“What? Oh, I don’t think so!” Veronica snorted with anger and hefted the demon sword. “With all due respect, not that I have a lot for a demon lord, you’re nutso, lady!”
He needed her out of there, now, before he lost control of his demon. It was responding to Anzo, forcing him to her will since he had no esprit to help him fight the compulsion. He had to do something, had to take action in the next few seconds.
“Do you disobey me?” Pain lashed at him with Anzo’s words, causing him to stagger backward a step, his demon self seeping dark power throughout his body. He felt the dragon control slipping and knew it would be consumed in the thick blackness of Anzo’s command. “I will not have it! Not even from you!”
“Look, lady—” Veronica started to say.
Ian shut her out of his mind, focusing every atom of strength he possessed to keep his inner demon leashed, pulling hard on the dragon fire even as it started to fade. He eyed the frail esprit, knowing he couldn’t enter the circle to retrieve it. There was only one way he could ensure Veronica survived this encounter, one slim chance that he knew he had to take. If Anzo could be forced out of the circle, if he could reclaim the weakened esprit and restore his élan vital, he could send the demon lord back to Abaddon, and Veronica would be safely out of her reach.
He lunged forward at Anzo, intending to physically knock her out of the circle, but at the same moment, Indigo rolled toward the esprits, kicking at them. Veronica ran to protect them just as Ian’s body crossed the boundary of the circle containing Anzo.
For the time it took for one second to melt into another, time seemed to stop, hold its breath, and wait to see what happened. Ian knew he couldn’t fail in removing Anzo from the circle, for he would destroy himself willingly before he did as Anzo demanded. He might not have been able to save his mother or Adam Larson, but he would not be responsible for the death of the woman who made his soul sing.
He crossed the lines of the circle, intent on thrusting Anzo out of it. When he lifted his arms to shove her out of the circle, she flicked a finger at him and he froze, unable to control his body. Without an esprit to give his dragon side strength, his heart stopped beating, his blood slowed to a sluggish drift in his veins, and his lungs refused to draw in and exhale air.
He knew true panic then, the kind of panic that turns the world red with fear, a mind-consuming horror that he would not be able to save Veronica, and that yet again, one whom he should have protected would now suffer. Had he not taken Adam Larson’s judgment upon himself, he would never have been bound to Anzo. If he hadn’t gotten involved with Veronica, she wouldn’t be here now. And if he had stopped the courier from delivering the esprits, Anzo would never have been summoned.
It was all his fault. His recklessness just sealed their fates. He wanted to apologize to Veronica, to tell her what she meant to him, to plead for her forgiveness, but his body had ceased to respond to his wishes.
“Darling! How impetuous you are. You should have told me you wished to join me here in the circle, and I would have had that priest set you up here. But what is this? Your eyes, darling, your eyes! They are all but spewing hate at me. Could it be that you wished to do me harm, your very own Anzo? Tsk.” The demon lord smiled at him, all too aware that his body, no longer able to carry out its functions, was beginning to die. “I don’t know how I feel about that. Wait, yes, I do.”
Black spots began to form in the air in front of his eyes, while in his brain, synapses weakened and began to fail.
“I feel hurt. Betrayed. Angry.” Anzo bent and plucked the esprit from where it was bound into the summoning circle. “I think you need to be punished, my darling. I think you need to be brought fully into the darkness, and while I may not have the ability to destroy your dragon half on my own, this should have enough power left to give me the oomph I need to do just that.”
Ian couldn’t turn his head to see what Veronica was doing, but he heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a woman dragging a bound courier over to a chair and gagging her, and rejoiced with what few bits of brain were able to conceive that emotion.
“To be honest, I’ve never liked the dragon part of you. It gets in the way, doesn’t it?” Anzo, the esprit in her hand, slammed it into his chest, grinding it painfully into him. “This thing may be weak, but it should have enough power to cleanse you of the annoying dragon blood. You will like letting your demon self have free rein, Ian. It’s so invigorating! You won’t have any of those pesky obligations to the dragon hunters, and just think, you’ll be able to spend so much more time with me. Doing everything I bid you to do. We won’t have any more of those horrible times where you try to fight the compulsions I lay upon you. Won’t that be lovely?”
