“Love, I don’t understand why this is difficult for you. You are a very powerful witch.”
“Me either,” she whispered, approaching him. She took hold of his wrists, guiding them around her waist as she rested her cheek over his heart.
He held her tightly, hearing the tears she was trying to hold back in her voice. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in the subtle scent of vanilla. It never failed to soothe him. The same way wrapping his arms around Tory seemed to do for her. She finally sighed and sagged against him.
“Do not fret. As soon as we have things settled here I will have Skath recommend another witch to help train you. It will be okay. I promise you, my love.”
He felt her nod against his chest and relief wash through her. The strengthening of their mate-bond had been growing over the last forty-eight hours and already Michael could feel the varied emotions surging through Tory at any given time. Soon it would be even more than that. They would be able to communicate via a form of telepathy known as mate-speak, conveying all thoughts and feelings to each other in an incredibly intimate sharing of minds. Something he used to believe a huge deterrent toward mating but now couldn’t wait to share.
A sudden disturbance in the air was Michael’s first indication they were about to have company. A faint trace of sulfur was his second. Acting on instinct, he pushed Tory behind him as a faint pop reached his ears and Asmodeus appeared on the other side of the attic. He took immediate advantage of the demon’s disorientation, charging his foe as he commanded his sword, Justice, to appear in his hand.
Justice, blazing a fiery yellow flame, was attracted to the evil emanating from Asmodeus. It was a weapon forged in Heaven for the single purpose of extinguishing the souls of the fallen, and it had been discovered any soul could be drawn into the fire. When the blade was hued red or orange those destined for the House of Souls could be trapped within the flame for later retrieval, but when the blade glowed yellow even those of pure intent could unwittingly be forever destroyed. Today Justice was eager for a demon’s demise.
Michael swung at Asmodeus’s torso, cursing when the demon met his advance. He’d hoped this would be easy. Not that Michael was fearful of losing to Asmodeus. The demon had, after all, been routed from Heaven by one of Michael’s weaker warriors. Any other time Michael would have played with his quarry for the sheer fun of it. But Tory was in the room and he would not risk her getting caught in the crossfire.
“Tory, get in the circle now!” he called over his shoulder, barely sparing a glance in her direction. He didn’t have to—he was very aware of her every movement as if her limbs were an extension of his own. And for once, she didn’t argue with him.
Their clash had sent Asmodeus stumbling back a foot, but he regained his balance before Michael could destroy him. The pair circled each other. Michael, confident in his superiority, paid little heed to Asmodeus’s gloating facade.
“Nothing will protect your little witch from me,” Asmodeus taunted, his lips upturned in a smug smile. “Once you have been defeated, I will strip the flesh from her body inch by tiny inch. I might even let you watch while the life drains from you.”
Michael rolled his eyes. Why did demons always feel the need to gloat before he killed them? “And you expect to do this how?”
“Don’t you smell it, oh mighty Michael, the poison that will end your life?”
He felt Tory’s gasp wash over him but refused to acknowledge her fear. He wouldn’t give Asmodeus the satisfaction of seeing the demon’s words had affected him. And it really didn’t change anything. It couldn’t. Not when Tory’s wellbeing hung in the balance. Michael would have to be more careful, make certain Asmodeus’s poisoned blade did not touch him.
“Bring it on.” Completely blocking Tory from his mind, Michael egged the demon on, hoping in Asmodeus’s delusions of grandeur he would attack first.
With a shriek that shook the rafters, Asmodeus lunged at him, granting Michael’s wish. The demon’s eyes were lit with eager anticipation. His sword arm already swinging, Asmodeus aimed for his gut. Michael reacted quickly, Justice spitting and popping as the two swords clashed. Pivoting and using the heel of his boot, Michael slammed his foot down on to the demon’s toes, the howl of pain bringing him an ounce of satisfaction. He wanted Asmodeus to suffer tenfold for all the pain he’d caused Tory. Willing a dagger into his other hand, Michael slashed at the demon’s side, feeling the steel slide through skin.
Asmodeus jerked away, spinning to face Michael. The smugness was now gone from the demon’s features, his gaze warier. It should have made Michael ecstatic, but it didn’t. He couldn’t stop seeing Tory, lying bloody on the floor from the last attack. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of the distraction, lurching backwards in time to avoid getting impaled by Asmodeus’s poisoned blade.
With a gleeful cackle, Asmodeus followed. Michael knew if he didn’t end the confrontation soon, eventually the demon would get lucky. While it wasn’t the wound that would prove fatal, the poison would eat away at his soul slowly—the process long and agonizing until nothing remained of him but ash. Feigning to the right, the demon following, Michael then sprang to the left, getting behind Asmodeus before the demon had realized his mistake. Justice firm in his grip, he embedded the tip in Asmodeus’s back.
The demon tried to jerk away, to rip free of his fate, but it was already too late. Justice glowed brightly. Great waves of yellow light surged into Asmodeus’s torso, sizzling and snapping in a happy chorus. Sensing Tory’s spike of fear, Michael wished he could move to comfort her. Instead, he braced his legs wide as pulsing waves of energy vibrated up his arm. The light grew larger, surrounding the demon entirely before flooding the attic with its intense glow. Everything, even the very air in the room, stilled for a brief moment and then all light and energy was sucked back into Justice with a resounding
pop
, leaving only a thin cloud of dust where Asmodeus had once stood.
Standing there, Justice still dancing in joyous waves, Michael barely recognized Tory had broken the seal on the circle of protection. He was too busy trying to get the wayward sword, which still sensed another soul in the room, under control. Holding her off with an outstretched hand, he yelled, “Stay back!” He then concentrated with all his might on Justice. “Evanesco,” he commanded, and the sword disappeared.
