and she had to be steady. She felt anything but.

But you’re going to be aren’t you? You’re going to be
his
rock now.
And she swore it was the succubus whispering the words to her; pleading with her, encouraging her, needing this to be fixed as much as she did.

Yes, I will,
she soothed. She forced herself off the sofa and made for the shower.

~*~

“Oh, come on in why don’t you – don’t mind me.”

Paul shut the door behind him looking more than a little pissed off. “Will you stop it?”

“Stop what?” she asked innocently, even though inside she was scolding herself for being so petulant. Why couldn’t she help it? She put it down to the apocalypse. Everyone’s nerves were short-circuiting at the moment, not just hers.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and she immediately felt sorry for being so bitchy. “We have to go in two minutes,” he said, “but afterwards, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s everything to talk about.”

“No, Paul. There’s
nothing
to talk about. You’re on borrowed time, isn’t that what you said? You’re here to see the birth through and then you’re gone. You care about your baby so much, you won’t even fight for the chance to see it grow up!”

Oh, shit.
Where had that come from?

The air hung around them, the silence broken by the ringing of her shrill accusation.

He stood there, bewildered.

She stood there, bewildered.

“I don’t mean to…” he began, “I didn’t plan … I mean, I can’t—”

“No, don’t. I shouldn’t have—”

“I can’t change—”

“I know. Please stop.”

And unlike her, he did as she asked.

She suddenly couldn’t breathe. Literally.

Her hand went to her throat and she sucked at the air.

Paul was there in two strides, bringing her down to the bed. “Sit. Head down.”

No!
She shook him off. It was worse like that. She didn’t need to huddle, she needed to stretch – expand her lungs. She stood up and gasped, hoarsely. “Can’t … air…”

He cursed and hauled her towards the window, the action pulling at the loose knot of her towel and disrobing her of it. Spots swam in front of her eyes.

“This is a panic attack.” He opened the window with one hand, while holding her up with the other. “You really should be sitting, with a paper bag or something…”

She didn’t want to sit. She leaned towards the open window which offered the gift of the November air and felt a little better, the sharp cold taking the suffocating heat down a notch. With her towel off, the cold also hit her body and she relished it. Her head cleared and exhaustion crept in.

Her legs trembled and she started to sag.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” And he did have. He’d moved behind her while she’d leant out the window and now supported her weight as she came away from it. She let herself fall back onto him, relieved she didn’t have to hold herself up on her jellified limbs.

His arms encircled her just below her breasts, offering that security she craved. Only, it was an illusion, wasn’t it? He was dying – there was no security in that.

“How long have you been feeling like this for?” he asked, and before she could answer him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She had no words, so shook her head again and closed her eyes. Instead, she brought her hand up and laid it on his.

He loosened his grip enough to flex his fingers, and they entwined with hers.

Gingerly, she looked up at him over her right shoulder. He was staring right back, a thousand words in his eyes, until his entire body stiffened against hers – and it wasn’t the good kind of stiffening, although she was pretty sure she felt some of that going on too…

He brought his arms back, breaking their embrace, and then took both of hers and pinned them down to her sides. The action exposed her, sending an unexpected wave of desire tumbling through her body, and had he not had that odd expression on his face, she couldn’t say for sure she wouldn’t have caved in to it.

“Paul, what is it?”

“Look down,” he whispered.

She did, and almost screamed.

~*~

“Something’s not right,” mumbled Pueblo as he paced outside what used to be the portal to the Dessec dimension. Obviously, the portal was no longer there, but he couldn’t see a Dessec in sight.

“We shouldn’t be here yet,” said Teigas, his tone hushed. “You’re not ready to face them – not your entire tribe.”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. We came back to this exact spot, to this exact moment in time, because I sensed something was wrong. I still feel something’s wrong.”

He saw Teigas’ shoulders sag and knew that, despite his reservations, the imp felt the same disturbance that he did. “So, what do you want to do now?”

Pueblo gestured in front of him. “This would have been the entrance to the portal before the worlds merged, so we step forward and keep vigilant.”

“Remember your training? How to hunt using all of your vision?”

“I’m a good student.”

Teigas’ lips tilted in a half smile. “That you were … eventually.”

Pueblo raised his brow at him. “Were?”

He nodded to where the portal once stood. “You first.”

“You surprise me.”

“I like to keep you on your toes.”

They walked into Dessec territory, and Pueblo’s throat restricted with a hit of nostalgia as he remembered the first time he’d ever laid eyes on Amy. He had appeared, all fire and heat, pretty much right here. She’d been a few feet away freezing her backside off, but trying not to look like it.

Jesus Christ, it hurt to miss her. The last dream they’d shared was almost five years ago now. To Amy, he suspected not even a day had passed.

“You’re daydreaming.”

“I’m remembering.”

“Whatever you’re doing, it’s hardly vigilance.”

He sighed.
True. But she’s my sole reason for living; the reason I’ve spent the last few years of my life as I have.
“Let’s call it, motivation; my call to action.”

Teigas snorted.

Pueblo smiled, then drowned everything else out as he focused on his task.

They continued in silence, ears pricked, Pueblo’s cat so near the surface … but what a revelation that for the first time ever, he was walking in Dessec territory in his true human form. Strangely, it made him feel … older. Wiser. Aged.