“No, it won’t be lovely. It won’t be lovely at all.” That was Veronica’s voice, and Ian’s soul wept with the knowledge that he had just damned them both.
Anzo ignored her, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes closed as she began a chant, every word of which struck Ian’s body like daggers.
The esprit burned deeply into his chest, filling him with a heat that went far beyond dragon fire, bringing with it bone-deep, piercing pain. Fear came close to consuming him, but at that moment, a miracle happened—with a swish of air that he recognized, a sword dug deep into the ground in front of him, the blade quivering with the impact.
“I bequeath to you this sword,” Veronica’s voice called out to him. “Temporarily. You know, until you get your own back. But for now it’s yours.”
The heat from Anzo’s esprit raged in him, scorching away everything he was, but as the esprit in Veronica’s sword glowed with a brilliant golden brightness, the heat and pain eased somewhat, and he managed to reach out and grasp it.
Beyond the circle, Veronica was strapping the struggling Witness to a chair. Behind her, the two esprits hopped excitedly up and down, the one with the wand waving it wildly.
He gripped the sword with both hands, drawing from it the strength he needed. Anzo was still reciting, posed dramatically above him.
She finished her chant, opened her eyes, and flung wide her arms, saying, “That’s it, my precious one. Give yourself over to it. You can’t fight me any longer, so you might as well embrace the darkness.” Anzo practically cooed the words at him.
“Ian!” Veronica’s call, the fear in her voice, was barely audible. “Why aren’t you doing anything? You’re supposed to be doing something.”
“At last. Now you are mine, darling. Truly, forever—” Anzo frowned at the sword Ian gripped with every ounce of strength. “Where did you get that?”
“Ian?” Veronica’s nearness forced Ian to his feet. He would not let Anzo get hold of her. Not while there was breath left in his body.
He wanted to tell Veronica just how much she meant to him, that he knew now he couldn’t live any form of a happy life without her, and that despite the fact that things were about to be fundamentally changed for him, he wanted her. In every way. From now until the end of their time together.
“I love you,” he said, getting to his feet.
Veronica’s jaw dropped as she gaped at him. “Huh?”
“I said I love you. You were right.” The pain inside him continued to ease, but his heart was leaden with the knowledge that he had only a few minutes before the demon took over. “I do love you. With every breath of my body, every beat of my heart, and lots of other poetic things that men say to women in romantic movies, but which I can’t think of right now because everything you’ve known about me is about to be replaced with evil.”
“You are deranged is what you are. As if I’d let you turn bad guy,” Veronica said, flashing him a smile that he felt down to his toes. “But I love you, too. Can you please take care of her now?”
“Yes,” he said, and turning to Anzo, he put both hands on her shoulders and shoved her outside of the circle.
“Aww. You’re not going to cut off her head?” Veronica sounded disappointed.
; Anzo fell forward onto her knees, her eyes wide with panic. Ian left the circle, for a moment jubilant, knowing he’d done it, he’d saved Veronica from Anzo. He hoped he’d have enough time to tell her how to protect herself before he was called back to Abaddon to pay for his betrayal.
He swung the sword at Anzo, a massive, percussive blast following when it touched her neck. Anzo twisted and compressed, her sibilant scream echoing in his ears as she disappeared into nothing.
“Woot!” Veronica yelled, and she threw herself onto him, kissing every part of his face she could reach. He allowed her to do so, his heart sick, for he knew any second he would pay the price of his actions.
“Wait, why aren’t you kissing me back?” she demanded to know, pushing back enough to glare up at him. “Why do you have your martyred look on? Why aren’t you happy?”
He closed his eyes for a minute, hoping he had enough time to say everything he needed to say before the inner demon filled him. “Anzo is gone, but only from this world.”