Lowering his arm, Michael barely had time to prepare before Tory was jumping at him. “What the hell was that?” she demanded as he caught her, relishing the way she wrapped her limbs around him. Burying his face in her hair, he shook his head. He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat because for a minute there he hadn’t thought Justice would heed his order.
“I love you, Tory” he whispered, his gaze drawn to the spot Asmodeus had stood. The threat was terminated. At least for now. But Michael knew it wasn’t over. There would always be some demon attracted by her power, who thought he could make a name for himself. Until Zadkiel found the portal Tory would never be truly free. Thankfully, Zadkiel believed he was close. With his hand cupping her cheek, he drew Tory’s head up, and his lips captured hers in a soft kiss.
“I love you too, Michael, my own personal avenging angel.”
He chuckled quietly. He guessed he was because for this one little human, Michael would storm the walls of Hell itself. His to protect and cherish. Her avenging angel.
Epilogue
As Michael hid, immersed in the shadows, he recalled all he’d learned of his target. Like his Tory, she was small in stature. But what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in courage. And she was strong. She would have to be for what he intended.
He’d been a fool.
Sure, he’d given Gabriel’s grief proper lip service. It had been a tragedy, a terrible circumstance of fate. But until he’d held Tory’s broken and bleeding body in his arms, believing he would lose her, Michael had never truly understood all Gabriel had suffered.
Now was the time to correct the injustice that had occurred to one of his best friends. Creeping forward, he whispered, “Gladuis,” and Justice appeared, its red flame breaking through the darkness. While the woman slept on, unaware of his presence, he placed the tip on her abdomen, displacing the soul he had captured into her womb where it immediately merged with the newly formed bundle of cells.
But Michael did not get away unseen. He hadn’t counted on the man sensing his presence and was a bit disconcerted when the man emerged from a connecting room, his gun already drawn. A warrior in every sense of the word, he stopped wide-eyed as his gaze rested on Michael and Justice. A demon hunter. Michael couldn’t help grinning. Gabriel would probably try to take off his head if he ever discovered Michael had once again marked Ariadne as a hunter. He figured it would probably be best not to mention it.
“I have given you a great gift,” Michael said, glancing back at the still-silent woman before returning his gaze to her husband. “Protect them well, human. Both of them.” Then Michael flashed from the room.
Returning to Heaven, Michael breathed a sigh of relief—mission accomplished—and headed back to the rooms he and Tory shared on the top floor of the Powers’ headquarters. Zadkiel had been successful in finding the portal about one month after Asmodeus had been terminated, and Michael had smuggled her in the dead of night. Most still didn’t know of her existence, only his warriors whom he trusted to keep their silence. He hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. Not forever. Only twenty-five or so years until either Gabriel saw fit to forgive him or he was far too busy dealing with his own mate to give Michael problems.
After entering the headquarters, Michael hurried past Zadkiel, ignoring the fact he had begun speaking. If there was a problem Zadkiel would have to deal with it on his own. Michael didn’t have time. Tory was waiting for him and she had a new spell she wanted to try, something involving levitation. Since she insisted they be making love when she spoke the magic words, Michael wasn’t about to be delayed. And he figured getting a little singed would be worth it. Besides, she was getting better. The last time he’d only lost his eyebrows and they’d grown back.
About the Author
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Remembering the past can be painful. Ignoring it can be deadly.
Deals with Demons
© 2010 Victoria Davies
An
Angels and Demons
Story
In a world filled with magic, demons and death, Talia survives using her inborn ability to sense and track demons. A handy skill for a demon hunter. There’s one demon, though, who’s never far from her mind or her heart, damn his black soul.
Years ago Devlin saved Talia from the murderous demon who killed her family. The memory of him has haunted her ever since the night she fled his home, her body branded with a permanent reminder of his lust—and her humiliation.
Now he’s back at her door with an offer she can’t refuse. He’s found the one who killed her family, and he’ll help her kill the monster. For a price. One last heated night in her arms.
Temptation and the chance for revenge are too much for Talia to resist. However, once bound to Devlin in an unbreakable deal, Talia realizes too late there’s more at stake than the death of her nightmares. Her heart wasn’t supposed to be part of the bargain…but she should have known to expect anything when she made a deal with this demon.
Warning: This title contains hot demons and hotter sex. Author advises caution when making deals with the damned.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Deals With Demons:
“The master has ordered you home.”
Talia tipped her mug up, savouring the last mouthful of beer before she slid the empty glass to the waiting bartender.
“Bully for him,” she told the unwelcome man perched on the barstool beside her.
“I’m to bring you home at once.”
Slanting a glance at the nervous man, Talia smiled her most vicious grin. “You can try,” she replied, twisting her body to show him the glint of the dagger strapped to her waist.
The man gulped.
She shook her head in disgust. He was a disgrace. Why had Devlin even bothered to send him?
“You can tell your
master
he is welcome to try and force me back. But it will take a braver man than you to get me there.”
Talia slid off the stool. She stalked through the crowded bar without a backwards glance.
Once outside she pulled her black coat tightly around herself to ward off the chilly night air. A single thought burned in her mind as she set off in the direction of her modest apartment. Why did Devlin want to see her after all this time?
Talia had been nineteen the night she fled Devlin’s mansion. Not once in the six years since had he tried to contact her. And she’d know. She’d been waiting for him to make his move practically from the moment she’d left. The fact that he’d never come for her merely underscored what she’d known all along. To Devlin St. Clair she was not, and never had been, of any importance.