He stopped mid-stride, knowing what had halted him, but not wanting to give voice to it. He expanded his sight so he could see all around despite keeping completely still. Peripheral vision was a thing humans were not taught how to use, and what a waste of a natural ability. If understood and mastered, your peripheral vision became like an extension of your senses.

“I don’t see anything,” voiced Teigas. “What is it?”

“Blood. I can smell blood on the breeze.”

Teigas wrinkled his nose. “Nice gift you’ve got there, shifter.”

“This way.” Pueblo led them both north-east. He stopped once more about a hundred feet in. “We’re not alone.”

Taking up position back-to-back, they stilled themselves and surveyed the desert, ready to strike if the moment demanded it.

Nothing moved, not even the fine sand.

His foreboding grew. He took a few steps back and didn’t get very far, because one of his feet sank some way beneath him.

He cursed as he fought to maintain his balance, then froze as he saw what he’d unearthed with his movements.

A Dessec lay dead at his feet, the patches of dark skin he could see already turning ashen from the beating sun and powdery sand. A strange, black substance covered most of him from head to toe, making him look like he’d been dunked in thick oil. His head was thrown back, his mouth open in a bid to either scream or breathe.

He met the fairy’s eyes.

Teigas nodded, held out a hand, breathed out a breath that seemed to last forever, and every grain of sand around them shifted, uncovering hundreds upon hundreds of bodies in the same condition.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t think Jesus had much to do with this,” muttered Teigas.

“We’re standing in the middle of a goddamn graveyard.”

“This is genocide. No one here died of natural causes, and it looks like they were all killed at the same time.”

It certainly seemed that way. Blood had also been spilled, and although the sand had soaked up most of it, Pueblo could tell their annihilation had taken place recently – probably no more than twenty-four hours ago.

“Look out!” shouted Teigas, flitting his small form in front of Pueblo.

He spun around to find the cause of worry, ducking at the same time because he didn’t know what might be coming at him.

The sand ahead of them moved in an odd way, and, for a minute, it didn’t look like sand at all, but some strange shroud blanketing the dead.

In a very specific spot, it bulked in the middle, rose up, sank down, rose up, sank down, and then exploded, sending the small grains biting into them both.

“Shit!” Pueblo covered his eyes with his arm, finally looking up again over his raised forearm to find an older Dessec female standing tall and staring him down. A bright blue, silk scarf decorated her neck and marked her royal status.

She spoke with no hesitation. “They didn’t see the attack coming, although I tried to warn them, but the ruling males were fools who stopped listening to reason a long time ago. You’ve come a little later than I expected, but I’ve been waiting for you, child.”

His heart pounded against his ribs in both astonishment and trepidation. He lowered his arm and placed his hand on Teigas’ shoulder, although whether it was to restrain the imp or steady himself, he hadn’t a clue.

“You’ve grown strong,” said the woman, her voice filled with pride and as kind as he remembered it … well over two hundred years ago now.

Somehow, he found his voice. “Hallo, Bel’louma.”

Hello, Grandmother.

Chapter Nine

Elena emerged from the shower feeling marginally better, to find Karl slumped on the edge of the bed waiting for her.

He looked up wearily, eyes red from crying. For a moment, he looked startled, and then she remembered that she currently looked more Shanka than human.

A fresh film of tears glistened in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, Elena, I’m so, so sorry.”

Maybe she should stand a firmer ground, but love rarely had logic, and her love for him rose above all else, forgiveness riding its tide. This was the boy she’d known for twenty years.

She placed herself next to him on the bed and laced her fingers through his. Nestling into him, she kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. What happened?”

“I don’t know. I can barely remember what I was thinking, just bits and pieces, and the stuff I do remember – shit. Did I hurt you?” The question came out barely audible, the words trembling with something that seemed like fear. And he was so rarely afraid.

“Not really. I mean, you did here,” she put her hand over her heart, “but if you’re okay, that will heal… Are you okay, Karl?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know…” He broke then, his sobs filling the room as he let his head fall onto one hand. His other squeezed hers. “Never in a million years did I think I could … forgive me. Please. Elena…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay… I already have.” She brought him to her, cradling his shaking frame, and held him like that for a few minutes, allowing him the time to get himself together.

Eventually, he fell silent.

She dropped another kiss on the top of his shoulder. “I want to help, but I need to know what you’re thinking.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I find myself daydreaming so often, and when I come back to myself, I have no idea where I’ve been. This morning – I remember us arriving at the house, I remember looking at the mess and seeing you stand under the doorway between the two rooms, doing your spell. My mind wandered to that last time we were all there together … and then nothing. The next thing I know, I’m walking by the river just outside,” he nodded towards the window. “I don’t even know how I got there. I get flashes of things I think I said to you; things I … think I did.” He looked like he was about to cry again.

“Look at me, Karl.”

He turned to face her.

“I’m fine. I’m hurting because you’re hurting, but I’m fine.”

He looked away again.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“A couple of weeks maybe. I thought it was because of the apocalypse – a result of everything merging – but then the gaps in memory got bigger. This morning was the worst. I must have lost two hours.” He glanced up at her again, his face paler than usual; shadows under his eyes. “And I’m tired. I’m tired all the bloody time.”

“I did a spell to check for demonic possession earlier.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “But it was negative. I need more details – anything you can think of. Is there a trigger? Something that sets off the daydreaming?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Sorry.”

“Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” She stroked the top of his hand with her thumb, then stopped when he winced. They both looked down.