“So? Why don’t you look happy about that?”
He sighed, sorrow gripping him like a smothering cloth. “Would you be happy if you’d had all the dragon burned out of you, leaving nothing but a demon inside?”
She smiled a long, slow smile. “Ian, you are handsome, and brave, and normally so smart, but now you’re being an idiot.”
“What are you talking about?” Ian felt the urgent need to get out everything he wanted to say to her before he turned wholly evil and was summoned back to Anzo, but damn the woman, she insisted on distracting him with compliments and silly chatter. “Anzo burned the dragon out of me.”
“Uh-huh.” She put a hand on his cheek. “Do you feel demony?”
He thought for a few seconds. “No…not really. But it hasn’t taken charge of me yet, that’s all.”
“Do you really think an esprit would do that to you?”
“Yes,” he said, inwardly poking around the dark corners of his soul. Odd, there didn’t seem to be the hot, stifling, insidious warmth that the demon side always embraced. “She was using it to give added power to her spell. I told you that esprits were sometimes used that way.”
“Right, but that was before I gave you my sword. Once you got that, once its esprit kicked in, you could resist her. Resist the spell, right?”
He looked downward at his chest, pulling from it a feebly blinking ball of light. “Did I?”
“I think so. You don’t feel dark and icky to me; you feel warm. Golden. Filled with steamy dragon goodness.”
For a moment, hope filled him. The darkness that fought him, always threatening to consume him, did indeed seem to be gone. “I rather think it did a lot more than that. I think by giving me your sword, you gave me the ability to resist the esprit Anzo set to burn out my dragon, so it did the only thing left to it…It turned the demon side to light.”
Veronica grinned and kissed his chin. “I hoped my sword would give you the strength to resist, but that’s even better.” Her smile faded, a puzzled look pulling her brows together. “Or I thought it was. Why are you looking like someone ran over your best friend?”
He took her arms in his hands, aware of the two esprits standing behind her, but he had no time to be worried about baring his soul in front of them. “I’m still bound to Anzo, whether or not I have a demon half. She will summon me to Abaddon and punish me for what I’ve done. I want you to be aware that she might send some demons to confront you. I won’t be able to help you, but there are others who can. Other dragon hunters. You must contact them, my love. You must be safe. I couldn’t live with the idea that my actions caused you harm. Promise me that you will protect yourself.”
“What?” She looked confused, then angry. “You talk like you aren’t going to be here. We can fight this demon lord, Ian. I love you! You love me! I’m not going to let you go now, not when we finally are in a good spot. Not when I have you. No! Stop looking so obstinate and self-sacrificing, because I won’t let you go!”
“My loveliest, my most enticing fake girlfriend,” he said, bequeathing her the sword before kissing her hands, and wishing with all of his heart that his sacrifice would be the safety net she needed. “There’s a reason people avoid being bound to a demon lord—there is no way to break the bond once it has been made except death or replacement. And before you offer yourself, no. I would sooner die.”
The little esprit light buzzed in his hand. He set it down outside of the circle.
“That’s not true,” one of the little girls said, the one with the wand.
“What isn’t?” he asked, frowning at the interruption. There was so much he had yet to say to Veronica.
“Your bond is made up of dark power,” the other said, scratching her ear. “We can break it.”
“What? Hoo! That’s awesome!” Veronica dashed back a few fat tears that had rolled down her cheeks at Ian’s words and swept the girls before her. “Go ahead. Do it now, before that she-devil—wow, literally, too—tries to suck Ian back to make mincemeat out of him along with John Fuller.”
“No,” Ian said, stepping back when the two girls lifted their hands toward him. “You don’t know what that means, Veronica. They will destroy themselves doing it. Before I met you, I thought about nothing but breaking the bond to free myself. But now, after seeing you protect them, after watching your love blossom for them, for me, for…hell, everything—I can’t destroy them for my own salvation. You might be new to the art of being a dragon hunter, my love, but you are the epitome of what they stand for. You are everything that I wish I had been, and I will go to Anzo knowing that your light will make the world a better place.”
“That is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said, sniffing and wiping back another tear. “Also, the stupidest. But still, lovely. There has to be another way—”
“There isn’t,” he insisted, his heart breaking. Veronica was so lovely, so perfectly unpredictable, so filled with warmth that had nothing to do with dragon fire and everything to do with the perfectly imperfect woman. His woman. He couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward and taking her head in his hands, giving her one goodbye kiss that he hoped would say everything he couldn’t.
“We aren’t destroyed,” one of the esprits said, causing Ian to look down at her.
“You aren’t?” he asked. “But that one is used up.”
The other esprit shrugged. “She’s tired, that’s all. She’ll go back to the Sovereign when she’s spent, the same as us.”
“Who’s the Sovereign?” Veronica asked.
“It’s the name of the being that heads the Court of Divine Blood,” Ian answered, hope blooming despite the dire situation facing him.
Veronica gasped. “You mean God?”
“That’s a mortal idea,” one of the girls told her. “The Sovereign is more a manager of the Court.”
“That’s still pretty impressive. Wait, so this means that you won’t die if you break Ian free from that hussy who hurt him?” Joy shone in her eyes.
He knew just how she felt. He’d never once stopped to think what happened to the esprits once their work was done. He had assumed they were like the demons he destroyed, but if they weren’t…if there was a chance…
“It’s the same as what happens to the dark power. It goes back to its source—the demon lord to whom it was bound—and we go back to our source.”
“The Sovereign,” the second esprit said, nodding.
“Well, holy extra strength Toilet Duck! Then let’s do it!”
Ian didn’t have time to say anything before the girls laid their hands on him, and a brilliant light, white and yellow and seemingly made up of all the colors he could imagine, wrenched him away from Veronica, away from the basement of the disused church, and away from everything he’d ever known.
The last thing he heard before it was all taken from him was Sasha’s voice saying, “Wow, did I have a weird dream, or what?”
Some Sort of Wrappy-Uppy Title Here. Epilog
ue?
Sounds Kind of Meh. Find Something Better.
“YOU KNOW, YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THE TRUTH about Sasha.” I stopped talking for a few seconds while I waited to see if Ian was going to be able to stand on his own. He looked a bit wobbly, but after a few seconds of holding on to one of the chairs that had lined the wall of the church crypt, he managed to take a few steps. “I wouldn’t have freaked out or anything.”
“Really?” He cocked an adorable eyebrow at me, and I was possessed with the deep and desperate need to kiss him. And touch him. And goddess help me, lick him.
“Well, maybe there would be a little freaking out going on. The anxious animal in my head would have had a hard time wrapping itself around the idea that Sasha is God.”
“The Sovereign is not a god, let alone the Judeo-Christian idea of a deity.” He bent and picked up the still faintly blinking blob of light that had come from his sword. “She is in charge of the Court of Divine Blood, that’s all.”
“And she can come back from the dead!” I pointed out, handing him the gray, lifeless sword that I assumed he was going to want.
“I told you that only her form was destroyed. And as it turns out, that was incorrect, although I assume the two esprits who used themselves up to break my bond to Anzo gave her the ability to mend herself. Why are you giving me that?”
I laid the sword down on the table in front of him. “Because it’s yours. Aren’t you going to put the little soul thingie into it, so it fixes it and makes it yours again?”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” he said, setting the ball of light carefully onto the table next to the sword. It bobbed its way over to it, settling on a spot just below the hilt. A pale gold light seemed to shimmer over the sword, making it almost glow with life again. “That élan vital belongs to a dragon hunter.”
“Yes,” I said, wondering if the act of ripping him away from the demon lord Anzo had taken more of a toll on him than just knocking him out for almost half an hour. “It’s your sword. Don’t you remember? That bastard John broke it right in front of you. What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’re having another painful gas bubble that you swear you aren’t prone to?”